Archive of Our Own ^beta

Stiles mutters to himself as he grabs the smelly garbage bag and rushes outside. He hadn’t realized that he’d left a few leftover containers in the fridge while he’d been in Poland, but the smell had made it quite clear that the food in there was approaching sentience. He had thrown open every window between the front door and the kitchen, and then scooped the take out containers and two tupperwares into the otherwise empty garbage bag and rushed out the back door without grabbing a sweater. 

It normally only takes a few seconds to make it to the garbage can on the side of his house, and he’ll be able to make it back into the kitchen before the chill February air can settle into his bones.  

But then he hears growling and freezes. 

He looks around, muscles tense as he prepares to make a dash for the safety of the door. His yard is dark and he can’t see beyond the circle of the light from the bulb over his kitchen door. Scott and Derek had been telling him to install a fence pretty much since he had bought the house, but he liked having access to the Preserve from his yard. He went running on a regular basis, and he liked looking at the random animals that wandered through. And also all of the werewolves had run to his house through the Preserve at some point or another, so it’s not like they didn’t see the merit to his location. 

Right now, though, for the first time, he wonders if maybe he should have some additional barrier between himself and the rest of the Preserve. 

He sees blue eyes blink in the darkness. 

“Derek?”

The growling continues. 

“Peter?”

The growling grows in volume and pitch. 

“Shit.”

Stiles takes a slow step toward the door, careful to keep his motions smooth. 

“Der, I really hope that’s you.”

The growling softens. 

“You can come out, you know. I don’t know what’s happening, and I know you don’t like using your words all that much, but, c’mon, man,” Stiles keeps his voice low and calming as he takes another few steps toward the door. “Whatever’s going on, you know I’ll help. That’s my whole thing.”

Just as Stiles reaches the steps that lead up towards his door, a shape moves in the darkness and he tenses again. 

Then Derek steps toward the house and Stiles feels the air whoosh out of his lungs. 

Derek is wearing only a pair of dirty, ripped jeans. He doesn’t have any visible wounds, but blood is smeared across one arm and his ribs. He’s also still growling. 

“Der? What’s up, dude?”

Derek rushes forward and Stiles flails one arm and doesn’t even have time to trip or stumble or grab for the door before Derek is on him. Strong arms wrap around Stiles’ back and warm breath washes over Stiles’ neck as Derek practically buries his face there. Stiles breathes heavily for a few seconds. He hadn’t truly been scared of Derek hurting him, but he definitely feels wary about this strange behavior. 

Stiles brings one arm up and pats at Derek’s bare back. “Hey, Der, good to see you too. How about we go into the house?”

Derek whimpers softly and Stiles pats Derek’s back more resolutely. “C’mon. We’re going inside.”

He tries to pull back slightly, but Derek doesn’t let go at all. 

“Der,” Stiles says softly. “C’mon. I’m cold and I’m wearing clothing. Unlike you. Let’s go inside so I can warm up. And then I’ll try to figure out what’s going on with you. While you warm up. C’mon.”

He turns slightly and pulls on one of Derek’s arms a little and they reach for the door together. Derek seems to realize that Stiles isn’t trying to get away from him at all, and lets himself be manhandled a little, but he also keeps his other arm firmly around Stiles’ back, holding him so their bodies touch pretty much from shoulder down to knee. 

“This is a little awkward,” Stiles half-laughs as they move through the doorway. 

Once inside, Derek pushes the door closed and locks it before crowding Stiles up against the wall and tucking his face in Stiles’ neck again. At least the growling has stopped.

“I know I’ve been gone for a few weeks,” Stiles says as he brings a hand up to rest on Derek’s shoulder again, “and I’ve missed you too. But this… Derek, it hasn’t been that long.” When Derek doesn’t move or respond, Stiles asks, “Dude, what’s up? This isn’t normal, even for you, and you’ve got a pretty wide range of what I consider normal.”

Derek shrugs and runs his nose slowly up Stiles’ neck. 

“Hey, if you don’t start talking pretty much right now, I’m going to call Scott.”

Derek growls softly and Stiles flicks his shoulder. 

“Stop that. Scott is our Alpha and if you’re not going to talk, then I’m going to call him. You’re starting to worry me.”

Derek pulls back slightly and looks at Stiles. He scowls slightly, but doesn’t react as Stiles slowly pulls his phone out and calls Scott, who luckily picks up almost instantly. 

“Hey, Stiles,” Scott says with his normal cheery tone, “You’re finally back from the airport? Was your flight alright?”

“Scott… why is Derek half-naked and non-verbal inside my kitchen right now?”

“Oh shit, you found Derek?”

Stiles gapes at his phone. “Derek was missing? How come no one told me? How long was he missing?” Scott doesn’t respond quickly enough so Stiles flicks Derek’s shoulder again, “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Derek shrugs again and leans so he can tuck his face into Stiles’ neck on the opposite side from the phone. 

“Well, what about you, Scott? Have you also lost the ability to speak?”

“It’s been a little over a week or so,” Scott eventually says weakly.

“A fucking week? Or so? Scott, do you not know when he went missing?” Stiles demands, which prompts a soft growl from Derek as he squeezes Stiles’ hip. 

“We knew you’d be coming home soon,” Scott explains quickly, “and we thought we’d be able to find him. We could… we could smell him around the Preserve and town, so we knew he hadn’t actually left Beacon Hills. Malia thought that maybe he just wanted some alone time.”

“If he wanted alone time,” Stiles says through gritted teeth, “he would have told you all to fuck off. Or he would have gone to that vacation house he has over in Montana. He wouldn’t have just fucking vanished.”

“But he’s at your house now? So he’s alright. He probably just missed you.”

“Scott, did you miss the part where I said he was half-naked and non-verbal? And also he’s got kind of a lot of blood on him.”

“Well, you should enjoy the half–”

“Shut the fuck up,” Stiles snaps. “There’s clearly something wrong! He isn’t talking! And he’s been out in this weather with only pants! And I know I mentioned the blood. And he won’t stop… cuddling me. And he keeps growling.”

Scott is silent for a long second. “He’s growling at you?”

“No, not like, not at me. Just… just growling. Like… as a form of communication.”

“Because he’s not talking?”

“Yes, Scott. It’s fucking weird.” Derek lifts his head and scowls at Stiles. “Don’t give me that look, dude. You’re being weird.”

“Alright, I’m going to come over,” Scott says. “Do you want me to call Deaton?”

Stiles hesitates as Derek growls again. “Yeah, call him,” Stiles agrees. “But… maybe just let him know. He doesn’t need to come over tonight.”

Derek stops growling and sighs.

“Alright, I’ll see you in a few,” Scott says and Stiles hangs up.

“You’re okay with Scott coming over but not Deaton?” Stiles asks. Derek shrugs and, unsurprisingly, doesn’t say anything. Stiles reaches one hand up and cups the side of Derek’s face. His facial hair was definitely creeping more toward beard than Stiles had seen in years, and there were a few dirt smudges across his face. “What have you gotten yourself into, Derek?”

Derek lifts a hand and cups the side of Stiles’ face, seemingly just content to hold Stiles without, you know, responding to any of Stiles’ questions. 

“Alright,” Stiles says as he pats Derek’s cheek and then drops his hand. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up before Scott gets here.”

Derek frowns and tightens his hold on Stiles’ hip. 

Stiles rolls his eyes and takes Derek’s hand. He tugs and at first Derek doesn’t move, but after a few seconds he follows along behind Stiles as they make their way through the house. Derek stands silently beside Stiles as he turns the shower on. After fixing the temperature, Stiles turns back toward Derek and lets out a shout as he realizes that Derek had taken his pants off and was standing behind him completely naked. 

“Give a guy a bit of warning,” Stiles protests weakly. “Alright. You clean up and I’ll be back in a minute with some clean clothes.”

Derek frowns.

“I’ll be back in just a minute,” Stiles promises. “Go.”

Derek climbs into the shower slowly and Stiles rushes out of the bathroom. He closes most of the windows he had opened earlier before hurrying to his bedroom. Once behind his closed door, he bangs his head against the wall a few times before turning and pulling briefs, sweat pants, and a t-shirt out for Derek. He hesitates for a second before grabbing a pair of warm socks also. In the hallway, he pulls out one of the spare toothbrushes he keeps for visiting pack members and then returns to the bathroom. 

The shower shuts off and Derek abruptly pulls the curtain back. Stiles grabs for a towel and shoves it at Derek, staring at a spot on the tiles over Derek’s shoulder the whole time. “Here,” he says quickly. “Dry off.” He turns and picks up the clothing so he can offer Derek an ounce of privacy, even though the man clearly doesn’t care. “So are you ready to talk yet?” Stiles glances over his shoulder and Derek grins slightly as he steps close. He leans toward Stiles and takes a long, deep inhale, before leaning back and smirking. Stiles gasps and shoves at Derek’s chest, even though Derek doesn’t move. “You jerk,” Stiles snaps. “You said you never read chemosignals on purpose. Whatever I smell like, it doesn’t mean anything! And if it does, you can’t do anything about it. It’s not fair.”

