Work Header

52 wednesdays of our lives

Chapter Text

There are fifty two Wednesdays in a year. There are fifty two of these perfectly ordinary-if not just a bit more hated- week days each and every year. Wednesday is the most miserable day of the week, claim researchers .


Derek Hale met Stiles Stilinski on a gloomy Wednesday on his way to pick Cora up when the kid is barely out of his diapers. Okay, maybe he is twelve and sticks out like a sore thumb, but Derek is twenty so for him it’s basically the same thing. Stiles-and what the fuck is with that?- is in his baby sister’s class and that makes him just as much of a baby, no matter how much he puffs his chest out and tries to make his voice sound deeper.

Derek pulls up by the curb in his mum’s SUV, watching Cora ignore him once again, talking to the lanky boy by her side and refusing to get in the car until she’s explicitly asked to. He rolls down the passenger side window and is just opening mouth when-

“Beat it, perv, or I’m gonna start screaming” to say he’s taken aback by the kids honest to God threats and glare would be the biggest understatement of Derek’s life

“What the f-”

“Dude, really, get the fuck away from the school.” If looks could kill he’d probably be long gone by now “We don’t want your candy or arcade tickets or whatever you got there”

“Hey, kid! Wait a fucking min-”

“Oh how nice of you to notice we are kids without your glasses, dear Granny, guess we don’t have to get closer so that you can get a better look.” The kid starts looking around, probably searching for a teacher or a parent and Derek’s sister looks like she’s just recieved a free Disney world ticket.

Derek wants to strangle her and he sighs deeply, defeated by the realization of how much it sucks to be him.

“Look, really-”

“You can huff and puff all you want, but we’ve got the best built brick house, strengthened by our belief in justice and knowledge of how to protect ourselves from predators like you.”- The fuck? Another fairytale wolf villain? And what’s with the whole philosophical empowerment by this- child?- The boy has one hand on his hip and stares daggers at Derek while his other one holds out his phone, triumphantly showing him he just dialed 911. “So, of you go, Mister Big Bad Wolf. Go hunt cute woodland creatures”

“Oh my fucking god- Cora!” and she bursts out laughing. She even goes full out and drops down on the sidewalk and starts rolling around.

One eternity later, after she’s calm and just smirking at Derek, Stiles phone safely in his pocket and his dad', The Sheriff –of fucking course- nowhere in sight, all introductions are made and no, Derek is not in fact a child molester or predator, Stiles, calm down, he’s just Cora’s grumpy ass older brother

“Hey, dude-“

“Don’t call me dude” it comes out meaner than he intended, but whatever, the kid is still smiling sheepishly up at him

“Okay, grumpus, I just wanted to say sorry. Well not really, like, you know? Like I’m sorry it happened like that but I’m not sorry I did what I thought was right ‘cause it wasn’t just my ass on the line, okay?” Derek doesn’t know how the boy manages the say all the words in a matter of three seconds but he doesn’t seem anywhere near close to shutting up so Derek just stares “You just look really shady, okay? And you’ve got that serial killer vibe and the rape car and what was I supposed to think? I just wanted to keep my friend safe and not have her being sold into slavery or taken to the woods an-”

Derek really doesn’t need the visual, he has a hard enough time letting his sisters go out alone as it is

“Apology accepted” He just grumbles out, opens the door for the devils spawn and goes around the other side of the car, hoping that this is all over.

He looks the kid- all smiles and waves- and sees him catch sight of something behind the SUV and glances at his rear view mirror just to see the a police cruiser get closer. Stiles skips- fucking all out skips, like it’s the best day of his life and he didn’t just almost get Derek arrested- to his dad and Derek hears him bark out a laugh and say “No, pops, that’s not a rape car, I know how to handle those” and he gets in.

Cora is crying about how she’s going to die and how much it hurts, banging her head on the window and laughing her ass off.

Cora apparently loves the kid.

Derek hates him.


It’s on a Sunny if a bit chilly Wednesday a few weeks later and all the kids are home for Thanksgiving, Derek and Laura included, when life decides to throw him a Stiles once again.

Since he and Laura finally found an apartment at a reasonable price and distance from both his school and her job (“I can walk home from work, fucking finally gonna save up on gas” “Get another car.” “How dare you!” ) they can, at last, take most of the belongings they had to leave when moving to New York two years ago. Anything they forget stays in California, as per their mother’s orders. So you could say they’ve religiously gathered everything that comes to mind and packed it in the twenty something boxes crowding the Hales foyer, half of them- supposedly the fragile ones- stuffed under the grand oak staircase.

Which is why Derek doesn’t want to believe that the sound he just heard was his heart breaking.

Eyes tightly shut, he makes his way towards the front door and –call him crazy- he can just about hear the way someone’s heart is about to beat out of their chest.

Slowly, painfully so, he opens his eyes to see Cora and -Stiles- standing by one of the boxes. He doesn’t dare look directly at it but judging by the fact that Cora looks positively guilty- yes, it was his heart breaking.

At their feet is the box with most “Fragile” “Handle with care” “This side up” signs, part of Derek’s precious, faithfully and tirelessly built vinyl collection, undoubtedly shattered to pieces.

Its not to say he hadn’t packed them well, but it looked as if someone had fucking jumped on the box, wanting to cause as much damage as possible. Cora is the first to speak.

“Oh my god Derek I am so so sorry” she mumbled

“Save it”

“No, really, we didn’t mean to-”

“Dude don’t be mad at her” stiles interrupted “It was all my fault”

“Don’t call me dude” It comes out hollow and both kids gape at him. He moves to take the box but the boy gets in his way.

“Derek, I am really sorry, I will pay you back”

“Doesn’t matter” he tries to get pass them, feeling skinny fingers fisting in his sleeve

“Please, Derek” a pair of glassy brown eyes look up at him and the kid really is sorry “I am sorry, I will do anything” unfortunately Derek is beyond that.

“Don’t fucking bother” he hisses “Go play somewhere else”

He climbs up the staircase, clutching the box to his chest, a quiet pathetic sob following him.

Derek despises him.


Its Christmas break and Derek’s been home for a week, when, on the Wednesday, just after the holiday, he trips over a pair of ratty sneakers and brains himself on the fucking sink. How and why the sneakers got into the bathroom across his room is a mystery he has no desire of solving, considering the sharp pain and ringing in his ears. His choice on the matter is taken out of his hands when he turns around and notices the and bright red SS on the bottom of the left one. The same red as the blood dripping down his face.

Derek loathes him.


Cora begs him to come home for her fifteenth birthday, crying –fake as fuck by the way, but his mum insists it’s genuine- about how much she misses her big brother and how he hasn’t been home in years (“I was home for grandma’s birthday, you brat, that was 5 months ago” And, okay, maybe he wasn’t exactly home home, preferring to stay at Boyd’s place in Sacramento while in Cali and drive up only for the days when it was expected of him to.)

While it was kind of cute, if that could ever be said about his little demon sister, Derek wasn’t about to fool himself it was provoked by anything other than her dire need of the money he was sure to give her for her birthday.

She had apparently found a new passion in photography and that was a hell of an expensive hobby for a poor pitiful high schooler, as she had called herself, and she wasn’t about to go and ask their mother to buy her anything just because. The same way Laura had worked at a Chuck E. Cheese (the reason she never wanted children) in order to afford all the art supplies a self-proclaimed art prodigy such as herself needed in high school, the same way Derek had bussed tables and tutored his teammates to afford his sports equipment, now Cora was working at an ice-cream parlor or something.

A job she fortunately shared with –Stiles- of fucking course.

It’s not that he’s scared of the beanpole the kid had become. Hell, Derek probably had good sixty pounds on him, if not more- Stiles seemingly growing only in height and not gaining a fucking pound, but he would prefer to not see his fucking smug grin and have flashback of his babies’ obliteration.

They have the closing shift on Wednesday and after Cora climbs into Derek’s –not Laura’s, Derek’s- Camaro, a 1968 beauty in all her restored shiny leather upholstery glory, Stiles runs up to them and motions for Derek to open his window.
With an exasperated huff he does and the kid sticks his head troug.

“Heeeey, dude”

“Don’t call me dude”

“A blast form the past, huh?” It smiles brightly “Guess some things never change, grumpus”

“Same as your lame sense of humor, probably”

“Takes one to know one” Derek tries to close the window and get as far away from him as possible but the boy waves something in his hand

“Okay, okay, I will leave you alone, just gonna leave a little present for you back there” and moves to throw a box on the backseat

“What the-”

“Take it as a peace offering if you will, so open it as soon as possible” and he smacks his hand on the hood “Of you go, Batman, take care of my Catwoman “his eyes widen and he looks even more like a cartoon character ”no, wait, that’s wrong, you’re her brother. Oh my god, that’s so wrong, I didn’t mean that, please I really-” and Derek drives away.

Enough Stiles for this year.

He has every intention of seeing the so called ‘peace offering’, if only to make sure it’s nothing deadly, but he is whirled into the house by his sisters and mother as soon as he steps a foot out of the car and promptly forgets.

He realizes his mistake the next day, when -in the late afternoon, after the worst of the California July heat has passed- he gets in his car and smells something pungent and sweet and all too strawberry-milkshaky. A stench that has no place in a car that came back from the leather detailer just last week.

Turning around he faces his- or Stiles’- doom.

The box Stiles threw on the leather (did he mention his whole car had leather upholstery) backseat is now lying in a pool of drying sticky bright pink ice cream

Derek has transcended hate and anger.


The next nail in the Stiles coffin he has been constructing in his head for the past three years comes on another unfortunate Wednesday.
His mother calls him while he is about to get to his gym and he really tries to tell her that he’s busy and will call her when he gets to his apartment, but she supposedly has some very exciting news to share with him about one of his sisters.

“And you know how shy she was, honey” she sighs “my poor baby, never seeing her own beauty”

“Yeah mum, but how is that-”

“Don’t interrupt your mother, young man” she cuts him off “But dear Stiles, bless his heart” –yeah, no, he’s more likely to bless his face. With his fist. “He convinced her to try it out and now she’s so happy. She can’t wait to get to San Francisco for the weekend”

“Wait, I thought we were talking about-” he doesn’t get to finish as her icy tone continues

“Yes, we are, and now I am speaking” and as she goes all warm and sweet, he’s convinced his whole family are nut jobs, no wonder Stiles fits so perfectly. “As I was saying, she signed a contact with this agency and her first deal is a photo shoot for some indie clothing company down there. They think their new bathing suit line is going to be all the jazz this year”

And that’s how Derek finds out his baby sister, his Cora, whose diapers he changed, who broke his toys, who braided his hair and put make up on him last time he was home (okay, maybe that happened ten years ago) is going to San Francisco to have her photos taken, in a bathing suit, without anything under or over it, for people to look at. For people to pass on the side walk and scroll through on Facebook or Instagram and every other shitty social media there is. Almost naked pictures of his baby sister out there.

All thanks to



Derek never got the chance to actually get his hands on Stiles’ neck after the whole Cora-(not at all)naked-bikini shabang went down. Turns out the photos are actually pretty tame and tasteful and Cora loved doing it, or so his mum and Laura say, he will gauge his eyes out before looking at those photos.

It’s his twenty fourth birthday and the whole family decides to fly out to New York for a “bonding self-rediscovery trip of enlightenment” (“That makes no fucking sense, Laura, are you baking your brownies again?” “No?” “Is that a question?””No?”)
He’s never going to admit it but he misses them so much it hurts sometimes.

(He admits it after he and Laura Drown a bottle of whiskey and six pack- if Cora helps a bit, no one has to know)

They have more fun than they’ve had since before Laura moved out for college and actually bond all over again. They talk and they laugh and it’s amazing. They get so close so fast that Laura and Cora decide to spend a few nights sharing his bed while he feels better sleeping on his comfortable big fluffy couch. Of course he does. Not.

They are back to being so close that by morning number three he barely flinches when one of them barges into the bathroom to brush her teeth or do her make up, while he showers.

This is why he is more than surprised when Cora knocks on his door –honest to God knocks and waits for an answer. She looks a little confused and uncomfortable, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth and that puts him on guard, its so unlike her. She stumbles inthe room and hands him a bright hot pink packet.

“What’s this, kiddo?” he arches his eyebrow and eyes the thing suspiciously, it’s also unlike her.

“A birthday present?”

“Don’t you know?” he smiles.

“Derek, would you just- please!” and shoves it in his chest

“Okay, okay” he chuckles and takes it “But my birthday is in two days, you know right?”

The stink eye he gets in return is so her.

“Yeah, but you have to get it on Wednesday” and she’s out in a flash

“What? Cora?” he’s positively gaping at the empty doorway wondering what the fuck just happened

He’s not even thinking about it as his fingers tear the bright paper and open the packet until something light lands on his bare foot. He picks the card and is surprised by the elegant handwriting, considering he knows how Cora writes in the chicken scratch only his family is able to create and read.

“Looking for trouble, I guess that's right
When I was young I was taught to fight
It's been long gone since I had known”

Piece by piece, I will put it back together.

Frowning at the familiar words he casts a look back at what he has in his other hand and stops dead in his tracks.

It’s a collectable edition of Deep Purple’s 1974 album “Burn”. He had it before. In the box Stiles destroyed.


The weekend after his parents and sisters have removed themselves from his personal space finds Derek obsessively cleaning his apartment, moving furniture around, washing the carpets and rugs and rubbing every flat surface with the organic home-made cleaners Laura insisted on making for him. He’s had a hard time sleeping ever since Cora handed him the damn album, that he’s constantly looking at or playing.
As he goes to clean out and reorganize the drawers of his bedside cabinets he finds a simple note with a Hale’s abomination of a handwriting and just three lines



Text him.

He huffs and shoves the note into the book he’s currently reading, just because he might -someday for some reason- need to contact the kid, his dad is a sheriff after all. That’s everything

Fucking kids, he hates them (Not really)


He’s woken up in the middle of the night a few weeks later by a ferocious text message attack on his phone. By Cora. And Laura. What the fuck?

He’s about to go back to sleep when his phone rings. At four am, on a Wednesday morning.

“Laura what the fuck do you want? Are you guys insane?” he grumbles

“Oh were you sleeping Der Bear?” she sounds high or just happy as hell, he never knows

“Its four fucking am, you nut jobs, I sure as shit wasn’t knitting”

“Language, momma’s boy.” Bitch ”Don’t be such a sourwolf, maybe you should try it all” she snickers ”Maybe it will help with the anger management. If not, you can always use the skill to lure young souls and devour them”

“Jesus fuck, Laura, that so wrong” he hisses

“Just joking, baby bro, we’re calling you to make sure you don’t forget about your anniversary”


“With Stiles.”


“How you manage to make simple words sound like a curse to hell will never cease to amuse and amaze me” She laughs but the line goes silent for a bit and Derek still has no idea what the hell is going on. It’s Cora that tries to explain.

“You and Stiles met on Wednesday exactly four years ago” she states, as if that makes any sense.

“What does that even mean, Cora? I am still asleep“ Lie ”and even I know it is impossible for the same date to fall on a the same weekday just four yea- ” their simultaneous groan cuts him off

“It’s not the date, dumbass, it’s the Wednesday” she dares to sound tired and that pisses him off “text him. For real this time, I know you didn’t after your birthday”

And they are gone

“What?” he whispers to his empty bedroom


After he gets home from the gym that evening he goes to dig around for the book he recently finished and find the crumpled note he placed(hid) in it for convenience (out of fear)

He types a quick


“Thank you for the present. Sorry if it comes too late”

and sends it without giving himself time to chicken out or consider that Stiles might have changed his number.
Not thirty seconds later his phone lights up with one two three messages and he’s scared that some total stranger is gonna get all creepy on him.

The first one


“Dude, no problems, owed you”

sounded Stiles-ish?

The second


“Didn’t do it only for that tho, waned u to hav them back. I researched the ones I broke I I gota say, tnx, dude. If it wanst 4 u I would’ve misd so much. Or maybe not. I get pretty carried away when I get to internet. probably”

he most likely hit his character limit even with the horrible mixture of English and vomit he was using. Definitely Stiles-ish.

The third (or second part two)


“Wouldve found dem on my own, but still I owe u so much” followed by lieu of excided emojis and smileys.



“Don’t call me dude. Everybody deserves to know the greats. You didn’t have to but I really appreciate it. Thank you”

Satan Incarnate:


“So cold, so cruel, good thing to see New York hasn’t turned in one of those dreadful and scary nice people.”



“Goodnight, Stiles”

Satan Incarnate:

“Goodnight, Der”


On a cold January morning Derek types


“Happy Birthday, Stiles”

while waiting for his train.

He doesn’t expect a reply since a look at his watch tells him its not even five in the morning back in California, so he almost drops his phone when it pings a minute later

Satan Incarnate:

7: 55
“Oh my God, dude!! TNX so much!!!!”

An involuntary smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.


“I send you a present.”

Satan Incarnate





but his phone has long gone in his pocket.

On the Wednesday Stiles receives his present, they have their fist phone call.

“Derek, are you insane?” Stiles sounds so air headed and so small something tugs at Derek’s heart.

“I really don’t know anymore”

“Dude, that edition of Spiderman is pretty much extinct. Like-it exists only in my wet dreams- kind of rare”

“Don’t call me dude.”

“Oh shut up, jerk!”

“Is that what I deserve now? Not even thanks?”


And then a quiet.

“Thank you, Derek”

“No need, Stiles” he doesn’t know what he’s smiling about “Have a lovely evening.”


Derek’s new manuscript is driving him up the wall and he hasn’t gotten more than three hours of sleep a night in more than a week. He’s drowning in coffee and energy drinks, his workouts pile on more stress than being the stress relief he’s used to, his family’s constant need to hear from him proves to be the tipping point when he shouts at both his sisters in the same day to leave him the fuck alone and go find a life.

He feels guilty as hell later and calls a chocolate delivery service in Sacramento to order something special for them.

For the effort he receives two text messages:


“Good one, but you’re still not off the hook, bitch”


”Oh, you’re so cute, Derek. At least the chocolate is expensive”

He should’ve sent chocolate to himself really. He deserves chocolate.

His phone lights up on Wednesday afternoon with a few messages form Stiles, of course.

He and Cora are out on their last high school summer vacation, they are about to become seniors, and Derek suspects the boy takes immeasurable pleasure in sending pictures of all the cool things he does and places he goes just for shits and giggles. He knows how much Derek hates spending the beginning of summer cooped up in his office, and Derek regrets ever complaining to him. Stiles does not deserve to have such personal information if he’s just gonna fuck with him

Satan Incarnate

“We visited a wolf sanctuary today and a young star made their debut”

Was the caption to the picture of a beautiful dark wolf standing tall on a rock

“Asked about the name and they told me they don’t have one yet, but they needed the exercise with the other wolves :( it looks so grumpy”

Another picture of the wolf, this time with the front camera, zoomed, catching just one of stiles’s crinkled in laughter eyes and the wolf standing behind the fence looking entirely too unimpressed with the teen.

“So I became a parent and wanted to name my child Derek”


He’s just about to call stiles and forbid him from doing anything stupid when he gets another message.

Too late.

“Turned out he is a she-wolf, so Derek souned kind of wrong. Not that Im sexist or anything or believe in the whole Destiny in your name shit. Or that names are strictly male or female. having name such as mine has made me a lot more accep- ”

Character limit, again

“So, I got carried away again. Sorry, but tha-dam!!!!!”

“Derek, meet Derrica”

Underneath was a picture of stiles' hand holding the papers with the sleeping wolf in the background.

Derek is back on track, if not even a bit ahead of schedule, with his manuscript in less than three days.


Derek is twenty five and perfectly legal, thank you very much, perfectly allowed to be at the only real gay club in the tri-county area, celebrating turning in the last work on his Masters. He could’ve done the appropriate “getting himself shitfaced and fucked out” ritual in NY, but he felt it would feel too much like any such celebration in the last six years. So he packed a quick duffel bag in Monday afternoon and flew out to California for a week with his family before returning to his new life of a grown-up with a real degree and ever growing fanbase.

That’s how he found himself here on a Wednesday evening.

Not his point though.

So he was saying: He is getting drunk and flirting in a completely legal way.

You know what is not legal on the other hand?

The fucking twink dancing barely thirty feet away from him.

At this point he could recognize Stiles’ skinny, seventeen year old ass, long limbs and awkward buzz cut just about anywhere. He had a god damn radar when it comes to the kid and sometimes when he would feel the familiar prickling at the back of his neck, he would wish to end him, but not now.

Seeing as the boy is dancing with surprising ease and sensuality, between two guys.

One of them probably twice his weight, given as stiles was barely hundred pounds wet, that wasn’t that big, but still- the guy was shirtless and packing enough muscle to seem threatening next to the boy, and the other one was probably trice his age, shiny Rolex and pressed dark slacks in stark contrast to the torn jeans and shirts most other guys wore.

Derek sees red and without really thinking about it heads in their direction, pushing both guys away as he reaches them.
Shirtless McMuscles seems to get the hint and disappears in an instant, but the Sugar Daddy looks way too interested for Derek’s liking so he growls in his direction and pulls Stiles away from him and towards the bar exit. The kid tries to jerk his arm out of Derek’s grasp but that’s so not happening

“Hey, let me go” he keeps trashing as Derek exits the club and heads into to alley that runs around it

“Shut up”

“Dude, really, stop! My Dad is-”

“Don’t call me dude” he grumbles

“Wha? Derek?” he shoves the boy into the wall and gets a good look for the first time. Pale skin, blown irises, trembling fingers. Who knows what he’s on. Derek grabs his chin and forces him to look into his eyes.

“What did you take, Stiles?” The kid seems shocked at first and then angry

“What the fuck Derek? Who do you-”

“What, Siles? Fucking tell me what you took!” he’s almost shouting

“Nothing! For fucks sake! Nothing!” stiles definitely is shouting

“Stiles don’t lie to me.”

“What the hell do you take me for!? I didn’t take any-” Derek grips one of his hands and brings it up to his face

“Look at yourself! Are you going to keep lying or tell me what you took so I can take care of you” he’s running out of patience and that’s bad, but now stiles looks so scared. So scared and small and so young that Dereks heart kind of stops

“I- I- I didn’t, Derek, no-nothing” his voice is barely audible and the stuttering doesn’t really help.

“Do not lie to me, Stiles” it’s the first time Derek really raises his voice, the anger and fear coiling low in his gut.

“I would never lie to you” his big eyes are pleading and full of tears “Never.”

“Then how do yo-”

“The-the guy? The older one? He got me a soda, I said I don’t like alcohol and he offered to get me a soda”

“Did he give you an unopened bottle?” he is going to rip the guy apart

“N-no? It was in a glass – wait- he drugged me?” Stiles’ whole body is trembling now and if it wasn’t for Derek he would collapse.

“Probably, im calling Melissa and your dad and we’re going to the hospital”

“My dad? No! Derek, wait-” stiles tries to push him away but his limbs can barely lift themselves, let alone do something to the over two hundred pound mass of muscle Derek is.

“Stiles” he pauses and waits for the boy to look at him “Please.”

“Yeah, okay, okay” he takes a deep breath “Let’s do this”


Its Cora’s graduation day and the whole Hale clan is sitting in the audience, Derek included. They make an impressive mass- all dark hair, tan skin and blinding proud smiles. People keep staring and Derek hates it, but even he can’t help but cheer when his little sister finally gets up on the stage to receive her diploma.

A small grin tugs at her lips and she shoots the teachers a wicked wink and Derek can see half of them stiffen while the others look more relieved than Derek’s ever seen any teacher look.

She throws her arms around the principal and Natalie Martin almost faints but manages a weak smile that promptly turns into a frown when Cora shouts

“Goodbye, bitches! You will never get it as good as you did with me!” and runs down the steps.

Derek shoots his mother a look and she seems mostly amused and not at all shocked, so Cora probably won’t get in any serious trouble.

His whole being kind of ignores the rest of the affair, drowning out the noise and concentrating on a conversation with Laura and their cousin Lilian. That lasts until they reach the letter “S” and then his whole attention is back on the stage as principal Martin calls “Mister Mik- Mich-Mi- Mister Stilinski” and he sees Stiles flinging himself on the stage, tripping on the steps, the brightest smile on his face.