Derek looks down at Stiles’ hands and frowns. He sniffs again and Stiles shoves the clothes at his chest. “Here, get dressed. And keep your nose to yourself.”

Stiles mutters to himself as he stomps out of the bathroom. He stops a few feet down the hall and leans against the wall. 

A few seconds later, Derek rushes into the hallway, still pulling the shirt down. He stops when he sees Stiles and grins.

Stiles sighs deeply. “Whatever's going on with you, we need to have a long conversation when you're back to normal. Because that smile right there. That's stunning. And I've never seen it before. And you grinning like that at me? Absolutely bonkers. What's going on with you?”

Derek shrugs again and slowly takes a step toward Stiles. When Stiles doesn’t do anything, Derek takes another step towards him until he’s close enough to wrap an arm around Stiles’ shoulders and pull him into a long hug. 

Scott arrives a few minutes later and lets himself in the front door. Derek jumps in between Scott and Stiles and grasps onto Stiles’ forearm to keep him in place. He doesn't growl but Stiles can see how tense he is from the line of his shoulder.

Scott eyes him warily.

Stiles sighs and puts his free hand on Derek's shoulder. “Der, c'mon, it's Scott. We're just going to have a nice normal discussion about this totally not normal situation, ok?”

Derek glances over his shoulder at Stiles and some of the tension drains out of him. Stiles steps around Derek, but keeps a hand on his arm. 

“So we're gonna skip right past me yelling at you for not letting me know Derek was missing and just try to go right to the problem solving part of this, ok?”

Scott purses his lips and nods. “Do you think that witch from last year figured out how to fix that curse and came back again? That was kind of my only idea.”

“Oh shit,” Stiles murmurs and looks at Derek. “Did the witch come back and curse you again? But for real this time?”

Derek frowns and stares at the ground for a minute before shaking his head and shrugging. 

Stiles squeezes his shoulder. 

“Does Deaton have any ideas about how to fix this?”

Scott shakes his head. “He's researching now. Derek, I'm glad to see you're okay. Do you mind staying with Stiles until we figure this all out?”

Derek blinks and steps closer to Stiles. 

“One of us can drive you home if you want,” Scott says slowly, but stops when Derek lets out a growl. “Or you can stay here.” He glances at Stiles and asks, “You're good with that, right?”

Stiles nods and folds his arms. “I am. I probably have a lot of work to catch up on. If I give you a good shopping list, can you pick some things up for me? He hasn't wanted to leave my side yet and I don't think it'd be a good idea to go shopping right now.”

“Yeah, of course, no problem,” Scott says quickly. “I can go right now, if you want me to. You probably don't have anything in the kitchen, do you?”

Stiles turns to a notepad and scribbles a few things down. He steps towards Scott and hands him the note. Derek links their hands together and gently tugs Stiles back towards him until he can wrap an arm around Stiles' shoulders. 

Scott eyes them. “You're right. He is being… different.”

Stiles pinches the bridge of his nose. “Thank you. It's... I wish he would just explain himself because I'm not opposed to being close. You know I don't have personal space problems, and we've been pretty tactile forever now…”

“But this is different,” Scott agrees. “Maybe it's just… what he wishes he could do… but he's never known how to express himself before.”

“What, and now that he's lost the ability to express himself, he can only rely on physical touch?”

“Isn't that like in The Little Mermaid?” Scott suggests, a hint of mirth in his eyes, “Something about the importance of body language?”

Stiles throws his pen at Scott and says, “Get out of here. It isn't anything like that.”

“Okay, man, if you say so,” Scott laughs as he leaves.

Derek sighs as the door closes and he leans his face against the side of Stiles' face and wraps his free arm around Stiles. 

Stiles silently counts to ten before he pats Derek's arm. “C'mon, I want to throw some laundry in the machine. I assume you're going to trail after me.”

Derek just tightens his arms around Stiles.

Stiles grits his teeth and says, “Please let go of me.”

Derek releases Stiles immediately, but whines as he takes a half step back.

Stiles groans and runs a hand through his hair. “Thank you. I don't want to upset you but also I kind of need you to not cling to me 24/7. Okay?”

Derek's whine slowly dies down. 

“C'mon,” Stiles says as he turns and walks to where he left his suitcase earlier that afternoon.

Derek follows him but stays a few paces behind. Stiles unpacks his suitcase and puts a load of dirty laundry in the washing machine. When he's finally done, he turns to Derek and sighs again. 

“Will you please stop looking at me like I kicked your puppy?” he demands. 

Derek's arm makes an aborted movement, like he was going to reach for Stiles but forced himself to stop.

Stiles rolls his eyes and steps towards Derek, looping his arms loosely around the other man's waist. Derek practically melts into Stiles' embrace. Stiles just breathes deeply for a few breaths. He won’t allow himself to feel excited about what is essentially an extended hug (standing cuddle?) with Derek. With Derek, whom he has wanted to be this close to, have his body pressed up against, be wanted by Derek… except he won’t allow himself to feel happy or excited right now because this isn’t Derek. Not normal Derek. 

This is cursed Derek. 

Or maybe bespelled Derek. 

Or… poisoned Derek? 

Were there any types of wolfsbane that made someone… act like they were drugged? But… didn’t cause death? 

Who fucking knows. 

But the point is that this isn’t normal Derek, so Stiles can’t treat him like he’s normal. He can’t read into Derek’s actions right now because they aren’t real. Probably. Definitely. Maybe. 

No matter how much Stiles might wish they were real. 

“Derek, I need to respond to some emails for work,” Stiles says softly. 

Derek huffs quietly, but doesn’t move. 

“C’mon,” Stiles says, “I’ll sit on the couch so you can sit next to me, alright?”

Derek sighs and loosens his grip on Stiles. He pulls back and Stiles blinks in surprise when he realizes that Derek’s eyes have finally stopped glowing blue. He reaches down and lifts one of Derek’s hands and confirms that his claws have returned to normal fingernails. 

“Wow,” Stiles marvels. “You… you’re getting… better?”

Derek watches with wide, earnest eyes as Stiles grins and then steps back. He can’t help but stare into those beautiful eyes, an expression he’s never seen before on Derek’s face. He shakes himself after a minute and resolutely turns toward his office so he can retrieve his laptop. After a minute or so, he settles on the couch. 

Derek sits next to him and even though Stiles is looking at his computer, he can feel Derek staring at him. Stiles slowly turns his head, and he was right, Derek is just… watching him. 

“Der… are you planning on just… watching me?”

Derek blinks and then looks around, like it hadn’t even occurred to him to do anything else. 

Stiles sighs and waves vaguely. “Look, I really only need a few minutes. Why don’t you lay down? We’re still next to each other. That’s good enough, right?”

Derek studies the couch for a moment before shifting and spreading himself out on the couch. He rests his head on one of the small pillows, and Stiles can feel his hair brushing against his arm while he types. 

He’s mostly just emailed a few people to let them know that he’s back in America, and he can start scheduling meetings starting on Monday. He glances down at Derek, who has started breathing deeply as if he’s fallen asleep, and worries if he’ll be able to actually attend a Zoom meeting on Monday, or if he’ll have a clingy and possibly cursed werewolf still attached to his side. 

He blinks and rubs his eyes. He’s been awake for over 24 hours at this point, not counting the few seconds at a time he drowsed while on the plane. He always had trouble sleeping on planes, maybe because he refused to pay for the fancy seats that turned into beds, or maybe because he was surrounded by something like a hundred people while in a metal tube death-trap hurling through the air a million feet up in the air. 

Or something like that. 

But he’s tired. 

He knows he shouldn’t go to sleep though. Not yet. It's only a little after five and if he goes to sleep now he will just be perpetuating his fucked up sleep schedule. 

He just has to wait a few more hours and then he can go to sleep and sleep all night long and wake up tomorrow feeling moderately normal.

He glances down at Derek. 

Well, he’d feel normal at least, even if Derek still wasn’t. 

After Stiles finishes sending his emails, he pulls up his digital bestiary and tries to find any cause for Derek’s current situation. Scott might be right about the witch’s curse from last year, but it doesn’t make sense about why it would start affecting Derek now. 

Derek sits up abruptly, growling and eyes blazing blue, and Stiles lifts his laptop safely out of the way. 

“Whoa! Derek, what’s up?”

Derek turns to stare at the front door and a few seconds later there’s a quick knock before it opens and Scott comes in, followed by Malia. 

Stiles glances back at Derek and loops his finger’s around Derek’s wrist. “Der, it’s alright. C’mon, they’re pack.”

Derek’s growl drops to a low rumble and he shuffles closer to Stiles. 

Scott smiles as he sees the pair and gives a small wave. “I brought groceries. And also a pizza!”

“Oh cool,” Stiles replies. “I’m definitely hungry. But also exhausted. I don’t even know how long I’ve been awake for at this point.”

“Didn’t you sleep on the plane?” Scott asks with a small frown.

“I tried,” Stiles shrugs and releases Derek’s wrist. “There were too many people. I think I might have drowsed off for a minute or two, a few times. But that was it.” He keeps an eye on Derek as he steps around the couch and hugs Malia briefly. 

Derek doesn’t growl, but he definitely looks unhappy. 

Stiles bites back a sigh and steps closer to Derek, who immediately grins and wraps an arm around his waist. He leans in and runs his nose along Stiles’ neck. 

“You’re right, Scott,” Malia says, staring at Derek and Stiles with speculation. “That is weird.”

“Does anyone have any ideas about how to help him yet?” Stiles asks. Demands. Whines. Whatever. He’s tired, alright? “Der, can you, can you just,” he leans his head away from Derek, although he can’t get far since Derek has one arm wrapped around his waist holding him close. “Can you stop that?”

The expression on Derek’s face makes Stiles feel like he stole candy from a baby. And stomped on a puppy. And possibly also robbed an old lady. 

Derek slowly releases Stiles and starts to step away and Stiles reaches out and grabs onto his wrist. “You don’t…” he sighs and tugs on Derek slightly, “you don’t have to go away. Just… you don’t need to rub your face on me constantly… okay?”

Derek’s face brightens and he wraps one arm around Stiles, pulling their bodies closer together.

Scott comes out of the kitchen, paper plates in hand. “Stiles I put all the cold stuff away, but I know you have specific feelings about where the rest of your food all goes. But let's eat while the pizza is still hot.”

Stiles tugs on Derek and they end up sitting next to each other, with Scott at the head of the table and Malia across from Derek. 

“He doesn't smell wrong,” Malia says as Scott hands out slices of pizza. 

Derek snorts and then takes a large bite. 

“How… I can't tell how much this is normal Derek, just unable to speak, or if he's… different.”

“He seems closer to wolf than normal,” Malia says with a shrug. “I'd say he's out of control, except he's clearly okay. Now at least. We've been tracking him for days and he's either been avoiding us or just hidden really really well.”

Derek whines quietly and leans into Stiles' shoulder.

“I know, big guy,” Stiles says softly, “I'm back now.”

“Do you think this is just because he missed Stiles?” Scott looks at Malia.

She shrugs and Stiles scoffs. 

“What?” Malia asks, looking at Stiles. “You've been his anchor for years now. Losing your anchor can do that to a person. Although I'm surprised it happened so quickly.”

“We don't know that I'm his anchor,” Stiles splutters quickly. “And he didn't lose me! We were talking every day in the beginning, and then texting, and he just doesn't like…” Stiles stares at Derek. “Did you stop answering my calls because you went all nonverbal?”

Derek doesn't reply. He leans forward, but then pulls back at the last second, as if he had just remembered what Stiles had said. 

“I think that might've been it,” Scott says.

“But… but what about when I was in college?” Stiles points out. “There were a couple whole semesters when we didn't see each other.”

“Hmm,” Scott acknowledges. “I forgot about that.”

“Whatever this is,” Stiles waves at Derek's face, “it's more recent.”

Derek reaches for another piece of pizza and deposits it on Stiles' plate before grabbing one for himself.

“Thanks,” Stiles says with a confused expression, and Derek grins widely at him. 

Stiles looks up just in time to see Scott and Malia exchange a look and Stiles frowns at them. 

“We’ll get out of your hair,” Scott says with a shit-eating grin. “We don’t want to get in your way tonight.”

“Scott I’m going to fucking kill you one of these days,” Stiles grumbles. 

Scott and Malia grab their plates, throw them out, and then wave as they head toward the door. Scott waggles his eyebrows at Stiles as he walks out and Stiles throws a balled up napkin towards him. 

“Do you want more?” Stiles asks, glancing back at Derek, who was frowning at the door. 

Derek huffs and Stiles takes that as a no, so he gathers their plates and heads into the kitchen to throw them out. Derek trails after him, but doesn’t do much more than stand close by. Stiles begins to put away the groceries Scott had left on the counter, but Derek seems to continuously be in the way. 

“Here,” Stiles says as he takes Derek by the shoulders and pushes him toward one wall, “just stand here for a minute or two, alright?”

Derek frowns at him, but doesn’t move from his assigned spot. 

When he’s finally done straightening up the kitchen, he looks at Derek, who perks up. 

“How are you doing?” Stiles asks, hoping beyond hope that Derek will respond normally.

Instead, Derek rushes forward and folds Stiles into his arms, pressing his face into Stiles’ neck again. 

“Well, I guess that answers that,” Stiles says as he loosely wraps his arms around Derek’s waist. “Alright, big guy, let’s go get your room ready.”

Derek trails behind Stiles as he goes to the linen closet and pulls out a set of sheets. He goes into the office and puts the fresh set of sheets on the bed and fluffs up the pillows. Then he goes into his room and pulls out a set of pajamas and another set of clothes. He pauses in his doorway and turns back to look at Derek. 

“You don’t have a phone, do you?” Stiles asks, turning to look at Derek thoughtfully. 

Derek hums and shakes his head. 

“I mean. Obviously you do. I should text Scott and ask him to go check out your apartment. Why haven’t we thought about that yet?” 

Derek steps closer and loops an arm around Stiles’ waist and Stiles sighs as he texts Scott, who agrees that he should’ve thought to check out Derek’s place to see if they could get any clues there. 

“Hey, Der?” 

Derek perks up and smiles faintly at Stiles. 

“You’re going to sleep here tonight, alright? That’s why I made the bed.”

Derek whines and tightens his grip on Stiles slightly. 

“Yes,” Stiles says firmly. “I’ll be in my room across the hall and you don’t have to worry about anything.”

Derek whines and rubs his face along the side of Stiles’ hair. 

“Alright,” Stiles says and nudges at Derek, “you can let go of me now. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Derek doesn’t budge. 

“C’mon,” Stiles says firmly. “Now is the time for you to let go.”

Derek frowns but releases Stiles. 

“Thank you,” Stiles says and starts walking toward his room. 

Derek follows him. 

“No, you stay here,” Stiles says.

Derek growls softly. 

“Well, good to know that you’re enough yourself to not like the dog jokes,” Stiles says as he rubs at his hair. “But seriously, Derek. I’m exhausted. I need to go to sleep. And that means we need to spend just a few hours apart. But we’re here together in the house. So you’ll be fine.”

Derek wraps one arm around Stiles’ shoulders and starts walking them toward Stiles’ bedroom.

“I take it you’re just going to completely ignore me?” Stiles asks. “And insist on sleeping in my bed no matter what I say?”

Derek grins and sits on one corner of Stiles’ bed.

“Fine,” Stiles groans. “But we are not cuddling in bed. I have to draw the line somewhere. We’ve shared a bed before, so I know you’re actually okay with it. But we did not cuddle last time and we are not going to cuddle tonight.”

Derek grins and a small part of Stiles knows he’s going to lose that battle also. 

After changing and brushing his teeth, Stiles lays down on his side facing Derek. He places a pillow between them and holds his hand out, “Here. We can hold hands, but this pillow is here to make sure you don’t do anything that you’re not actually in the right mind to consent to. Alright? Don’t cross the pillow. Just hold my hand, that way you know I’m here, or whatever.”

Derek latches onto Stiles hand and nuzzles it with his face for a few seconds before smiling at Stiles and then closing his eyes.

Stiles counts backward from 100 before he allows himself to glance back at Derek’s peaceful face. He’s not sure he’s going to survive cohabitating with this version of Derek. 

Stiles wakes up with the warmth of Derek's body pressed against his whole back. He shifts slightly and Derek instantly groans and tightens his arm. Stiles rolls within the circle of Derek's arm so they're facing each other, and Derek blinks and then grins, a sleepy, open grin. 

Stiles can't help the small smile that grows on his face. He could get used to waking up like this, next to the man he has loved for years. If only… if only this was actually his Derek, and not some cursed version. 

Derek cups the side of Stiles' face and leans forward to press their lips together. 

“Whoa!” Stiles says as he throws himself backwards and lurches off the bed. “No!” He points at Derek as he steadies himself on his feet. “No.”

Derek frowns, looking simultaneously hurt and confused. He looks down at the bed with the rumpled sheets and blankets, evidence that they had just spent the night sleeping cuddled next to each other, the safety-pillow nowhere in sight. Stiles' eyes catch on Derek's bare chest (when had he taken his shirt off??) and the way the sheet pools around his lap, and he forces his eyes away from the skin and drags his eyes up to Derek's face. 