As he takes the piece of paper and turns towards the audience, wide eyes scanning and searching until they land on his father and he shoots him a quick thumbs up, Derek can feel his heart swell with pride for the boy. But his eyes move away from the Sheriff, continuing their search for something.

And then they are on Derek and a tiny private smile blooms on his face. Derek’s breath stops for a second and he can feel Laura’s elbow in his ribs but it doesn’t matter.

All that matters is the young, beautiful man, lighting up his day, leaning to the microphone to say

“Cheer for us people! I and my ten good men impregnated the bitch!”


The sheriff’s face is red and he looks ready to kill his son as Stiles runs towards the ten other students, Cora and Scott included, who got up when he opened his mouth, full body laughs wreaking him. But every single teacher looks more estatic than Derek thought possible, Harris is even wiping a single happy tear.


They are getting ready to leave the school when he finds himself skimming trough the mass of robe-clad ex-students. A voice from behind almost scares him to death.

“Stiles left” Its Cora and her friend (maybe with benefits?) Kira


“Stiles left to get diner with his dad and Scott and Mellissa, because she has a shift at the hospital” Kira clarifies.

“Why would I be looking for Stiles?”

They both give him incredulous looks and his sister scoffs

“You both are pathetic.”

“I have no idea what you are-”

“He’s going to NYU, you know?”

“What?” Cora gives a knowing smirk while Kira’s smile can only be described as condescending.

“He got a full ride to Stanford too, but he wants to go to NYU”

“If that’s what he wants then I don’t see how it’s any of your bussiness”

“He’s going there for you.” And then they both turn around and disappear in the mass of students and parents, leaving Derek breathless.

Is it frowned upon to get shitface drunk on a Wednesday?

Chapter Text


It’s the last week of summer before all the kids leave for college and all the yet childless Hales have gathered at their lake house, inviting friends and turning a supposed family reunion into full blown lake party in the middle of the week.

Derek spots a few beer kegs all around the pathetic excuse of a beach, a ridiculous amount of blow up toys strewn about the whole area and at least four jet skis in the water. There is an entire inflatable game park and Derek really needs to talk with his family about what “over the top” means. Laura and her boyfriend are the oldest ones in attendance but they make up for it by organizing a beer pong contest and making a tire swing on the tree closest to the water.

As he is busy snickering to his sister tangling her drunk ass once again in the rope and crying to Brian to save her, a voice startles him.

“Hey, Derek” he turns around and is met with Stiles’ bright goofy smile, his nose icovered in sunscreen and he has an absurd pink beach hat sitting atop his head, that Derek suspects belongs to none other than Lydia Martin, as she spies at them from her position under a big umbrella the same shade of pink.

“Hey” her grumbles

“Wanna come play water polo with us?”

“Sure, why not?”


The answer to that question proves to be “Because-stiles-is-a-sore-loser-who-can’t-lose

When Derek’s team wins for the third time in a row and Stiles declares that water polo is stupid and unfair, all of them laugh and find something else to do, no hard feelings. Apparently Stiles didn’t get the memo, because half an hour later, just as Derek is dozing under the sun, skin warm and dry, tanning without burning, he dumps what feels like an ice bucket on Derek’s back and runs away screaming and laughing like a mad man.

Derek gives chase, ready to end him, and when Sitles notices him he squeals and heads in the direction of the forest. But Derek is faster and soon he catches up to the boy, pushing him bodily into the trunk of an old tree. They are both panting and sweaty (Derek is wet, fucking ice cold wet, because of Stiles

He’s about to choke him when he pauses in his tracks.

Stiles is still laughing and screeching in his arms, unable to breathe properly. And he is gorgeous.

Derek has no idea what is going on but in the next moment his whole body is pressed against Stiles’ and they are kissing. Languid soft kisses and lazy lips, slowly brushing against each other. He wants more so his tongue tastes  tentatively and Stiles’ mouth opens with a low moan.

The moment is gone just as fast as it came and Derek pulls away, shocked and angry at himself, eyes wide (as if the universe hasn’t had enough fun with his poor heart)  so that he can see in  perfect HD quality how Stiles blindly chases his mouth. He blinks his eyes open and stares at Derek, all innocent sedated smiles and Derek is hit by the sudden realization that Stiles is innocent. He’s young and pure and Derek wants to dirty him so much it hurts. Wants to grab him and mark him so that everybody knows he is Derek’s. Only. Wants to have him writhing over him, or squirming under him, wants to swallow him whole and keep him from the world.

But Stiles is just a kid, barely out of high school and he has no idea of what goes trough Derek’s head, He has no idea what he’s consenting to, would never do it if he had, Derek is sure of that.

Derek is twenty fucking six years old, almost a decade older than the boy and he is not a cradle robber, no matter how much he wants to be. Oh how he wants.

Stiles is still smiling and looking at him with adoration and admiration that he doesn’t, can never, deserve, as if he is perfection incarnate.

So he does the only logical thing and runs away.

He can hear his sisters and Stiles and a few of their friends shouting his name but he doesn’t turn around until he gets to his car and drives away.

Tomorrow morning he’s packing his bags and hauling his assaulting ass back to New York, where he can proceed to avoid Stiles. It’s one of the biggest cities in the world, and their chance of bumping into each other is pretty much non-existent, even if Derek’s new apartment is suspiciously close to Washington Square Park. 


They never talk about what happend by the lake. His sisters never probe him and his friends seem perfectly content to avoid the subject. Their texing dwindles to one or two times a week, nothing like the long stupid conversations they used to have.


Its good. Its safe.


He almost never thinks of kissing Stiles stipud.


So, when two months later, he passes by his favourite cafe that’s closed at this time of the night to find a tired Stiles, sitting infront of it, open laptop on his knees and a bag full of flying papers, he feels confident enough in his self control talk to him.


He finds out that stiles has a project to finish for one of his clases, but his roommate keeps having loud sex, he has no friends in the city to run to and most cafes have denied him service since he cant afford to buy more than two coffees a night and takes up a whole table with his research/


"My place is just around the corner" Derek blurts unintentionally.




 "My place? I have a free coffee table and a perfectly good couch I can lend to a pathetic freshman" Stiles all but sobs in relief and that's how they find themselves on the floor of Derek’s living room, him sorting and putting everything in order even with Stiles insisting that he thrived in chaos, and Stiles aggressively typing on his laptop.


He falls asleep on the aforementioned couch just before sunrise and wakes up, covered with his sorry paper-thin excuse of a blanket, coffee waiting for him in the maker and no evidence of Stiles.




It doesn’t get trough Derek’s head how often Stiles stays over, until he gets a call from the Sheriff two weeks after New Yers. It’s not threatening call or anything, its not an intimidating speech or barked out orders. It’s a perfectly normal call that a father would make. To his son’s significant other.


Not to his son’s best friend’s older brother that lives in the same city and occasionally sees said son.


He’s calling to ask Derek to remind Stiles of an appointment at the hospital this Friday, since apparently Stiles’ phone is a blackhole today and all messages and texts are left unanswered. Derek wants to bitch about how he’s not, in fact, Stiles’ keeper and about how the boy is too old to have his dad and his- Derek-  taking care of his doctor’s appointments. But it’s the Sheriff and his son is all he’s got, so of course he will remind him, not reason to worry.

Its probably freaky Wednesday or all of the people in his life are plotting against him, judging by the fact that he receives two more calls, just like that one, before the day is even close to being over.

One is form Scott asking, pleading, “I’m fucking begging you, Derek, on my hand and knees” to make sure that stiles is working on his part of the “Foolproof awesome bomb-ass plan to make Alisson forget that jerk and love Scott all over again”

Derek is pretty sure there is a music number and firework show involved. And absolutely sure he wants nothing to do with any of it.

The other one is from Stiles’ new roommate. A snarky tall guy with cherub features, golden curls and big blue eyes, named Isaac for whom Derek feels unexplainable protectiveness.

He seems to like Derek more than Stiles and they talk on regular basis since Isaac moved in after Stiles’ first roommate got kicked out for a viral porn video or something to do with prostitution. Derek never cared enough to ask more, he hated the Mike or Mark or Matt or whatever.

 Isaac was much better, with a dry sense of humor and sarcastic streak that matched Stiles’ and most importantly- he never made Derek feel as if he would film Stiles while he sleeps.

He wants to warn Stiles that he’s going out with someone and has an early class tomorrow so Stiles won’t be able to get in if he forgets his keys at Dereks. Again.

He just has a lot of school work to do and Derek’s place is a lot more convenient than the loud dorms, or the overflowing library. That’s why he is always over there. Just for convenience.

But when Stiles bangs on the door and  barges in, holding two giant pizza boxes and nothing else, no laptop bag or backpack, nothing to indicate that he’s come over to study, Derek thinks he might be trying to fool himself first.

Stiles babbles about the new Marvel movie he wants to watch, while searching for plates and napkins. If Derek I could be honest with himself, he could maybe admit that Stiles is not searching, but simply taking everything he needs, knowing the layout by heart by now. He flings his body towards the home cinema system, landing gracelessly in a heap of long limbs and fluffy-socked feet, asking Derek if he’s still on for tonight’s movie.’

 And he looks so comfortable and so at home that Derek’s heart kind of hurts. He wants to tell him how much he wants him to stay and move all of his things in the spare bedroom, they could even turn it in a game room if he so much as breathes it, there is enough place for him to sleep in Derek’s bed, in Derek’s arms.

He wants to say that so much, but what comes of his mouth has nothing to do with what he wants and everything to do with what’s right.

“I think you should stop coming over so often”

Stiles looks over a confused frown on his still smiling face.


“You spend too much time here, Stiles” he huffs.

“No, I don’t”


“Where is this coming from?” Stiles is standing up and looking more and more as if he’s about to laugh

“You should spend more time at your dorm. With people your age. Make firends”

“I have friends”

“Find a hobby. A group activity. Something social”

Now he actually laughs

“Is that seriously coming from you?” he bites his lower lip and comes closer. Derek’s hands twitching in want to touch, to take and take and take, until they are one.

“I don’t need anymore friends Derek. I have enough of those” bodies almost touching, Stiles brings his hand up to cup Derek’s cheek “I want something more” Dereks breath catches in his throat and he can never be ready for Stiles’ next words “And I can’t find it anywhere outside of this apartment”

His simile is gentle and so unlike his usual loony one as he brings his face closer to Derek’s, one hand going to the back of his neck to bury itself in the soft strands of dark hair. His lips lightly brushing the corner of Derek’s own when he opens them to continue and makes the other realizes that there is no painless way out of this situation.

So Derek takes closes his eyes and does the exact opposite of what he wants.

He grips Stiles’ thin wrist and pulls it away from his neck, hardens the look on his face and steps back. Not too far, but the step is determined and sharp, all business and no play. He pins stiles’ confused gaze and with all the coldness he can muster right now says the one thing he has never truly thought

“I don’t want you here”

“Wait, wha-” The boy’s face is puzzled, open and ready for everything Derek has to give. But Derek has nothing good to offer, only angst and pain and too much darkness, where Stiles needs light and happiness

“I don’t want you in my space, in my apartment, in my home”

“Derek, but you-”

“I offered you a place to study. Once! I did not ask for a puppy to feed and play with and have distracting me from my life, taking away all the personal space and peace I have”

The sharp slap he feels has nothing on the look of pure betrayal on the boy’s face when it comes to how much Derek hurts form it.

In the next moment Stiles is scrambling to gather his stuff, shoving past Derek and mumbling his apologies and promising it won’t happen again.



The next time Derek sees Stiles is just during Spring Break and in Beacon Hills, both of them doing an amazing job at avoiding each other in New York. 

He’s with his sisters and Laura’s fiancé, in the towns’ oldest diner, at nine in the morning, Laura insisting that Brian has to try Aunt Betty’s special Wednesday blueberry pie. Derek remembers being younger and having Cora drag him out of bed to take her to the Sheriff’s house and then drive both her and stiles to the diner for a pie and a milk shake.

Cora is telling a story about her latest photo shoot in South America and how much she wants to go back, Laura sitting on the other side, trying to shove a yet another type of pie down poor Brian’s throat, when the bells above the door ring and Cora’s eyes widen . He’s about to turn and look over Laura’s head to check what had such impact on Cora, but she grabs his face between her  hands and dives into another story about a squid with way too much excitement.