“We are not taking any big relationship steps right now,” Stiles snaps. “Not while you can't communicate consent or intention or anything. Fuck, Derek. What is going on with you?”

Derek lets out a soft whine and Stiles rolls his eyes. He drops onto the side of the bed and reaches out so he can squeeze Derek’s hand. “I’m not… well, I am mad. But not… not at you. Not really. I’m just… frustrated about this whole thing.”

Derek snorts and Stiles squints at him. “How much do you actually understand me right now? I don’t know if you’re just… mute but otherwise normal, or if… like how much of you is still you? If it really is that curse from last year… I don’t even remember exactly what she said. It was something about you becoming the animal inside. But… that was a year ago and nothing happened, so it doesn’t really make sense for that to be the problem now.” He rubs his face with his free hand.  “Der, I really wish we knew what was going on with you.”

Derek whines gently again and wraps his arms around Stiles’ shoulders. He pulls him closer slowly until Stiles is resting his head against Derek’s shoulder. 

“Thanks, big guy,” Stiles says softly. “I think you’re you… just… well, you’re cuddly like I always kind of wished you’d be, if we got…” 

Stiles sits up abruptly and stares at Derek. “Was it me? Did I somehow do something? Are you only like this because I wished you’d be more affectionate or something? Oh shit, Derek, if I did this to you somehow, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Derek snorts and shakes his head. He tries to pull Stiles close again, but Stiles shakes his head. “No, really, I don’t want you to be doing something you don’t actually want. Like… if I somehow, even accidentally or unintentionally, if I did something that magically coerced you into acting this way… fuck, Derek. I’ll never forgive myself.” 

“Stiles,” Derek says and then scrunches up his face like he’s in pain.

Stiles stares at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. 

Derek frowns and purses his lips. “Stiles… stop. Not. Not you. Me.”

Stiles reaches forward and cups the side of Derek’s face. “Holy shit. You’re talking.”

Derek shakes his head, clearly frustrated. “It’s…” he leans forward and places a quick kiss on Stiles’ forehead. “You’re good. I’m… lost.”

Stiles squeezes his eyes closed. “You might’ve been lost. But… I’m here now, so you’re coming back, right? What can I do to help?”

Derek sighs and wraps his arms around Stiles again, and this time Stiles doesn’t fight him. 

“Just… just being with me helps?”

Derek nods. 

“Alright,” Stiles says into Derek’s chest. “Alright, I can do that. I don’t need to leave the house at all today, not after Scott dropped off the groceries last night. We can spend the whole day together, and maybe, hopefully, the words will start coming easier and then you can explain what happened and we can figure out how to make sure you’re good. And you stay good.”

Derek sighs and squeezes Stiles gently. 

They stay like that for another few minutes before Stiles picks up his phone and checks his notifications. There’s a text from Scott letting him know that there’s no news. There’s also a text from his dad that simultaneously mocks him for getting stuck babysitting a werewolf, offering to bring him anything he needs, and suggesting he and Derek use this time to figure out their feelings for each other. 

“Thanks, Dad,” Stiles murmurs to himself. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair and looks up at Derek, who is apparently content with simply holding Stiles. He pats Derek’s arm and slowly stands up. “I'm going to take a shower,” Stiles says as he turns towards the bathroom. He pauses and looks back at Derek, who had taken a step to follow after him. Stiles places a hand on his chest, “Alone. I'm going to take a shower alone.” 

Derek frowns. Stiles might have even called it a pout, but that might be going too far. 

“You can wait outside the door or go back to bed or go into the kitchen. I don't know, put something on the TV. Read a book. Do some yoga. Just… let me have a few minutes alone in here, alright?”

Derek’s eyebrows shoot up, as if he had a sudden thought, and he grins before turning and hurrying down the hallway. 

Stiles stares after him for a long minute before shaking his head and going into the bathroom. Derek had spoken, but it was clearly still a struggle. It was like all of his emotions were on the surface, unable to be controlled or hidden. Stiles is a little worried about where Derek went, but he sighs and goes into the bathroom. If he only gets a few minutes of privacy, he wants to enjoy it.

Stiles thinks about jerking off in the shower, but he doesn’t want to get interrupted. That would be just entirely too awkward, on top of everything else. And he’s not sure how long Derek will wait outside. After shutting the shower off, Stiles peeks out of the bathroom hesitantly. His room seems empty and he smells things coming from the kitchen, so he hurries through getting dressed and then makes his way down the hall. 

When he walks into the kitchen, Derek waves for him to sit at the small table. Stiles is bemused but sits, and Derek brings over a mug of coffee, perfectly made how he likes it, in his favorite mug. Stiles watches as Derek places a large platter of French toast and a bowl of cut fresh berries. There's also warm butter, syrup, and whipped cream. 

Stiles stares at the spread.

“You did all this while I was in the shower?”

Derek nods and grins, looking proud and very pleased with himself. 

Stiles takes a sip of coffee and marvels at the mug. “It's perfect,” he says slowly.

Derek preens.

Stiles cocks his head to the side. “It's really you. Like. I know it's you, but also something else is clearly going on, but it's really you in there.”

Derek frowns slightly before nodding. “Eat,” he says finally, pointing at the food.

Stiles nods slowly and digs in. He can't fully work through this. Derek prepared his favorite breakfast. And made his coffee perfectly. Scott couldn't even do that. And he had done it because… he wanted to? Because Stiles had refused to let him stay near him while he was in the bathroom. Because… he wanted to make Stiles happy?

Stiles eats and thinks and tries not to look too long at Derek because he hasn’t stopped smiling once. He just looks so goddamn happy and the look is tragically foreign on his face. Suddenly, an absolutely awful thought occurs to Stiles. “Shit, wait… Derek, I'm so sorry… but… do you remember what happened to your family?”

Derek's grin fades slightly. “Of course.”

“But… how are you so… you seem so happy now, but normally… you never smile this much.” 

Derek shrugs and frowns thoughtfully. “That was in the past. I can't do anything about it. I… hmm… it happened and it was sad and I was sad. And mad. And… a lot of things. But now… now I'm with you and that makes me happy.”

Stiles stares. “I have so many questions.”

Derek grins. “Okay.”

Stiles just stares some more. 

“Eat,” Derek reminds, pointing at Stiles’ plate. 

At a complete loss for how to deal with this version of Derek, Stiles finishes eating his meal. 

“I, uh, I’m going to do some work now, alright?” Stiles says hesitantly as he stands up and clears off his plate. 

“Okay,” Derek says with a grin as he helps clear the plates. He follows Stiles into the room that doubles as the office and spare bedroom. 

Stiles pulls out the desk chair and settles down. Then he glances back up at Derek, who is just standing kind of awkwardly near him. Stiles rolls his eyes and gestures toward the couch. “You can sit and read. I know I’ve got plenty of books on the bookcase there that you like.”

Derek runs one hand along Stiles’ shoulders before going to the bookcase. He surveys it for a few minutes before taking a book, but he just puts it on the couch’s arm before coming back to Stiles. He rests his hands on Stiles’ shoulders and just leans against the back of the chair for a minute. Stiles sighs and rests his head against Derek’s sternum.

“Der, as nice as this is, I need to focus.”

Derek runs his face across Stiles’ hair for a second and then goes to the couch.  

Stiles works for the next hour or two, although he probably only achieves 30 minutes of actual work. His mind keeps wandering. How much of Derek is really Derek right now? He clearly has access to his memories, but he’s just behaving so strangely. What could be making him behave that differently than normal?

At one point while Stiles is working, Derek leaves the room. Stiles notices and blinks after him, but focuses on his work. A little while later, Derek comes back into the room and gently tugs on Stiles, and then leads him to the kitchen table, where Stiles sees that Derek set the table and prepared them sandwiches, chips, and orange slices. 

“How did you know that was what I was in the mood for?” Stiles marvels. He glances at Derek, who ducks his chin and smiles faintly. “No, but, dude seriously, how did you know? I didn’t say anything and there’s no way you could know exactly when I’d be hungry. And… I know you can’t read minds but this is weird. I really wish you could talk to me right now.”

Derek shrugs. He steps closer to Stiles and slowly takes his hand. He lifts it and places it, palm open, on his chest. He pats his hand over the top of Stiles' hand and smiles. Then he nods. “I don't need words. We feel this.” He placed his hand, palm open, over Stiles' heart. “See? We feel it together.”

“Duuuuuuuuuude,” Stiles says slowly. “What the fuck. Seriously. Who are you and what have you done with my Derek?”

“I am your Derek.” Derek scowls. “I am,” he repeats.

Stiles shakes his head. “My Derek is emotionally constipated and snarky. Not… not open and honest and all of this. It's kind of creeping me out.”

Derek huffs. “Eat,” he commands, pointing at the table.

Stiles complies and can’t help but grin at the bag of chips that Scott had clearly bought for them. They were his favorites. But also, Derek knew that and had chosen to serve them. He’d never seen Derek choose to eat junk food that wasn’t first offered to him. 

They finish eating, and as Stiles cleans the plates, Derek stares out the kitchen door at the vivid blue sky visible through the bare trees of the preserve. “Walk?” he asks, turning to face Stiles. 

Stiles glances at the clock. “A short one?”

Derek smiles and nods before turning to go to the coat closet near the front door. They both pull on sweaters and jackets and step into warm boots. Stiles marvels, not for the first time, how convenient it is that he and Derek wear the same size shoes. 

The walk through the preserve is peaceful, and Derek reaches out to take Stiles’ hand as soon as they leave Stiles’ property. Derek pauses them a few times to point out a pair of cardinals, a small herd of deer, and one time, a red-tailed hawk watching them from a tree branch. 

Stiles’ face is half-frozen by the time they get back to the house and Derek grins as he rubs his thumbs over Stiles’ rosy cheeks. 

“Go, work,” Derek says softly and pushes Stiles in the direction of his office. Stiles laughs as he sees Derek turn toward the cabinet with the coffee in it. Stiles hangs up their jackets before stopping in the bathroom, and then finally settling in his desk chair. 

Only a minute or two later, Derek comes in with a mug of coffee and a few cookies on a plate. 

“You’re spoiling me,” Stiles says with a small laugh. 

Derek grins and presses a kiss to Stiles’ temple before leaving the room. He’s back after only a minute or so with his own mug and plate. He settles on the couch with a book and looks up at Stiles before opening the book. They both smile and sigh and then Stiles shakes himself and forces his eyes toward his computer screen. 

They both drink their coffee and eat their cookies, and if they occasionally find themselves staring at the other, neither of them does anything about it. 

Eventually, Stiles closes his computer and sighs. He glances over at Derek, who had fallen asleep at one point during the afternoon. Stiles smiles as he quietly gathers the assorted glasses and plates they had gathered and when he glances over at Derek, his eyes are open and he’s watching Stiles silently. 

“I’ll make dinner,” Stiles says quietly. “You can keep napping if you’d like.”

Derek rolls onto his back and stretches. Stiles blinks and has to avert his eyes quickly before he takes in the full expanse of toned stomach that suddenly becomes visible. He bites his lip as he hurries from the room. 

He surveys the kitchen and decides to make chicken cutlets. Scott had bought those canned biscuit things and also a couple salad bags, so he could assemble all that while cooking the chicken. It wouldn’t be the fanciest meal, but it would be quick and nutritious enough. 

When Stiles is half-done, Derek comes into the kitchen, blinking against the bright light and rubbing at his messy hair. He steps up close to Stiles and wraps one arm around his waist. Stiles tries to keep his breathing even as Derek presses a kiss to his shoulder and then rubs his face along Stiles’ neck. 

“Need help?” Derek asks, his voice still rough with sleep. 

Stiles bites his lip before nodding at one of the cabinets. “Want to set the table and get drinks?”

Derek nods and presses a kiss to Stiles’ shoulder again before releasing him and moving to take care of their task. 

“How are you feeling?” Stiles asks when they finally sit at the table to eat. 

Derek exhales slowly and looks down before shrugging. “Normal, but not.” He smiles wryly at Stiles. “Sorry.”

Stiles huffs and covers Derek’s hand. “Don’t apologize. None of this is your fault. I’m pretty sure. I can’t figure out why on earth you’d do this on purpose.”

Derek snorts and shakes his head. Then he laughs softly. 

“What?”

Derek shrugs again. “This is nice.” His wide gesture encompasses the food, the pair of them eating together, the kitchen, everything. 

“This is nice,” Stiles agrees, trying to bat down his hopes again. This all is nice, Stiles reminds himself, but it doesn’t mean anything. Just because it feels so stunningly domestic doesn’t mean anything. Just because it feels different from other times he’s eaten dinner with Derek over the years, doesn’t mean that this means anything. 

After they finish eating, Stiles goes to clean the dishes. 

“Are you in the mood for dessert tonight?” Stiles asks, glancing over his shoulder at Derek. 

“Ice cream?” Derek suggests. 

Stiles opens the freezer and then shakes his head. “All I’ve got in here is Moose Tracks.”

“That’s alright.”

Stiles levels a glare at Derek. “You hate Moose Tracks.”

Derek shrugs. “I don’t hate it. It’s your favorite.”

“We should have something we both like. There’s brownie mix. It’ll only take… uh… 18 minutes to bake.”

“That sounds good.”

Stiles stares at Derek. “Are you just going to agree with everything I suggest?”

Derek grins. “Probably.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and takes a bowl out of the cabinet. Derek comes up next to him and grabs two eggs out of the fridge, and they proceed to make the brownies together. 

After pouring the batter into the pan and popping it in the oven, Stiles turns to thank Derek for his help, but stops when he realizes the other man is laughing silently, his shoulder shaking as he tries to keep in his mirth.

“What?”

“How did you even do this?” Derek wheezes, reaching up to hold Stiles’ chin with one hand so he can wipe along Stiles’ cheek with the other hand. He pulls his thumb back to show Stiles a large smudge of chocolate batter. He pops his thumb in his mouth and sucks on it. 

Stiles flails backwards, “Whoa, okay, thanks for cleaning my face. Let me just grab a paper towel and make sure that I get the rest of it.” He rubs his cheek vigorously and when he’s done, he glances at Derek, who is smirking at him. 

“Well, let me go do, uh, I’m going to go do a load of laundry while this bakes,” Stiles says, knowing with his whole heart that his cheeks are flaming red. 

Stiles spends several minutes in the laundry room trying to force his heart rate to come down. 

When he comes back out, Derek is sitting at the table doing a crossword puzzle, and there’s only one minute left on the brownie timer. He pulls the tray out and cuts two large pieces of brownie. Derek comes over and scoops a large serving of ice cream on top of the hot brownies, and the two of them go back to the table to eat together. 

“Alright, now this is perfect,” Stiles says around a full mouth. 

“Agreed,” Derek says, smiling widely. 

When they’re finally finished cleaning up the kitchen after dessert, Stiles stops in the hall outside of his bedroom and turns to face Derek.

“I think you should sleep in the guest room tonight,” Stiles says, trying to keep his own reluctance out of his voice.

Derek's eyebrows shoot up. “Why?” He sounds genuinely surprised.

“Because even though you're getting closer to your normal self… this still isn't you. I don't want to take advantage of you in this state that you're in.”

Derek reaches out and squeezes Stiles' wrist. “I want to be with you. I do.”

Stiles shakes his head slowly, “Okay… but that in itself is a sign that something's still going on. The Derek I'm used to wouldn’t just say that.”

Derek exhales roughly. “I always want to be with you. Even before. No matter what. Even when I didn’t say it.”

Stiles shakes his head and smiles sadly. 

Derek’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wait! We should sleep together because being near you helps me.”

“So… you're saying if we sleep together… that’ll help you return to normal faster?”

Derek nods several times.

Stiles squints at him. Then he rolls his eyes and mutters, “I am not strong enough for this, good fucking lord. C’mon Der. Just… I just hope you don’t hate me for this when you’re finally yourself again.”

Their bedtime routine ends up being pretty similar to the previous night and Stiles falls asleep on his side facing away from Derek. 

He wakes, just like the previous morning, tangled with Derek. 

Stiles opens his eyes and Derek grins. He had apparently been awake and just… watching Stiles sleep? 

Stiles groans. “Good morning.”

“I’m so glad you’re awake,” Derek says softly. 

Stiles lifts his eyebrows as he slowly pulls out of Derek’s arms and makes his way to the bathroom. He comes back after a minute to see Derek sitting up in bed, the grin still there. 

“I really like waking up with you,” Derek says. “It’s really nice. It’s, it’s pretty much perfect. Yeah. Waking up with you is perfect.”

Stiles stares for a few seconds before nodding and turning for the door. “C’mon. I need coffee. And bacon. Do we have bacon left?”

“We do! I’ll cook it. I really like cooking for you. It makes me feel like a good partner. Do you like that term? Partner? I like it. Because I can’t call you my mate yet. And obviously we’re not married yet. But you’re so much more than a boyfriend. Boyfriend sounds so juvenile, doesn’t it? Like. Boyfriends are for high school or college or things like that. And we’re older now, so, partner sounds–”

Derek stops talking when Stiles walks back to him and places a hand over his mouth. 

“Please stop,” Stiles says tiredly. 

Derek stares up at Stiles with sad puppy-dog eyes. 