“Hey, guys” the familiar voice tells him all he never wanted to know, and he turns towards Stiles standing beside their table, sheepishly looking at them with a hand going over his brand new buzz cut.

Laura jumps excitedly on his neck and proceeds to crush him into to her chest, petting his ead, murming about ungrateful children forgetting their Jedi Masters, while Brian just shakes his head with a fond smile.

An unfamiliar laugh behind them interrupts the moment and a pale forearm snakes around Stiles’s waist.

“Not gonna introduce me?” the new person says, an annoying smile that looks more like a smirk on his too pretty face, Derek doubts he can smile any other way

“Oh yeah” stiles looks even more sheepishly at them, turning himself and the guy fully towards the table. “Babe, meet the Hales” he points them out one by one “Laura, Sith Lord” he laughs at her offended expression before winking “Brian, a future husband to the Sith lord” To which he gets a mock salute “Cora, best friend extraordinaire-”

“A person who can relive you of your balls, shall the need arise” she says, a sweet smile splattered on her face, and Stiles ignores the whole statement

“And Derek-” he pauses, looking over with uncertainty “Their brother. He-” he takes a shaky breath and smiles, all teeth and too stretched lips and so wrong “He helped me a lot”

Then he brings his arm behind the guy’s back and pulls him closer, pressing a fast kiss to his temple.

“Guys, I would like you to meet my boyfriend” he fist pumps the air ”The one who got on the Stilinski train of love. ” and turns slightly, his grin softer as he looks at the guy “Say hi to Theo”




Isaac spends close to two weeks blowing up Derek’s phone with pleads to help him with his major project on old American families. He, of course, told his professor that he knew a person whose family had settled in California during the Anza explorations and managed to last through the Mexican period, the annexation of California, the Gold Rush and everything in between and after.

The menace went as far as to call Laura and Talia to beg them to send as much copies of the official documents as possible, using his baby blues on Video chat and sniffing about how he wishes he had a family with such an extensive history “Or any family at all” another sniff “Mama Hale”

The bastard.


So Derek watches with the same fascination and horror a person watches a train-wreck, as Isaac waltzes into his apartment holding two boxes he got from the Hales chatting with Stiles.


They saw each other around Beacon Hills during the summer but they never actually spoke. Stiles hanging off of Theo’s arm and Derek spending most of the time at Peter’s new house, helping him rebuild classic cars.


It’s awkward, of course it is.


Stiles hasn’t been in the apartment since The Day and the realization is both perfect and painful. He hasn’t expected to ever have the boy back in his space and having him shuffle awkwardly in the doorway feels better than he could ever imagine.


Stiles brings his hand up to thread through his hair and a flash of something catches Derek’s attention. It’s a silver snake on a leather cuff wrapped around Stiles’ thin wrist, the same one Derek has seen Theo wear every time they’ve passed each other.


And just like that the magic is broken.


 Isaac continues to babble, pretending to not feel the tension, and dumps the boxes beside Derek’s couch and throwing himself on it. He smirks up at them “Time to work, lovebirds”



They spend the next week looking through all the excessive information Talia provided and Stiles is fucking ecstatic to be reading all the old pacts and peace declarations and what not the Hales have signed.

They never talk about The Day and Stiles never stays with Isaac to watch a movie, but he eats dinner, sometimes even help make it, without a fuss and Derek loves every minute of it. Isaac doesn’t comment about Stiles preferring to do his work on the kitchen counter or the window still, while he and Derek litter the coffee table and the three feet surrounding it with sheets of paper and photos.

It stops being awkward on week two when Isaac is sick and can’t come over, but the whole project is at Derek’s place and everything is connected so they can’t bring it to the dorms, so Stiles has to come alone in order to finish it on time.


Derek hears the knocks on the door and opens to find Stiles with a tentative smile, holding two steaming cups of coffee.


“I guess it’s you and me again, Robin”


And with just that one simple sentence Derek knows he can never have someone like Stiles, much less the boy himself.




If you ask Derek to make an exact recreation of the night he receives a call from a crying Isaac he could never do it.


 He remembers Isaac sobbed and clipped words about blood, and hurt, and locked door, and “Derek, Please, please, come, he won’t open”


He remembers running out at 3AM in his pajama bottoms and leather jacket, climbing into his car and breaking every law possible in the 20 minutes it takes him to reach the rooms, because Manhattan traffic is terrible even in the middle of the night.


He remembers banging on the door almost falling as it is opened by an frantic looking Isaac, who grabs him by the lapels of his jacked and pushes him towards the bathroom, mumbling about Theo, and bastard and how he is going to fucking pay.


And he remember breaking down the door                                  .


The last thing he remembers clear as day and that shall remain forever burned into his eyes is the image of Stiles in the bathroom mirror, bruised and a bloody, bright brown eyes looking back into Derek’s soul. He smiles a bitter smile and spits a bit of blood

“You should see the other guy”


Derek has no memory of what happened after that, but he woke up with a warm Stiles in his arms, half lying on top of him and face buried in his neck.


“Could you tell me what the fuck happened?”


“Stiles” Isaac whines  at the same time as Derek says


"We broke up" And he turns around to pour another cup of coffee, but Derek’s hand on his shoulder stops him

"That doesn’t explain why you are black and blue” he growls

"Don’t go overboard” Stiles gives a weak smile “I’ve done worse to myself without anybody's help"

"its not funny, stiles” Isaac interjects “That’s domestic abuse"

One look at the boy’s pale face proves what Derek feared. Last night probably brought memories of Isaac’s own experience with the subject. His fingers are clutched tightly in his water bottle- a clear sign he won’t have difficulties staying awake for at least three days.

"Isaac” stiles sighs, moving to wrap his arms around the other’s broad shoulders “I already went to the police and I will be rising charges” Isaac looks up at him with big blue eyes “he won’t hurt anybody ever again"

The child like sob Isaac lets out and as he meets Stiles’ eyes over his blond curls, he knows he will fucking kill the guy if he steps less than a hundred feet from any of them."


On the morning of Halloween Derek opens his door to find a black package with ridiculous glittery pumpkin stickers all over it. On top lays a single white rose, because Stiles is cliché like that, Derek thinks with a fond smile.

He picks the whole ordeal and brings it to the kitchen to pour himself a coffee. He opens awful card that has a pumping asking a skeleton the question “Why Do Skeletons Go To Family Reunions?”

He regrets every life decision he ever made after reading the answer on the inside, written in Stiles’ stupidly beautiful hand writing


To Look for Flesh and Blood.


He throws the abomination in the general direction of his living room, swearing to never again in his life touch it.

Derek turns to the black package and starts tearing at it, almost missing another card that falls from it, but is saved by the counter top it falls on. He picks it up and straightens his glasses, taking in the lines on the simple white paper


“Through the eyes an' I sparkle
Senses growing keen
Taste your love along the way
See your feathers preen
Kind of makes makes me feel sometimes
Didn't have to grow
We are eagles of one nest
The nest is in our soul”


Thank you for everything


He looks down, already knowing what he will find hidden in the black paper. Its another album he used to have, another one Stiles destroyed.

Derek plays both albums he got from stiles, back to back, for the next week, almost never letting go of his laptop and his new book.




He gets a call from Isaac on Wednesday afternoon about going to celebrate their grade on the project. It was their last important class of the week and they are ready to get drunk even if it’s the middle of the goddamn week, come on Derek.

He stands in front of their door, regretting agreeing to meet here and not at a bar or something, but he remembers that both of them are barely twenty and cant get in a fucking bar.

Twenty fucking years old.

Derek is almost thirty.


What the fuck is he doing here?


He knows with Isaac it’s about taking care of a younger brother. It’s about providing help and support to someone he cares for, who had a fucked up childhood and needs to feel that humans can be kind and not hurt you.


With Stiles..


It’s not that.


With Stiles it’s about making him laugh, and having him trust him, and having inside jokes, and the boy falling asleep around Derek. It’s about feeling whole only when the boy is around him.

He cares for Stiles no less than he does for Isaac, but it’s entirely different.

He needs him in order to breathe, in order to think, but he can’t have him for Derek is too much of “not good enough” and too little of “the right one” for Stiles. He know he is, no matter what the boy’s sparkling eyes suggest at as he opens the door with a bright smile.


“Come in” the uncertain look in his face should rise the red flags in Derek’s mind but as it happens every time he gets a new dose of Stiles after a period of abstinence, his brain stops functioning, caught up in the pure happiness Stiles is.


He expects to find Isaac sprawled out on the tiny love seat, nursing a bottle of bear or shoveling chips in his mouth, but the living room is empty safe for two glasses of wine  and a plate of pizza bites, Derek knows Stiles loves.

“Where is Isaac?” He can’t be alone with Stiles, he has become weaker and weaker to the boy’s energy.

“oh, he, um, he’s out?”

Derek grins.

“Are you asking me?”

“No,no! He’s out with-” He starts biting at his bottom red, plumb, wide lip and Stiles don’t do this, please “With Erica” and he looks up at Derek from under dark lashes

“Erica? My Erica?” the cute frown on Stiles’ face should not be as endearing “Are they-” and he makes a weird gesture he hopes translates as something.

“Oh, no, God, no!” the pure horror on Stiles face makes Derek laugh and he turns to sit on the old couch, surprised when Stiles tucks himself beside him instead of claiming the love seat he and Isaac always fight about when Derek comes over.


He is a warm presence, a long line of lean muscle and way too fancy clothes for a night in, where he is pressed against Derek shoulder to knee. His voice is soft and light as they talk about nothing and everything and soon they find themselves reclined further in the soft worn out couch, laughing at Cora’s antics an her newest YouTube video


Stiles pauses the video and sits up a bit, taking Derek’s attention


“Derek I need to-” he licks his lips, cheeks flushed from the wine and hair a mess, the picture of perfection if Derek’s ever seen one. “I know we never talked about this but” another pause, another lick and, fuck, a bite at those poor lips. Derek wants to soothe the bright red with his tongue and then make them just as red with his own mouth once again.

Then Stiles brings one of his hands to press against Derek’s neck, he moves closer to press his lips firmly on top of Derek’s and Derek's brain short-circuits.

Stiles’ lips are warm and slightly wet from all the biting and licking, but they feel so fucking right. It looks like he is about to move away until he feels Derek’s own hand on the back of his head.

In the next moment they are kissing like crazy. Tongues slipping against each other, gentle but demanding, and it’s nothing like Derek’s ever experienced, and suddenly understand why people describe kissing as melting. His fingers grip Stiles’s hair, pulling and now he has a lapful of Stiles. He has never wanted anyone, anything with the same intensity. Ever. Stiles pushes him further into the cushions and climbs better, straddling his thighs. They kiss and moan into each others mouths and he puts his hand on the boy’s sharp hipbones.


All I want is you.

The weight of Stiles’ body on top of Derek’s is everything that matters.

Derek feels him—all of him—pressed against him, and he inhales- Stles’ shaving cream, his shampoo, and that extra scent that’s just … him.


The most delicious smell that could exist. Derek wants to breathe him, lick him, eat him, drink him.

His lips taste like honey. His face has the slightest bit of stubble and it rubs against Derek’s own soft beard.  He feels wonderful. His hands are everywhere, and it doesn’t matter that their mouth are already slotted togheter, they want to be closer closer closer.


His hands move to unbutton Stiles’ shirt, while Stiles’ own make quick work of Derek’s belt, that gets thrown somewhere behind him. He really cant bring himself to give any sort of a fuck right now as he has Stiles’ gorgeous naked chest in front of him

He latches onto his collarbones and sucks a dark bruise as Stiles writhes on his lap moaning a string of “Oh God”s and “Derek, yes”s and  “Please, please, more”s. Stiles incability to stay silent in any situation apparently translates to bed as well as he is all but giving a full out narration of what is happening.

But, of course, Stiles as not all bark and no bite.

A sharp pain in Derek’s own shoulder makes him let go of the nipple he had in his mouth and he feels his hands being pinned against the back of the couch as Stiles fucking grinds them together, hard cocks sliding against each other through layers of clothing and it’s the hottest fucking thing Derek’s ever experienced

Derek kisses Stiles back with a single-minded passion that leaves him breathless and writhing beneath the surprising weight of Stiles’ body

He kisses his way up Derek’s jaw, the stubble rasping against his tongue, and bites at the spot below Derek’s ear.


Derek gives a rasping growl and wrenches away from Stiles, throwing him on the couch and leaving him momentarily terrified that he’s done something wrong.


But Derek merely yanks off his shirt. Then he’s back, pressing their chests together, skin against skin, their sweat beginning to slick the way. Derek has a fine layer of dark hair on his chest and it crinkles as it slides against Stiles’ skin.


“Oh fuck, more, more, more” it’s a matra and a plea and a demand all at once


“Still your mouth,” Derek mutters nonsensically. “Gonna shut you up.”


“Yes, please,” this is probably the most agreeable Stiles has ever been in all the years they’ve know each other. 


It’s impossible not to want more, to reach for it when it’s being offered so sweetly.


“Baby.” Derek says, moves down his chest to lick teasingly at Stiles’ pink nipples, rolling the hardened nubs against his tongue and biting down gently until Stiles is crying out, offering himself for Derek.


 But then Derek pulls away and looks over at the long pale line of Stiles’s body. He bends down and Stiles squeaks as Derek grabs his ass and pulls him up and into his arms, forcing him to wrap his thighs around Dereks hips and hold onto his neck for dear life.


Derek starts walking in direction of the bedroom and, okay, maybe he is showing off, but nothing has ever felt as good as Stiles in his arms. He tries to be fast and careful but Stiles is not exactly helping him stay concentrated on the job at hand. They crash into the hallway wall, the collision with hard surface bringing their cocks together once again. They moand and Derek pushes Stiles into the wall holding him up as Stiles fights with one of his hands and the heels of his feet to push Derek’s jeans down, while he sucks on the soft skin of his neck and shoulders.

Derek reaches down between them one hand pulling Stiles’ zipper down, reaching into the slit of his boxers, and gripping his hardness.   

 “You’re so fucking beautiful.” Derek praises and pushes at stiles’ legs so that they are firmly placed on the ground, sliding down his body after that, kissing and licking at every inch of skin. He nips at the sharp hipbones and then he is pulling Stiles’s pants down and off, his boxers going along for the ride.

 Stiles’ grip on Derek’s hair is tight, painful, but he can’t loosen it, especially when Derek licks a slow stripe up the shaft, sucking the tip into his hot mouth. 

Stiles’ keeps his eyes firmly shut, body taut and pale thighs trembling as Derek starts a slick, dirty rhythm, taking Stiles’ length all the way into his mouth, feeling him at the back of his throat and swallowing around the head.

The way Stiles moans his name, the way he moves, nails scraping on the wall as Derek brings one of his hands to handle his balls and the other to squeeze his firm ass, it’s all to much for Derek’s brain to work.

He is lost in the sensation of finally having Stiles in his mouth, of being surrounded by him and only him.

He hears Stiles labored breathing and feels his whole body pull tight as he comes down Derek’s throat, a long mixture of a moan and a whimper escaping his lips. Derek stays put for a few more moments, making sure Stiles is done and settled, leaning on the wall and not him, as he makes his way up his body.

When they are once again face to face, he chuckles at Stiles’ confused expression and dopey smile. He is gorgeous, here, in his own apartment, leaning against a wall, perfectly naked and slightly sweaty, looking happy and sated, his eyes blown wide with amazement at what just happened.  

Derek leans down for one more kiss before he pushes the boy in the room and proceeds to have his wicked ways with him, pulling away a glint beside stiles’ head catches his eyes and as he concentrates he realizes it’s a picture of Stiles’ graduation

It’s him and Cora, hugging Kira and Scott, who hold up all of their high-school diplomas, all of them are laughing and making stupid faces, they are so young and carefree.


That makes Derek pause in his tracks, body growing cold even as stiles’ warm hands move over it.


Yes, they are young, so young.


That photo is not even two years old.’


Fuck. Fuck. FUCK


What the fuck did he just do?


How the fuck could he do this?


He rips himself from Stiles’ naked body and turns back to the living room to find his clothes and get the fuck away from him.


“Derek?” Stiles looks confused and amused for some fucking reason.”What are you doing?”


“Jacket. Need my jacket” His words are clipped and tight


“Hey, don’t worry” Stiles places his hand on his shoulder and for just a moment all the tension melts away, until “I have lube and condoms in my room”


Derek whips around, ripping Stiles’ hand from his shoulder and looks over at the boy with horror


“What the fuck, Stiles?” he all but shouts


“What?” Stiles wraps his arms loosely around his body, trying to shield himself from the predator he finally realized Derek is. From the fucking monster that just had sex with- no- that just abused him. That just forced itself on him.

“I’m going” and he turns, deciding a shirt and jeans are going to keep him warm enough in the November night.


“Derek, what” Stiles grips Derek’s shirtsleeve in his fingers “What are you doing?”


“Getting away from here”


“But why? We are-”


“Nothing, Stiles” Derek cuts him off


“Derek” his name is a quiet plea slipping out of Stiles’ red lips, fingers tightening.


“For fuck’s sake” Derek grabs his hand and removes it from his sleeve, pushing it towards Stiles’s chest.


“Derek, come on-”


“You’re just a fucking kid, Stiles!” he shouts, his own voice ringing in his ears “Just a fucking, stupid, naïve kid, that has no idea what life is or what he wants”


He pushes away from the boy an moves for the door, trying to ignore the sob that follows him.




Derek goes back to Beacon Hills for Thanksgiving and loving  how uncharacteristically hot it is even for Cali almost as much as hating it, because he knows he is going to have to get back to New York and freeze his ass off.

He has seen Stiles’ jeep around town and done everything in his power to avoid it.

That proved to be impossible in town as small as Beacon Hills though.

The one time they bumped into each other at the gas station in the hot afternoon, Derek on his way from Peter’s, covered in grease and sweat, full blown beard and dirty, transparently thin, white wife beater making it pretty obvious he spent the day buried in Peter’s cars.

He’s just about done when he catches a sight of Stiles stumbling out of the store, carrying a backpack and trying to shove some sort of junk food in. He has a goddamn lollipop between his lips and is wearing a thin black t-shirt under-

Derek’s leather jacket.

Derek looks around, trying to understand how he missed the jeep but its nowhere in sight. He brings his eyes back to Stiles the moment he decides to look up from the battle with his back pack and notices Derek staring.

He tries to seem okay as he gives a tight smile and a wave, before heading in the direction of a shiny black bike, parked close to the Camaro. He climbs on it, puts on the backpack and pulls on a helmet before revving the bike and driving off without giving Derek another look.

He spends the rest of his vacation with his nose buried in cars and the creation of his new book, trying to ignore Cora’s judgmental looks and Laura and Peter’s pitying ones.


He really should let go of Stiles.


It’s Time



Derek and Paige get home from their date pretty early.

It was a nice date, really, it was- good food, pleasant conversation, a few good laughs and refreshing walk in Central Park as the sun sets.

They both want to continue the evening at Derek’s place, even though it’s the middle of the week. There is no shoving into walls and loud panting into each other’s mouths in the elevator ride to the apartment, no longing stares or impatient groping.  Small smiles tugging at both their lips as they wait for the door to slide open, after which they walk out and head left, her walking half a step behind.

She patiently waits for him to unlock and then they find themselves in the kitchen, opening a bottle of good wine, continuing their pleasant conversation. He invites her to the couch and every fiber of his body screams as she sits on the Star wars blanket Sti- someone- left. He pulls her to his chest (He wants her body to be closer to his, it has nothing to do with the blanket) and kisses her. The kiss is slow and gentle and not bad at all, all warm lips and tentative touches, neither wet not dry. And Paige’s lips are soft and slightly sticky because of her lipgloss, small mouth and small curvy body so different next to his.

She’s warm and silky, her small hands moving to take of his shirt and it feels so good. It’s not push and pull and her body has none of the resistance of taunt hard muscles.  He can feel his fingers sinking into her soft tights and it’s all good.


  A loud banging interrupts the hot (not really) make out session.


Derek jerks away from Paige and goes for the door.


He never expected to be faced with a red and panting Stiles at his door on Wednesday evening.


He hasn’t seen the kid in three months and he looks even more gorgeous, hair longer, eyes wild and fiery. His thin shirt does little to hide the new-found fullness to his frame, broad shoulders and fucking perfect chest erratically rising and falling with every breath.


Both arms braced on the door frame, both forearms littered with – oh god- dark hair, straining against the wood and  he looks angry and furious and ready to kill. His lips are red and bitten almost bloody, hair disheveled as if he’s been running his big hands through it for hours.

He is perfect.

He is not his.


“Stiles wha-” he is cut off by Stiles shoving something in his chest.


“What the fuck is that, Derek?” and Derek looks down to see his latest novel.


“What do you mean?” he decides to play stupid, Stiles has no way of knowing for sure


“Your Character? Kyle? What the fuck, Derek?”


“I have no idea what you’re talking about” no way of knowing for sure, keep it up


“Derek, that’s me” fuck


“No, that’s a book character”


“Derek, don’t lie to me, the whole fucking book is a love confession to him” fucking fuck.


Derek tries to give a mocking laugh but it sounds more pathetic and teary to him.


“Stiles don’t be ridiculous, it’s just a book, fiction, nothing to do with real life” another laugh. It’s even worse.


Stiles comes closer and his eyes are pleading and Derek is going to break.

“Derek, tell me the truth, please, just tell me and we-”


“Derek? Is everything okay?” Its Paige standing in the living room doorframe in all her tousled glory, wearing a sweatshirt Derek vaguely remembers leaving on the couch this afternoon.


“Oh-Im sorry” the chocked sound of Stiles’ voice is like that bucket of ice cold water he felt on his back all those years ago and just one look in the younger’s direction is enough to break Derek’s heart

There are no tears in his eyes, they just look so flat and empty as he stares above Derek’s shoulder at Paige, that Derek is ready to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness.

“I am sorry.” He repeats. “I sh-I should go. Sorry, Derek ” He glances at him and them back to Paige “Please excuse me miss, I shouldn’t have interrupted your evening”


He turns around and all but runs to the stairs, probably unable to even imagine waiting for the elevator.


Derek faces the woman in his apartment and is just about to tell her how sorry he is that he can’t continue and how he needs rest, when he feels warm gentle arms around himself and a soft hand in his hair.


“That was him, wasn’t it?”


Derek wants to deny, to say he is just his baby sisters childhood friend, an acquaintance. What comes out though is a pathetic sob.

“Shh, its okay, honey” her hands are going through his hair and over his back and her smell is so nice, but all Derek can think about is how much he would tear his heart out and throw it to wolves if only it hadn’t just walked away from him.



His whole world crumbles when he stops by the cluster of police cars and fire engines and medics on the side of the road. There were four involved in the accident and nobody seems to know what the fuck happened. The only thing Derek has eyes for is the Sheriff’s police cruiser, lights flashings, where it is parked- all but slammed into the tangled mess what used to be a baby blue jeep.


 Derek barges into the emergency room, eyes frantic, looking everywhere and not fucking seeing him.

Where is he?


He grabs a nurse’s arms and shakes her, not hearing her explanations of how he is not a family member and he cant get to the patient in his current state. She seems calm but the way her eyes shift from his to the security standing by the door tells Derek she is not a long way from calling them.


“Derek?” he turns to find Melissa, Scott’s mum, looking at him and holding a chart with a patient’s information. He lets go of the nurse in his arms and stalks towards the only person he knows there, who might be able to help him.


“Where is he? How is he? Is he okay? Is he hurt? I saw the jeep. How is-”


“Breathe, Derek” she holds up her arms and motions for him as he takes a breath in and then lets it out.


After a few moments, and registering that she doesn’t look really worried or scared for her second son’s life, Derek is finally calm enough to just wait for her to point him in a direction.


“Good boy” she smiles and motions for him to follow her as she goes down a long row of beds and stops beside one surrounded by the sheet they use the separate patients “Don’t make him shout, please” and with that she is gone.


He would knock if there was a door, but there isn’t so he just slowly pulls the thin blue fabric away and steps closer to the bed where Stiles lays with one hand thrown over his eyes, the other sits in a cast beside him.