“I told you I don’t want to have relationship talks until you’re back to normal. And talking about what label to use to describe us definitely, one hundred percent, completely counts as a relationship talk. Which we are not going to have, until you are back to normal.”

Derek nods, so Stiles removes his hand. 

“But I feel normal today!” Derek says after a few seconds. 

Stiles folds his arms and stares. “Really.” He’s spent enough time around the Hales. He can drop question marks from his questions. 

Derek nods several times. 

“This,” Stiles waves one finger at Derek, “this isn’t normal. Rambling about the proper relationship term to use for us, that isn’t normal for you. Me, maybe, in one of my drunker moments. But not for you.”

Derek groans and rolls his eyes. “Stiles, I just like you so much, please can we hold hands? I really want to kiss you but I know you said we can't kiss yet because you don't think I'm really me, even though I am! I am! I can prove it! How can I prove it to you?”

Stiles exhales slowly. “You can prove it to me by being quiet and patient.”

“Quiet!” Derek says with a grin. “I can be quiet!”

Stiles raises one eyebrow and stares at him. 

“It's just that you smell so good,” Derek gushes after being quiet for about three seconds. “And that's why I want to be close to you all the time.”

“Yep,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes and turning to walk into the kitchen. “That's what I thought.”

Derek follows a few paces behind Stiles. “But how does me being quiet prove anything?”

“Because you’re never this open and chatty,” Stiles replies as he waves at Derek. “That’s how I know you still aren’t normal.”

Derek growls softly and then steps around Stiles quickly and pushes him up against the fridge. “Normal? Should I tell you about all of the chemo signals that I ignore on a normal basis? My control is so fucking fantastic that I never act on your chemo signals. I can always smell how much you want me. I know you want me,” Derek lowers his face so his lips brush along Stiles' jawline, “And it's only fair if you know that I want you just as much.”

A full-body shudder runs through Stiles and he places his hands on Derek's upper arms and shoves. 

“Not fair,'” Stiles grunts with effort, even though Derek does move, somewhat of his own volition. Stiles knows he wouldn't be able to move Derek this much if he wasn't cooperating. “Not fair because that's not something you've ever told me, so it doesn't count. Even if… even if it's true. It's not fair.” Stiles shudders again. “Derek, please. If… if you really feel this way… just wait. Wait until you're fully, normally you. And we'll talk about it. Ok? I promise. Just… I can't do it with you now, and then have you go back to normal and learn that you… that you didn't really mean it or something.”

“But how can I not mean it?” Derek asks fervently, stepping forward slightly, even though he does manage to keep the personal space barrier that Stiles had established. “I've felt it for years now. Just because I've been too stupid and stubborn to say anything doesn't mean it's not real. Plus… I'm me now! Normal me, just… without all of my stupid self-imposed rules and shit.”

“Yes, well all of those stupid self-imposed rules and shit are part of what I fucking love about you, alright?” Stiles snaps and Derek steps back in alarm. Stiles practically snarls as he continues, “I’m glad you’re getting better. I really am. And I’m really fucking upset that something happened to you, and I’m sorry that I seemed to have been accidentally involved somehow. But this has been tortuous for me. Because I don’t know how much of this is actually you! And I don’t know if anything you’re saying is real. And I don’t even know how much of this you’re going to remember!”

Derek whines and reaches for Stiles, who sidesteps his arm and starts pacing as he rants. 

“And you’re going to wake up tomorrow or the day after or whenever, and you’ll finally be back to normal I hope, but if it turns out you didn’t actually mean any of this or you regret saying it or whatever, I don’t know how I’m going to deal with that. But also if you wake up and don’t remember any of this, then what am I supposed to do about that?”

“Did you say you love me?”

Stiles stops pacing and turns to stare at Derek, who is returning the stare with wide eyes. 

“You love me,” Derek repeats slowly. “You love me and you’re scared that there’s still something wrong with me.” He covers his face with one hand. “You love me and you’re trying to respect my boundaries and make sure I can consent to all of this and that’s why you don’t want to talk about our feelings yet. You love me and you want to be sure I’m healthy and back in control. You want to wait because you love me.”

“Derek, I can–”

Derek shakes his head and smiles. “It’s okay. I understand now.” 

Stiles watches Derek for a long silent minute. “Derek…”

“Let’s cook and eat real quick. Then you can focus on your work. I’ll be quiet. I’ll prove that I can. And if I can’t, and you’re right, then I just need to be near you until I can get more control and then we’ll talk. You might be right, and I might not be in control, because you’re right, I’m talking a lot, but… I’m definitely getting better. So… I’ll wait. I’m waiting.” He nods resolutely at the end of his small speech and Stiles stares at him with his mouth hanging open.

“So you’re going to… let me work?”

Derek nods. “I’ll read. And then later I’ll cook. I like cooking for you. It makes me feel–” He snaps his lips closed and then laughs. “See? I can stop myself from talking about my feelings.”

Stiles smiles faintly and rubs a hand along his forehead. He feels vaguely like his world is tilting off its axis, but also… this is a good sign, right?

They end up cooking together and then Derek pushes Stiles toward the office while he cleans up.

Stiles walks to his desk and sits down gingerly. He can focus on work for a few hours, right?  He can be productive and not dwell on the fact that Derek is getting close enough to normal that he is working through more complex concepts. That’s definitely a good sign. 

After ten minutes of staring off in the distance, Stiles finally caves and puts his headphones on so he can block out as much as possible. His work playlist always helps him to focus. And Derek isn’t doing anything but reading at this point, so there’s no reason for him to be distracting right now. 

After almost two hours of actual productive work, Stiles jumps slightly when Derek steps close to him and rubs one hand along his shoulders. 

“Sorry,” he says softly as he leans close and presses his cheek to Stiles’ hair, “I just needed to touch you for a second. I didn’t realize I’d scare you. I’m going to go make lunch, alright? You in the mood for anything specific?”

Stiles lets his head lean back against Derek’s chest before shaking his head. “I think we’ve still got cold cuts. Maybe just a sandwich? And I can help make it.”

“No, please,” Derek says, pressing his cheek to Stiles’ head again. “Let me. I’ll come get you when they’re ready.”

Stiles nods and pulls his headphones back on while Derek leaves the room. He finishes the task he had been in the middle of, and then puts the headphones down. He’s entitled to a full lunch break, and just because Derek wants to prepare lunch for him doesn’t mean he needs to do it alone. 

He walks into the kitchen and stops in the doorway. Derek must know he’s here, what with his super hearing and everything, but he doesn’t acknowledge Stiles. He just keeps working and humming quietly to himself and Stiles gulps. What if… what if Derek had been telling the truth before? What if he really did mean it? Then Stiles would really have to… deal with all of that when the time came, and not a moment sooner. 

“Are you just going to stand there?” Derek asks quietly without turning around. 

Stiles laughs softly and comes into the kitchen. He steels himself and steps up close behind Derek and wraps his arms slowly around his waist. He feels Derek freeze and he lays his head on his shoulder. 

“I’m still not ready to talk, but, if being near me really does help as much as it seems like it does, then… then I want to hurry up so we can have that talk,” Stiles says quietly. 

Derek waits a few seconds before turning in Stiles’ arms and returning the hug. “Thank you.”

They stand there like that for a long minute before Stiles taps Derek’s back, “So, what kind of sandwiches are we having?”

“Ham and swiss,” Derek answers, “and also I found some cheese doodles. I’m assuming you’re happy with that?”

“Oh hell yes!” Stiles replies with a grin. “I forgot about those!”

They sit down to eat together and Stiles can’t help but return Derek’s grin. They might both look slightly goofy, but he just can’t help it. If there’s even a chance that this all is real… that he can actually have this… no matter how much he tries to prevent himself from growing hopeful… it’s nearly impossible with a quietly grinning Derek sitting across from him and occasionally tapping their knees together. 

“You want to go for a walk again?” Stiles asks as he finishes his last chip. 

He had been expecting Derek to look excited, and he’s surprised when instead Derek seems to soften. “I really, really do,” he responds softly. 

Stiles feels like his cheeks are heating under Derek’s look. There’s something soft and earnest in it that he hasn’t quite seen before. This expression, somehow, is more disarming that anything else Derek has done this week. 

They both bundle up again and go out into the woods, and after twenty minutes or so, Derek reaches out and takes Stiles’ hand. He thinks about saying something, but Derek’s hand is really warm and Stiles just can’t find the strength to let go. Instead of talking and pointing things out today, they just make their way through the woods, silently enjoying the chill winter air and each other’s presence, and the warmth of their shared hands.

When they get back to the house, Derek stops just inside the kitchen and cups Stiles’ jaw. “Thank you,” he says quietly. 

Stiles feels like the breath has been stolen from his lungs. He nods to Derek before going to his office.