“Doc” his voice is hoarse and sleepy, but he sounds okay “If you’re not here to give dear old Stiles some of the good stuff, I’d like to get some sleep until my dad can get me”


“’m not the doctor” Derek mumbles and stiles gives a deep sigh, wincing as the movement pulls at his bruised ribs.




“Stiles, are you-”


“Get out” he grumbles


“What? Stiles I saw the jeep, I saw the other cars! What the hell happened-” he doesn’t get to finish


“that’s none of your concern” Stiles says “Get out”


“But, Stiles, I-”  he is shocked by how fast the boy is up and in his face, looking furious


“You? You what, Derek? ” he gives a bitter laugh “Oh, wait, I don’t give a fuck”


“Stiles, come on” He holds his hands up in surrender “You know I care about you and-”


Stiles pushes at his chest with his healthier hand


 “Bitch, you didn’t”


“Stiles please” he tries to continue


“No. Shut up and get out.” Stiles is staring daggers at him, looking so much like the kid trying to protect his friend from someone bad. Stiles hasn’t looked at him that way in almost ten years and it hurts.


“I mean it! You know i-”


“Fucking shut up!” he shouts and pushed once again “I know nothing! But one thing- this is not a fucking movie. This is not our fucking happy ending, okay?” his eyes are teary and Derek wants to hug him so much, but as he steps closer, he is met with stiles’ cold gaze.


“Stay away from me.” It’s a demand “Because this is not the main bad boy realizing his feeling for the nerd when said nerd is put in danger. It is not the “Im so sorry” and “Oh I fogive you”  scene with a kiss and a song, okay?” he looks at his feet then back up at Derek, eyes steely with determination ‘


“So, please, get out and never try to do this again, its too late” and he turns and lays back down on the bed, leaving Derek to drown in his own misery where Stiles is the oxygen.




He wakes up to a call from his new agent. He supposes its an emergency, because she hates talking to him unless it’s been in her schedule for at least two weeks, and she hates when it has to be a phone call even more, because Derek’s grumbles and clicks of tongue and puffs of air mean even less when she cant read his face. But since Lydia Martin is calling him at seven in the morning it has to be important.


“What?” he grunts


“Good morning to you too, sunshine” She sounds too damn awake, but Derek thinks, she probably already had a mornig run and a shower and did her perfect make up, fucking Lydia, ready to take over the world before he even gets his ass out of bed.


“What is it?”


“Have you seen twitter? Or facebook? Or any of your social media?”


“No, I was doing an awful thing, we, normal people, call sleeping. You should try it, even your operating system needs time to update from time to time”


“Funny.” Her voice is so dry it kind of hurts “Look at something and call me when you decide what to do”


And she hangs up.


Derek pulls up his twitter app and almost throws his phone against the wall as the fucking birds starts chirping. He lowers the volume and blinks at the screen, not knowing what to make of it.  Apparently he is trending. Or not exactly him, but the a hashtag




He sees what feels like millions of quotes of his latest book above pictures of him and Isaac, or Erica, or Lydia, there are even pictures with Cora, what the fuck? His sisters upload pictures with the #bestbro all the damn time, how could people do that? Even as a joke it’s disgusting.

But the one person he sees on good two thirds of the pictures is Stiles, there are even some form their time in New York, when Derek was just publishing his first hit, an author known only to his online fanbase.


Derek spends the rest of his morning looking through the tweets and posts and saving some of the photos on his phone.

He gets a few more calls from Lydia about how to handle it and his friends, asking what it’s all about. Erica is mad only at a few pictures of them on a morning run after a heavy night of clubbing where her blond curls are tied in a tight ponytail and she is wearing loose sweatshirt that belonged to Derek a long time ago.

Cora calls him and tells him to listen as she throws up and he can hear Kira laughing somewhere in the background.


He has no idea how he wants to handle a scandal like that, if it even is one. In true Derek Hale fashion he does the stupidest thing possible. He opens his twitter and publishes the blunt


“Glad to see most of you got it right #DerekHaleInLove”

Chapter Text


He should’ve know the whole twitter shit is going to come back and bite him in the ass.

He has no idea how or when, but he should’ve known it was going to happen.

He gets a big box in his mail two weeks later and almost trips over it when he realizes its stiles’ hand writing on it. Its filled with bubble wrap and in-between all the layers of it he finds album after album, all the ones that were lost in the box Stiles crushed in what feels like another life. On the bottom of it lays a note, with the painfully familiar scrawl.


Now we are even. If you ever cared for me, you will stop.



Derek cant stop dreaming of Stiles and his laugh and his stupid jokes.

He is always there- when he writes, when he works out, when he goes out.

So Derek does the only thing he thinks and gets shitfaced drunk on the night of Stiles’ twenty second birthday, going through the all the picture albums he has in his apartment, finding Stiles always standing somewhere close, a soft smile or a loony grin on his face.

He should call stiles and wish him happy birthday. Yes. Like a good friend he is going to call Stiles and wish him all the happiness in the world, tell him how good he is and how much he deserves everything he can ever wish for, how perfect and smart and beautiful and funny he is.

In a completely friendly manner.

He digs out his phone and finds the number, waiting for him to pick up



“Hey, uh, Happy birthday Stiles, I wish you good fortune and health, and, and-”

“Ha, got you, it’s a voice mail, but leave me a message and I will be right back”


Derek talks over Stiles’ greeting without realizing and just as the beep for recording sounds he goes


“And I love you”




He almost crashes into the Sheriff while trying to avoid his son, both of them sending their respective tubs of ice-cream flying. It’s the middle of the night, they’re standing in the shadows of the only non-stop in Beacon Hills, with just bought junk food, ready to hide in the darkness and eat it all.

Derek does this because there is no way he is going to get away with stuffing himself with junk food while going through all the Stiles photos on his phone and their message thread once again. He’s been doing the whole stress-eating after break up thing (he is so pathetic, he kind of wishes it was a real break-up) for weeks and he swore he won’t fall down that miserable pit while he is home for his mom’s birthday. That obviously didn’t go as planned. He saw the jeep this morning on his run and tripped while trying to hide in the bushes. His sisters are going to have a blast.

The Sheriff does it, Derek knows, because Stiles has been riding his ass for high-blood pressure and cholesterol and risk of diabetes for the last five years. The only ice-cream that gets through the Stilinski is that vegan, low-fat, high-fibre monstrosity Stiles found on some whack ass web-site. The man is in a superb shape, he could probably take down most guys from Derek’s gym and have them crying in a minute. Hell, he could probably outrun Derek himself, having the same lean body as his son.

So Derek is hiding from two 5’3, barely 110 pound, cruel girls, who love spending Saturday nights cuddled on the couch and watching Katherine Heigl movies and the Sheriff is hiding from his lanky, barely legal to drink son, who thinks the greatest person ever is a spandex wearing genetically altered super-soldier.

Oh the irony. Those three monsters would love it.


“Oh shit, Sheriff, Im sorry” he blurts and catches a sight of the Stilinski’s amused expression.

“Don’t worry, son, I was have no idea where to eat it regardless” he throws a stink eye at the bar across the street “Wanda is working for Stiles”


Derek gives an awkward laugh and without really giving himself time to back out motions in direction of his car.


“I know a place”


The sheriff blinks up at him, a wide grateful spreading his lips.




They spend the next two hours on the old play ground just on the edge of the preserve. Children stopped coming here beforeDerek was old enough to be left alone to climb the high jungle jims and fling himself on the swings with no belts or safety locks. They sit in a comfortable silence, passing the tubs of Ice-cream and the chips every five minutes of so.


“You know, son” The older man is looking at the sky, deep in thought “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way but-”


Oh fuck


“You and my son-”

“No no, Sheriff there is nothing between us” Derek interrupts and the man gives him an incredulous look “We’re friends, just friends”

“Boy, don’t lie to me”

“I am not!”


He is up and pacing in front of the Sheriff


“I wouldn’t- he- I couldn’t, I would never-”

“Derek, calm down, son” he puts a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him

“I know, I know its wrong, and he is so young and I could never-” he keeps babbling, unable to keep quiet in face of authority and especially with the almost exact copy of Stiles’ patient expression staring at him


“Derek, stop” he does


“Sheriff, I am sorry, I just love-” he cuts himself off before he can fuck up further.


“Hale, the only thing you have to be sorry is not realizing that my son is an adult who can make his own decisions” he pats him on the back “and I think he decided on you a long time ago”


“But that-”


“And since you are a masochist, obviously, you’ve made it harder on yourself by not realizing that”


“Sheriff, it’s not-” he tries again, but the man is already walking away


“He won’t make it easy but he is worth it”


Oh he knows.




The first thing registers next morning is text


Satan Incarnate:



“Hope you had fun luring innocent people to the dark side.

I can smell you and your evil ice-cream on him”


He wants to die




He’s been trying to talk to stiles for the past two months and nothing.

Yeah, the boy answers but its vague and all the more unsatisfying considering he knows how much they used to talk.

But Laura is coming over with her baby for the first time so he cant dwell on the mess of emotions his life has become. He cleans up and makes lunch, expecting them and of course being completely unprepared for the pure adoration he feels for the small bundle of dark hair and pink skin his sister places in his hands.

He coos at the baby, ignoring Laura’s snickers and Brian’s knowing smirk, his whole attention on the small spit bubbles his niece makes, and, he is sure, no other 4 month old can make bubbles as pretty as Kyla’s.


“Hey Der, come over here” Laura calls and he moves without lifting his eyes from his niece as his sister pushes him around. “Perfect!” she exclaims “now just hold still!” and he looks up only to be blinded by flash as she takes a picture and then makes a pathetic face, tears welling up “this is going on instagram”


Derek shakes his head and smiles at the Kyla, who seems fascinated by his beard. Let Laura be as weird as she can, he has more important things in his hands. They spend the whole day at his place and Derek feeds her, offers to change her diaper, an opportunity to which both parents latch, and even gets to take a small nap with her, careful not to crush her. Laura might be a weird person but she is an amazing mother that believes human contact better than any fancy parenting methods.




Derek should’ve known.

Fuck, he knows his sisters, he should’ve seen this.


Staring at him, from the screen of his phone, Instagram and tagged picture opened, is the image of Derek holding Kyla protectively against his chest, eyes wide and looking somewhere left of the camera so he managed to escape red eye. It’s a cute picture, warm and filled with cuteness What Derek sees though is the wall behind him.


It’s the picture wall in his apartment. And glaring at him from the screen are at least three framed photos, Stiles center front or alone. Derek knows it’s weird, but one of them is from his high school graduation and he looks wildly proud and happy, Derek loves that photo, another one is from Scotts birthday two years ago, Stiles sent it to him the night of- he is sitting on the hood of the jeep, Scott is on the roof and Cora and Kira are making the best impression of wings on the sides. Its ridiculous. The Third one is of both of them on Christmas morning in the hale house when Stiles was eighteen. He is looking at Derek and smiling, arm slung over his shoulder.


The Instagram photo is shared on Laura’s Facebook and Twitter and is probably on her fucking Pinterest.


He hates her.




…take your hand and…


Something pulls Derek out of his sleep and for the first few moments he can’t- for the life of him- pin point what the hell it is. For the first time since he moved back to Beacon Hills a month ago he was actually getting a good night’s sleep and something interrupted it.


mind the silver scree


He hopes to go back to the dream land but a noise won’t let him.


Dragging a hand over his face he makes a mental note to shave, his usual scruff a full blown beard now, and tries to concentrate on what he’s hearing. It’s not the woodland creatures living around his family’s house or the little beasts living in it (“Your nephews and nieces love you, Der, you should be nicer.” “I’m just preparing myself for when your part in their genetic makeup emerges, Mum”)


….have got no rhythm…


Still groggy with sleep he staggers out of his bed, tripping over the sheets tangled around his legs. Grunting he moves towards the door but realizes the noise is coming through his window and changes directions, a part of his brain trying to tell him something.


…Should've known better than to cheat a friend…


With every cautious step he takes, his mind clears and he recognizes what he’s hearing but


that. Is. Fucking. Impossible.


Leaping in his windows general direction he almost throws himself through it but manages to hold both of his hands out to steady his body on the frame. …waste the chance.. He looks out to the front yard and there it is.


The Source.


Its Stiles, standing up on his beat up jeep, a perfect copy of the one lost in the accident, both hands above his head and holding a boombox, that’s probably older than the kid himself.


And the worst of it all?


He is singing.


Full out screaming with the boombox, mauling the lyrics to Careless whisper and drowning out George Michael’s voice.


Should've known better than to cheat a friend

And waste the chance that I've been given

So I'm never gonna dance again

The way I danced with you

Time can never mend

The careless whispers of a good friend


He probably hasn’t seen Derek, his eyes tightly shut, from embarrassment or because of the force he was using to ‘perform’ nobody will ever know.


Derek whips around and runs out of his room with every intention to finally, after 10 long years, kill the Sheriffs only son. Fucking murder him.


One look at his bedside clock tells him its not even 6 am and there are children sleeping in the house.

And Cora.

Stiles knows better than to ever wake Cora. Its not that she ever sleeps in, but waking her up ends up bad for whoever encounters her the rest of the day, she’s brought people to tears and she’s been proud.

He is on a mission to rid the world of stiles so he has no idea how the next few moments of his life happened.

As he gets out of the house he notices Stiles is no longer on the jeep, but standing beside it, the boombox left on the hood, still singing.Running towards him, Derek is going to full body slam him and tear his throat out.

That’s what he is going to do. Really.

So when in the next moment his lips are on Stiles, both of them crashing in the jeep’s side, one of Derek’s hands on the back of Stiles’ head to prevent any damage (any more damage, obviously, he doesn’t wanna risk it getting worse), the other holding onto a skinny hip and pushing under his shirt, Dereks plan kind of crashes and burns. In the best way possible. For a moment the boy in his arms is completely still, body gone rigid, gorgeous eyes blown and wide and not even breathing, and then there are arms and legs flailing around and a soft moan as he wraps himself around Derek.

It’s instantly hot and messy, stiles’ lips greedily sucking on Derek’s while he couldn’t stop himself from pushing the boy into the cold metal of the jeep’s door. Feeling a need to breathe, Derek tried to pull away but stiles’ lips chased and he kissed him hard. Derek responded instantly, opening his mouth and tangling his tongue with stiles’. The kiss seemed to go on forever and by the end Derek had to physically tear himself away from the other. They were both breathing heavily.


“I thought you said this is not a movie” He got a short burst of shocked laugh in return

“Yeah but” he gives a small smile “I kind of like the idea of you being my happy ending” a wink “in every way”


Derek looks down at the leer playing at the younger’s lips and can't help but peck them.

It was a damn good Wednesday morning.




So they start by taking things slow- or at least trying to. The thing it - every little thing Stiles does drives Derek crazy, keeping him on edge for hours as they rub against one another while making out, like they are both in highschool and it makes Derek a bit light headed if he is honest. All Derek has to do is look at those plump lips and he’s hard. It’s rather embarrassing, he has less self control than he did as a teenager.


They go out on a date, one of many, to a new Italian restaurant, or maybe it was Chinese? Derek honestly had no idea since he spent the whole evening shifting in his chair, staring at Stiles’s mouth while he ate his pasta (stir-fry?) and talked about his day. Derek is pretty damn sure neirher Stiles nor any other sane person can be as affected as he is by the end of the whole thing, balls blue and aching, and he’s pretty sure his palms are bleeding from how hard he had to clench his car keys when Stales insisted on buying a popsicle from the stand in front of the restaurant, proceeding to lick the damn thing until its gone.


Well. Derek is so fucking happy he turns out to be wrong once again when Stiles makes him steer the car towards an almost unused dirt road and pulls him into a heated kiss. Their mouths are biting as much as kissing, Derek hears Stiles growl and it goes straight to his dick. Stiles puts his palm against the fabric over Derek’s dick and he jolts, kissing Stiles for only a second longer before he finally manages to stop.him.


“Baby, I don’t want to rush you” he whispers by Stiles’ neck and gets a sharp bite on the soft part of his ear.


“Derek” Stiles pulls away a bit and looks straight into his eyes “I am going to take your gorgeous cock out and make love to it until you come so hard down my throat you see fucking stars, okay?”


“Fuck. You can‘t just ask shit like that!”


“I am not asking you, babe” and then he goes down. He starts off slow, sucking only the already wet head gently. But Derek fucking whimpers and thrusts up, showing Stiles he loves it so he lets his tongue trace over the thick vein down the shaft, while one hand comes up to cup Derek’s heavy balls.

Derek’s fingers grip his hair, nails scratching against his scalp in a not altogether unpleasant way. Stiles moans around the cock in his mouth and the sound sends a wave of pleasure slamming through both of them. He’s getting pleasure from this.

Wanting to get his, he inhales before taking Derek all the way down, not stopping until the head of his cock hits the back of his throat.

“Fuck.” Derek moans, looking down to see an edge of a smirk on Stiles’ beautiful mouth where it’s wrapped around him. Derek’s hips cant forward, lift from the seat and he’s fucking Stiles’ mouth now in short, smooth strokes, forcing him to take inch after wet inch. In his jeans, Stiles’rock hard, cock pushing against his inseam demandingly as his mouth is filled. And he goes for broke; sinks down on the cock as far as he can go, bobbing his head up and down as he seals his mouth tightly over his boyfriend‘s flesh. The only warning he gets before Derek sprays down his throat is a choked moan.

Afterwards, after he’s gotten his breath back and his head is beginning to clear, Derek remembers how many times Stiles has made love eyes at his car, how prettily he had blushed once when Isaac made a joke about the Camaro being able to make any man come.

So he pulls his boyfriend out of the seat and bends him over the shiny black hood.

Stiles’ surprised squeak turning into a moan as he presses against his marvelous ass. He pulls his pants down and can’t help but admire the view of pale flesh against the dark sleek paint job. Stiles cries out when Derek pulls his ass cheeks apart licks long line from his balls to his lower back.

He keeps it up, long, hard licks until Stiles is a trmbling mess and thrusts his tongue into his puckered hole, licking and sucking at him like a man possessed. Stiles is a blubbering mess by the time Derek pulls back, he’s wet and open, his entrance clenching on air with want. Derek slides back up to suck on his neck, stubble rasping the sensitive skin.

“You’re mine.” The words are said against the back of his neck, hot and possessive as Derek presses his fingers slowly.

“Only yours” Stiles rasps out and that’s the last real sentence he makes for the next twenty minutes as Derek goes back to eating him out and fingering him until he comes with a shout, white stripes all over the black.


It’s insane and impulsive.




Derek and Stiles have been going steady for the past six months or so (six months, one week, 2 days and 4 hours since stiles woke the whole Hale house with his boom box, not that Derek is counting)

And everybody knows they are end game. Yes, they fight and shout, and refuse to pick up the phone, hiding in each other’s best friends love nests, but they always find their way back. Erica finds their antics amusing, while Boyd and Allison just sigh and go to make tea when one of them shows up the door with a bag of junk and a pitiful expression, Scott on the other hand, gets worried and starts mom hennig Stiles everytime it happens.


It’s happening once again.


Stiles started shouting after Derek suggested he park his car in the garage of Derek’s apartment complex, shouting about Derek being a fucking emotionless jerk and how can he talk like that about the jeep, he should know how important it is- completely missing what Derek means as always, but instead of explaining Derek screams back that just because he doesn’t want his boyfriend driving that death trap of a car, doesn’t mean he is emotionless.

Stiles turns around, ready to storm out when Derek catches his wrist and pushes him into the wall. They’ve been going to the gym together and Stiles has filled out a bit but Derek still has good twenty pounds of muscle on him.


“let go of me you- you-” Stiles pauses and an evil glint passes in his eyes ”You Shrek!”


“Really, Stiles?”


“What? Your ogre body is pressing me and I cant breathe. There is no oxygen getting to my brain” he tries to yank away but Derek’s thigh fits between his “No, no, no, that’s not fair” he whines


“Why, babe?” Derek mumbles while his tongue darts out to lick at the shell of Stiles’s ear “Is my ogre body distracting you?” he presses his thigh into Stiles’ crotch and hears him moan breathily.


“Shut up”


“Why, baby?”


“I am going to my beautiful car and leaving your sorry ass here” he tries to push at his chest but it’s pointless when Derek wants him to stay put.


“Babe” He straightens


“Don’t babe me, you jer-”


“When did you hear me say anything about throwing the car away” He lifts an eyebrow at the gob smacked look on stiles’ face trying his hardest to not laugh or freak out at what he is about to do.


“But you said leave it-” Stiles starts

“I said park” Derek sighs, letting go of his boyfriend towards the counter where two keys lay waiting. He picks them up an waves them in Stiles’ general direction, not looking up


“As in- park your car when you get home every evening?” he hurries through the sentence, hoping Stiles won’t make him repeat himself.


“What?” Of course. Derek finally looks up to find Stiles gaping and blinking at him

“Move in with me and we might finally have some progress in communication”

Stiles’ body slams into his and he feels kisses being pressed onto his cheeks, neck, temple and hair, Stiles laughing or crying, while mumbling “Oh, you stupid, beautiful, brilliant man” in a fake British accent.




Stiles walks into the apartament after a long day at work and he just wants to order pizza and cuddle on the couch with his boyfriend. They were moving things around and trying to navigate the space now that it’s filled with both of their belonging, then Derek had to go to New York and just came back two days ago. Two days which Stiles spend away from home, trying to finish a project. So it is the first work night he gets to come home to his boyfriend and act like a normal couple.

He didn’t expect to find Derek in the Kitchen, wearing a ridiculous apron, Stiles’ dad gave him, with an image a Sheriff badge star winking and saying “My food is so good it should be illegal”.


But there he is, pulling something from the oven and placing it on the counter beside a bowl of salad and what looks like mashed potatoes. Derek probably feels him staring because he turns around and smiles


“Welcome home, babe” Stiles is on him in a second, pressing him into the counter and pawing at his ass


“God, you’re ridiculously perfect” Derek chuckles and pushes at his chest


“Dinner first, its gonna get cold” Stiles whines and tries to use the puppy eyes that always work so good for Scott


“Later, babe” and Derek is out of his arms.




After they’ve had dinner and chatted a bit, Derek starts loading the dishwasher while Stiles goes to change into something more comfortable (Strips down to his boxers and pulls on a t-shirt)

He walks back to the kitchen, lingering in the doorway as Derek cleans up, staring adoringly at the older man and the way he seems to fit so perfectly, not a tense line in his shoulders and back. As soon as Derek presses the button on the machine, Stiles’ hands are on his hips, turning him around and pressing him into the cold granite once again.

“Impatient” Derek laughs, but the sound catches in his throat when Stiles slides to his knees, takes his soft cock out and stuffs in his mouth.

Derek can't believe how fact he grows hard, but, in all fairness, Stiles is pulling every trick in the book and judging by the smile on his stretched lips, he’s proud. Swallowing around the tip as he handles Derek’s heavy balls, running his tongue over the thick veins, sucking so hard on the underside Derek knows he will have a hickey tomorrow morning.

He's so close to coming. So close to falling apart, and he needs it. Needs it so much his entire body is aching with it.

"Babe, please. Please, please, please," he begs helplessly, and then grabs onto his hips and turns him around, bending him over the counter. Derek's forehead falls down against the countertop, his legs trembling, as Stiles pulls his cheeks apart, his hands gripping tightly.

His tongue is wet and hot as he licks a long stripe up between and Derek cries out at the pleasure it sparks inside of him, different than the one before, softer and yet sharper all at once.


"Oh fuck," he hisses, and yelps when he feels the graze of Stiles's teeth before he flattens his tongue over his hole, giving it a few small licks before he starts circling it with just the tip, and when it wiggles in, Derek knows he's not going to last much longer. He feels raw and tender, teetering on an edge, and he moans against the countertop.


"Stiles. I'm going to—to," he starts. And Stiles stops, draws back.



"Not quite yet," he says


"Please," he moans.


"Shhh," Stiles hushes and then he rubs his cheek against Derek's ass, stubble prickling the skin, making him whimper. He kisses a spot, then bites at it.


"Fuck," Derek spits out. "Just let me come."


He cranes his neck back and meets Stiles' lips in a sloppy, slightly awkward, and rubs his ass against his crotch.


"Fuck me," he demands, and Stiles snorts. He pushes Derek forward a little again, hand between his shoulder blades, and Derek puts his hands back onto the hard surface, dipping his head down. Stiles finishes working him open quickly, his fingers cold with the lube (he brought from the bedroom with exactly this plan in mind) before their body heat warms it up, twisting and curling inside of Derek, stretching him.