What had he said before? Derek could prove that he was himself again by being patient and quiet? Wasn’t that exactly what he was doing?

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut and then puts his headphones on again, forcing himself to focus on his computer screen.

A few hours later, Stiles glances at the clock and grins. He’s finished enough work that he can justify finishing a little early today. And that means that he can start dinner.

He glances at Derek, where he’s been sleeping peacefully for the last hour or so. Stiles gets up as quietly as he can and eases out of the room. He tiptoes down the hallway and tries to set up the ingredients as silently as he can. 

He’s halfway through cooking when Derek appears in the doorway, eyes glowing blue. 

“Hey!” Stiles says, “What’s up? Are you–”

He stops talking when Derek surges forward and wraps his arms around Stiles’ waist and leans their foreheads together. Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s back without hesitation.

“I’m sorry,” Derek whispers. “I woke up and you weren’t there and I… I panicked.”

“Shit,” Stiles says, squeezing Derek. “I didn’t even think about that. I’m so sorry. I wanted to prepare a meal for you again, since you keep cooking for me.”

Derek purses his lips. “That’s really sweet.”

“Sweet, but not thoughtful enough,” Stiles corrects. “Sweet, but not considerate of the shit you’re going through.”

Derek huffs softly and lifts his head away from Stiles’, his eyes fully back to normal again. “No, it was sweet,” he says. “And thank you for treating me like I’m normal again… even if you don’t fully believe that I am.”

Stiles looks away and sighs, before looking back up at Derek and smiling. “Well, you’re welcome. Now go sit down so I can finish dinner.”

Derek laughs softly and asks, “How much longer do you need?”

Stiles looks around. “Maybe half an hour?”

“Can I do anything to help?”

“Nope. Just sit there and look pretty.”

Derek raises an eyebrow as he lowers himself onto a chair. “Well, alright. I suppose I can do that.”

Stiles laughs and turns back toward the food. 

“So,” Derek asks, “how was work? I’m sorry I haven’t asked yet. Were you able to take the time off while you were in Poland? Did they give you a hard time?”

Stiles shrugs, “Don’t worry. I get that it wasn’t your priority at first. They were pretty understanding. I had a few Zoom conference calls at ridiculous times, and I put in a few hours here and there just so I wouldn’t fall too far behind, but it was mostly fine. I definitely have things to catch up on now, but it’s not that bad.”

Derek nods and they keep talking about work while Stiles finishes cooking, and while they eat, Stiles tells Derek about all of the family he visited while in Poland, and Stiles can’t help but grin as he watches Derek wash up afterwards. 

“You cooked, the least I can do is clean,” Derek says when Stiles protests. 

“But you don’t need to. It’s my house. I can clean up.”

“It’s your house,” Derek corrects, “but I’ve been eating here for days now. And you clean up when I cook. It’s fair.”

Stiles sighs with a grin. “Alright.”

After dinner, they put on a hockey game. None of the teams they actually like are playing today, but it’s still nice to sit on the couch together and do something as mundane and normal as watching a game together. 

When the game ends, Stiles yawns and Derek elbows him. “C’mon. Bed. You’re still adjusting to this time zone, so going to bed now is probably a good idea.”

Stiles yawns again and nods. “Alright. I can’t argue with you.”

Derek laughs softly as he pushes at Stiles again, slightly harder this time, to prompt him to actually get off the couch. 

Stiles makes his way down the hallway to the bathroom and goes through his entire before-bed routine. He comes out of the bathroom in pajamas and Derek is waiting in the hallway outside his bedroom. Stiles blinks in surprise. 

Derek steps close and cups Stiles’ cheek again. “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight, if you really want me to.”

“Derek…” 

“I’ll sleep there, but tomorrow, or the day after, or whenever you feel ready to talk about everything, I am going to kiss you.” Stiles gulps and Derek’s eyes close for a second as he inhales and exhales slowly. “Goodnight, Stiles.”

Derek turns and takes two steps down the hallway before Stiles says, “Wait,” and pulls Derek back toward him. He wraps one hand around the back of Derek’s neck and uses that to pull him in for a fierce kiss. Derek’s hands are both on Stiles in an instant, one gripping his hip and the other carding up through his hair. Stiles moans as their tongues meet and Derek growls softly when Stiles nips at his lip.  

“Der?”

“Hmm?” Derek hums into Stiles’ skin as he kisses down his jaw. 

“Der, hold up a second,” Stiles pants. 

Derek takes his lips off Stiles’ skin, but doesn’t lift his head away. 

“I still think we should sleep separately,” Stiles says, even though it takes pretty much all of his will power.

Derek sighs and steps back. “Alright.”

“Really? Just… alright?”

Derek huffs slightly. “Well, I think I’ve made it pretty obvious that I want to be in your bed… but I’m also trying to show that I’m me, normal me, again. So, yes, alright. I will respect your boundaries.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Derek takes a step back and turns halfway toward the guest room before looking back over his shoulder. “Are you going to jump me again?”

Stiles laughs outright and crosses his arms over his chest. “Not tonight.”

“Alright. I can live with that,” Derek replies.

Stiles closes his bedroom door behind him and then softly thunks his forehead against it. Nothing about this week made any sense at all.  He has spent years wishing he could be closer to Derek, to get him to talk about his feelings, to have him want to be in his bed, and now… now he has all of those things but isn’t sure if he can trust them. And the last thing he ever wants to do to Derek is break his confidence or take advantage of him. 

You know, something like kissing him when he isn’t sure if he is in his right mind yet or not. 

Stiles gently thunks his head against the door a few more times before groaning and taking the few steps to flop himself onto his bed. 

He shouldn’t have kissed Derek. 

He should have waited. 

He told Derek that he had to wait, and he has been waiting. But Stiles, who has no excuse, couldn’t manage. What the hell. 

But also, that kiss had been life-altering. 

Stiles drifts off to sleep finally, thoughts jumping between overwhelming joy at the prospect that Derek seems to want him just as much as he wants him and frustrated anger at the whole entire uncertain situation they are in. 

He wakes up alone and is disappointed at just how disappointed he feels. Derek told him that he’d respect his boundaries, and he is. And Stiles should be glad because this is a sign that Derek is finally closer to his normal self. But he’s disappointed to be alone in bed. 

Stiles sighs and gets up. He uses the bathroom and hesitantly makes his way to the kitchen. 

Derek looks up as he walks through the doorway and the smile he throws at Stiles isn’t anywhere near as wide and care-free as the ones he’s seen in the last few days. But it looks just as genuine. 

“Hey,” Stiles says, his voice coming out rough with sleep. 

Derek leans back against the counter and folds his arms over his chest. He sighs and then drops his arms, bracing them against the counter. 

Stiles winces and opens his mouth to apologize for everything when Derek speaks first. 

“I meant everything I said.”

“What?” Stiles’ mouth falls open. 

“Well, I don’t have very clear memories of when you came back and I found you. How long was I with you before I tried to kiss you when we woke up in bed together?”

“Um… maybe 15 hours?”

Derek nods slowly. “That makes sense.” At Stiles’ confused floundering gesture, Derek explains, “Waking up with you in my arms is my first really solid memory, but even that is still pretty hazy. I got my control back faster than I lost it. You know my control is usually great. And, well, you have to know that you’re my anchor… right?”

Stiles makes a gesture halfway between a shrug and a flail. “I thought that I might be, but I wasn’t sure. Malia said I am. But… I still wasn’t sure.”

“Once you came back, I found you, even though I was mostly wolf at that point. I found you and just being with you helped me to start coming back to myself. I’m sorry I tried to kiss you, by the way.”

“You are?” Stiles wants to sink into the ground and disappear.

“I am,” Derek nods and pushes gently away from the counter. “Thank you for thinking about my consent and mindset. I would have been really upset if I didn’t have a clear memory of our first kiss.”

“You… you would?”

Derek nods and takes a few more steps toward Stiles.

“And… do you remember…?”

“Last night?” Derek asks, his eyes crinkling at the side with the hint of a smile. “I do.”

Stiles gulps.

“I also remember the promise I made to you, about what I planned to do today after we talked.”

Stiles nods and takes a deep breath. “You seem normal, finally.”

Derek nods and stops moving, just out of Stiles’ reach. “I do. I feel normal. Even yesterday, I felt mostly normal. I was me, but just… not fully in control. But I finally feel completely grounded.”

Stiles licks his lips. “And you still… you still want…”

Derek takes one step closer and reaches out so he can tangle the fingers of one hand with Stiles’. “I do, if you want me too.”

Stiles surges forward and kisses Derek, but then pulls back after only a few seconds. 

“What?” Derek asks, his arms tight around Stiles' back and his breath coming quickly. 

Stiles leans back just enough so he can clearly look Derek in the eye. “Wait, we're still skipping a few steps.”

Derek nods, “I know. I want to take you out on a date. Tonight?”

“No, no,” Stiles starts, but then rethinks his response, “Okay wait, yes, I'd like to go on a date. But that's not what I meant.”

Derek raises one eyebrow and tilts his head slightly. 

“Why… why didn't you ever say anything? You… yesterday you said, and I know it wasn't fully you, but it also kinda was… but you said you ignore my chemosignals all the time, so you must’ve known that I’ve wanted you basically forever, and that it wasn’t just attraction, right? You knew I had feelings for you?”

Derek bites his lip and nods. “I didn’t really know what you felt, just that… just that you were attracted. And… I don’t know how to explain… fond? Emotions are hard to parse out and put into words. But… but you love everyone in the pack, just in different ways. So… I didn’t know how you felt about me. Not for sure.”

“That’s why people talk about things,” Stiles groans as he steps back and takes a few steps away as he rubs at his hair. “Or, at least that’s why they’re supposed to.”

“Well, you could have said something too, you know,” Derek says, a hint of defensiveness in his voice. 

“You’re right,” Stiles acknowledges. “I could have. But… but I felt too much and I was… it was too overwhelming. If I thought I had a chance in hell of being with you, romantically, I would've made a move!”

Derek takes a slow step toward Stiles. 

Stiles groans and stares at the ceiling for a few seconds before looking back down at Derek. “And just to be clear, you have feelings for me too? And had them back before I went to Poland also?”

Derek nods again, slower this time.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Stiles asks, turning to stare at Derek, “When you felt your control starting to slip? I would’ve come home.”

“I know,” Derek says, shrugging one shoulder. “But I didn’t want to interrupt your trip. And I didn't want to admit that I couldn’t handle it on my own.”

Stiles sighs and stares at Derek. “It’s okay to admit that we need each other. Isn’t that basically how our whole thing started? We both acknowledged that we need the other to survive?”

“But you don’t need me,” Derek protests. “Not… not the way I need you. And I didn’t want to be a burden. I don't… I didn’t want you to come home because you felt guilty or because you felt like you had to take care of me.”

Stiles reaches out and places his hands on either side of Derek's face, “You are a self-sacrificing loon and one of these days I'm going to manage to convince you that you're worth the world.”

Derek smiles faintly as he stares at Stiles but as he opens his mouth to speak, he tilts his head to the side instead, listening. “Scott is here. And… Deaton. And…” then he scowls. “That witch.”

“What? They brought her here? Without calling or anything?”

“Apparently.”

There’s a knock at the front door and then it opens. “Guys? I know it’s early. I’m sorry. Are you up?”

“We are,” Stiles replies as he steps away from Derek and walks toward the front door. “Why is that witch here?”

“We just found her,” Scott explains, gesturing for Deaton and the witch to approach the front door. “How’s Derek doing?”

“Really great, actually,” Stiles says, throwing a look back at Derek, who is still scowling. Derek steps closer to Stiles and takes his hand. “Again, why is there a witch who cursed Derek here, at my house?”

Scott grins widely, “I convinced her to remove the curse. It’s still our best theory for what happened to Derek, right? So, she can fix him.”

“You think I’m going to willingly let her cast magic on me?” Derek asks.

“He’s the one?” the witch asks from beside Deaton. “I thought you said he was feral.”

“He was,” Scott answers, his grin fading. He looks back at Stiles and asks, “You fixed him?”

Stiles shakes his head. “He found his control again. It just took longer than normal.”

“Her magic did work last year,” Derek explains through gritted teeth. “But because I had my anchor with me, I was able to keep control.”

“But then Stiles left the country and you didn’t know how long he’d be gone,” Deaton says slowly, comprehension dawning on his face. “Stiles is your anchor.”

“Thank you,” Derek says dryly, “for telling the hostile witch, who has already cursed me once, my deepest secret.”

“I’m really not hostile,” the woman protests, “I swear. Scott explained everything, and we talked for a while, and I think everything was just a miscommunication.”

“A miscommunication?” Stiles demands. “You cursed Derek to turn him into a wild animal!”

The woman winces. “Not exactly. It’s supposed to be a one-time attack. You know, make him lose control for a bit, and then I’d be able to get away from your pack while you dealt with the chaos, and then once he calms down or whatever, he’d be able to get control like normal. It wasn’t supposed to last a long time or alter him in any significant way.”

“But that didn’t happen,” Stiles points out. “Derek never lost control. He was just dizzy for a couple seconds.”

“Yes, I remember,” the woman laughs bitterly. “I thought I had messed up the spell and then as a last ditch effort to get away, I used a small fortune worth of Moon Dust to fly out of this town.”

“But if he was supposed to be able to recover in just a few minutes,” Stiles says, a confused expression on his face while he looks at Derek, “how come it hit him a year later and took so long to recover from?”

The woman shrugs. “I’m not sure. I suspect that the spell grew in power all the months that it just sat there.”

“So you mean instead of losing control temporarily, he went off the rails and couldn’t find his way back?” Scott asks.

Stiles winces and leans over so he can rest his forehead on Derek’s shoulder. “Der, I’m so sorry.”

“So it’s a one-time thing?” Derek asks, his voice fierce. “It won’t come back?”

“No, I swear,” the witch replies. “And since it went into effect, and you regained your control, you should be completely normal now. No need for me to do anything.”

Stiles squints at her as he weighs her words. “Scott, do we have a reliable way to contact her if she turns out to be wrong?”

Scott nods. “We do.”

“Alright.”

“You can all leave now,” Derek says. “Stiles and I were in the middle of a conversation I’d really like to finish.”

Deaton and Scott exchange glances, but they don’t say anything. 

“Well, thanks and have a nice life,” the witch says with a small wave. “Scott, will you take me back to my car now, please?”

“Sure thing,” Scott says as he leads her back away from the house. “I’ll text you guys later,” Scott calls over his shoulder. 

Derek swings the door shut and Stiles laughs quietly. Then his laugh dies abruptly when Derek spins and takes two quick strides and wraps Stiles in his arms. 

“I'm sorry,” Derek says. “I don't have any type of explanation that will… everything sounds so stupid and pointless now. I was afraid of asking you out. I was afraid of changing what we had. I was afraid that… that'd you'd only be interested in… it's stupid, I know that now, but I was afraid you'd want sex and not a real relationship. I was afraid… because things were so good. I was happy. And I didn't want to mess that up.”

“I get that,” Stiles says quietly. “But… but now that you, or, cursed-you said something, are… are you okay with trying? I can't guarantee that everything will work out. Every relationship is a risk. But I definitely want a real relationship, and not just sex. And I can't imagine… damn, Derek, I woke up next to you twice and then I was lonely this morning. I want to wake up with you every day for the rest of my life. And I know that's kind of ridiculous to say, but nothing about the timing of this is normal, so… I'm scared too, by the way, is kind of the point I’m trying to make.”

Derek nods and then lifts one eyebrow when Stiles grins suddenly. 

“What becomes of the moral, if our comfort springs from a breach of promise? Or, in this case, a year-old spell?” Stiles asks with a laugh.

“Did you really just quote Pride and Prejudice at me?”

“Well, you got my reference.”

Derek snorts. “You need not distress yourself,” he parrots back. “Well, I can’t actually promise that I was going to do something about my feelings. But I should have.”

“How long have you had them, for me, that is?”

Derek snorts. “Do you want me to say, ‘I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun’? Because it’s true. Really. I remember when you were Scott’s annoying friend. And then you became more. We were allies and then friends and then one day… I realized I was half in love with you and I had no idea how to handle it.”

Stiles laughs softly. “I really do love you too, by the way. I know I said it before, while I was ranting, but you were… you weren’t really you then, so, I’m saying it again. I love you.”

“Are you fully satisfied now that I’m myself again?” Derek asks, his eyes so intense it feels like they're boring holes into Stiles' soul. 

Stiles gulps and nods his head. 

Derek grins and cups the side of his face. “I love you too. And I’m going to kiss you again, finally, alright?”

Stiles nods again and Derek’s lips feel like coming home. This kiss doesn’t have the frantic fervor of their first kiss, but Stiles feels like there’s something deeper and more meaningful coursing through them. Derek’s hands grip at his waist for a minute before slowly moving up. As fingers course through his hair, Stiles knows that he doesn’t ever want to kiss anyone else in his life. Stiles can feel Derek’s heartbeat, and knows that his is beating just as rapidly. 

“Oh my god,” Derek says, pulling back after a minute.

“What?” Stiles asks, eyes still half-closed.

“How long were you gone? How long was I like that?”

“Uh… almost a month.”

“Cora is going to fucking kill me,” Derek says with a groan. “I'm honestly surprised she hasn’t shown up to throttle Scott and me yet.”