Derek is redy to pass out by the time Stiles lines himself up and he shudders, his moan coming out stuttered, as the younger sinks into him, not stopping until he's buried deep. Hands gripping Derek's hips, he fucks in, each thrust sharp and sure, Derek's hands slipping and sliding on the counter. Leaning over him, Stiles kisses under his ear, then bites at his jaw.


"So good," he murmurs, raspily. His thrusts slow down, turning into grinding that leaves Derek stuffed and full. Stiles buries one hand in Derek's hair, tugging, pulling his head back and making him gasp. He bites at his jaw again, then sucks at the same spot.


“Come, baby” he says Derek grips his cock, body limp over the counter. His movement is jerky, uncoordinated, as he starts stroking himself fast and a little desperately. But with Stiles rutting into him over and over, making quiet, breathless sounds, lips slipping over Derek's jaw, his neck, he knows it won't take much. He feels the pleasure built, spiraling higher and higher.


"Yeah, babe, so pretty, so hot. I love it so much, love, how perfect you are" Stiles always babbles when he gets close, so Derek clenches his muscles and moves faster. "So damn good, baby. Nothing's ever felt better than you, sweetheart."


"Stiles” Derek groans.


"Fuck," Stiles hisses. He pushes in, harder, once, twice and then bites down on Derek's shoulder, coming hot and sticky inside of him, and he shudders and moans through his own orgasm. They slump over the counter as Stiles presses lazy wet kisses on Derek’s back.


“The kitchen has been christened” he mumbles sleepily and Derek snorts, before pushing him towards the bathroom for a well deserved shower.




Stiles insisted on going with Derek to the gym around their third month together.


He’s always had a gym partner, first it was Laura or his team mates, then Erica and Boyd, and even Isaac in the last year before he moved away from New York, so he doesn’t mind the company.

The thing is, he’s always went with people who actually knew what they were doing or at least how to not hurt themselves, and his boyfriend is nothing if not resourceful when it comes to the last part. After listening to Stiles whine about pain and cruel equipment for two weeks Derek tells him he is banned from the gym unless he follows his instructions to a fault.

In the beginning Stiles insists that weights are evil and he’s better at cardio, having had to run away from people or dogs on more than one occasion as a teenager. He tries to glue himself to the treadmill and the stepper, but Derek is having none of it and soon, after following a routine and mostly strict diet (who cares if they eat a whole family pizza just the two of them, from time to time) he notices the difference and Derek catches him admiring his new body more than once.

So nowdays, almost a year later, they spend most of the time in the weights room, spotting for each other and staying in their disgusting bubble of happiness for the whole session.

Today, though, Stiles’ car is not in the parking lot when Derek gets to the gym and he’s just about to call him when he sees the text

Satan Incarnate



“Gonna be late, babe, won’t be long, but start without me”


He might be pouting all through changing into his clothes and his warm up but nobody has to know.

It’s the middle of the week and so the gym is pretty deserted, safe for a few guys that probably live there, and a group of soccer mums, so Derek starts with the simple exercises, opting to wait for Stiles for the heavier ones.

More than half an hour later and Stiles is nowhere in sight, Derek’s been done for about ten minutes and is restless to go and get his hands on a bar and start squatting, but he has no one to spot him and he can’t really afford to fuck up with the over three hundred pounds he plans on lifting.

A voice pulls him out of the wet day dream he has about the squatting rack and he turns to see a guy standing close by.


“Hey, I saw you sitting down” and now he’s embarrassed about lazing around, the guy obviously catching the look on his face and is fast to wave his hands around “Not judging, but I was just wondering if you could spot me?”

He points with his thumb towards the rack Derek was just drooling over “My brother bailed and I really wanna get this done”

Derek flashes him a smile and gets up to head to their destination, turning around to find the guy staring at his.. back? Or maybe the neon blue workout thighs Stiles got him for leg day.


“But you have to return the favor” he shoots and the guy another smiles. He’s goodlooking, younger than Derek and clean shaven, his eyes are kind of small but his wide pretty mouth and sharp jawline make up for it


“I’m Ethan by the way” he gives a wolfish grin and settles under the bar


“Derek” is his reply as he looks to Ethan’s face in the mirror in front of them.


The guy is not a slacker and he does his sets without whining about it, putting more weight after every set and joking around in the breaks between them.

Soon its Derek’s turn and they trade places, the guy putting a firm hand on Derek’s shoulder and thanking him.

As Derek unracks the bar he feels two things- he thinks Ethan is too close even for a squat spotter, but the guy said he does this with his brother, so maybe he has no idea he’s way too up Derek’s personal space. And he feels someone looking at him. He lifts eyes and meets a pair of fiery browns in the mirror. It’s Stiles and he is furious for some reason- cheeks red, chest heaving as he stares daggers at Ethan.

Ethan, whose junk Derek can feel pressing against his ass.

Oh hell no.

He racks the bar back up and turns around, stepping towards Stiles even as the younger man turns and heads for the old changing rooms they use only when there are too many people at the gym. Derek has no idea what to do.

They’ve never had problems with jealousy, mostly because they try to stay as far away from any situations that can lead up to that. Derek knows Stiles remembers Paige and Stiles definitely knows Derek remembers Theo fucking Raeken, even if they never talk about it.


“Stiles that wasn’t” his words die as he is slammed into the wall, hands pinned in one of Stiles’ above his head. It’s not often that he is faced with how much Stiles has grown up in the last two years. He is still far leaner but his hands are big and strong, he’s taller and Derek feels dwarfed as he looms over him.

Without waiting Stiles dives in, crushes their mouths together and just takes. He doesn’t know if it’s because of the guy or because he can’t not devour Derek but there’s a sense of urgency driving him. The older man makes a needy sound as Stiles sucks on his tongue and he can’t help but smile against his lips. Derek takes his chance pressing up as much as he can against Stiles, slanting his mouth to suck back. And he’s hard. Stiles can feel the proof of his want, heavy and hot against his thigh, so he rolls his hips to bring their erections into contact.


“Shit.” Derek gasps, tearing his mouth away to get out the curse. Stiles takes that as an invitation to kiss his neck, suck at his pulse point until he’s sure he’s left his mark.

Babe” Just hearing the endearment come out of Derek’s mouth is enough to spur him into action. He lets go of Derek’s hands and falls to his knees, pulling at the flimsy fabric of Derek’s bottoms. Electricity sparks through Derek as Stiles moves forward to press the wet tip of Derek’s dick against his smooth lips. His mouth parts immediately, his tongue snaking out to lick away salty precome

Fuck, baby.” Derek groans, brushing back chocolate strands to watch that spit slick mouth suck him down. Stiles moves back, Derek gasping as the cool air hits his cock, a thin line of precome connecting the tip to Stiles’ open mouth. The picture his boyfriend makes. He places his hands on Derek’s hips only turrn him around, face first into the wall. He straightens and plasters himself to Derek’s back, one of his hands moving to take a packet of lube from his shorts’ pocket.


"You’re mine, love” he says into Derek’s neck and he can’t help but moan


“Say it!” He buries his hands into Derek’s hard and yanks, biting at the taut lines of his neck

“Stiles, it’s-”

“Say it! You’re mine” he can feel the warm wet fingers circling his entrance.


“I’m yours” he breathes and then he has two fingers sliding inside, thick and perfect as they crook inside of his heat.


Stiles spreads them and soon adds a third, knowing Derek loves the burn, all the while biting and kissing at his neck and shoulders, rubbing his own clothed cock on the side of Derek’s ass. Derek is fucking close just from having Stiles finger him and says as much, whining at the loss of the fingers inside of him, the sound is cut short by the feel of the thick head of Stiles’ cock nudging at his entrance. Derek moans and pushes back, wanting it in in in.


He doesn’t realize he’s speaking out loud until Stiles chuckles and puts one hand on the back of his neck, the other on his hip and pushes in, all in one sweet long thrust, until he is balls deep and panting behind Derek.


“Such a perfect ass” Stiles moans “Taking me so good, babe”


He looks down and watches his hardness disappear and reappear between Dereks’s ass cheeks. The way Derek’s stretched around him, ridiculously gorgeous bubble butt bouncing with every hard thrust is so erotic, he groans at the sight, hand going down to touch where they are joint and slip the tip of his finger beside his cock


“Babe.” Derek whispers, pleadingly, nails scratching at the wall. “Can’t.” He pleads even as his orgasm builds.


Determined to see Derek break apart before he comes, Stiles fists his dick slowly, working the hard flesh in sync with his thrusts. Bracing his other hand against the wall, Stiles thrust up into Derek once, twice hitting his prostate dead on. He feels Derek come on his cock, body tight and he follows a few moments later, shushing his moan in Derek’s hair.


“I love you” he whispers and places a wet kiss on Derek’s sweaty temple. Derek turns a bit to the side and returns the kiss on a Stiles’ sweaty nose


“I love you”




Derek is going to throw up, he really fucking will.


He just got back from his mum’s house, and he’s an emotional wreck, starring at the simple white-gold ban, onyx stone in the middle, in his shaking hand.

He really did that.

He went and asked his mother for his dad’s ring.

She had always planned to give him his grandmothers ring when he met the girl he wanted to marry, but they both know its can only be Stiles. End even if they both agree that Stiles would appreciate the gesture and is certainly flamboyant enough to pull it of, Granny Hale’s gentle, flower shaped, rose-stoned ring won’t really fit who he truly is.

A door slam startles him and he jumps, ring flying out of his hand and rolling under the bed Fuck his life.

Baaabe” Stiles Sing Songs and Derek can hear his steps drawing closer to the bed room, so he throws himself on the floor and shoves his hand unter the bed, searching for the ring. He cant have Stiles find it while searching for his shoes. Ha has to make it special and memorable, perfect for Stiles. He feels something cold and round and wraps his fingers around it, just as Stiles enters the room and wolf whistles at the way Derek’s ass sticks up in the air, Derek closing his eyes at the sensation of Stiles’ hand on said ass, moaning in the back of his throat


“Come out, come out” stiles pinches his ass cheek and Dereks jumps up from uder the bed, holding the ring high up in his right hand.


Stiles’ eyes zero in on the small band and he looks from it to Derek with unspoken question


“Marry me?” Derek blurts




“Will you marry me, Mieczysław?”


Stiles has tears running down his face as he flings himself on Derek, hands wrapping around his neck, shouting “Yes, yes, God yes!” and pressing teary kisses all over


Derek. It’s not special but it is perfect.




It’s stupid and sappy and his sisters and friends will propbly never let him live it down if he ever tells them, but he can’t help it, really, he’s been rendered completely helpless by the creature he now gets to call his fiancé.

He gets home from a short business trip in the middle of the work week to find three of his neighbors parked before his front door, ears glued to the wood and looking mildly concerned and wildly curious. He hears a crash from the inside and hurries to check on what might have made the noise.


“Oh Derek, dear, thank God you are here”The cougar from the upper floor exclaims and tries to throw herself into his arms, fake distress all over her face. He takes a step to the side and narrowly misses her, going for the door again.


“We thought someone was attacking you, Derek” The grumpy college kid from down the hall clarifies




“We heard noises and screaming ” The'nice' old lady form the fucking first floor interjects, last time he checked the old hag claimed she could barely go from her bedroom to the bathroom, what she was doing in front of the last apartment on the eight floor in order to hear the noises would forever remain a mystery


“Did you call the police?” Stiles’ dad would flip out if he finds out their place was burgled and nobody tried to help.


“No?” all three answer in unison


Derek huffs and tries the door, finding it locked, and he doubts a burglar would lock it after getting in, so that leaves one alternative- Stiles.

He unlocks and gets in before one of his nosy neighbors gets their literal in, slamming the door in three stunned faces. He walks slowly, focusing on any noise and he hears a soft sobbing from the living room. He lets his bag fall to the floor and strides to find the source of the pitiful sound.

He finds Stiles in a tangled mess on the floor, surrounded by different sixed white boards, screws, nails, instruments and- is that blood?

“Babe?” he calls softly Stiles tries to get up, tangling himself further in some kind of s measuring tape and ends up back on the ground, hiccupping as he goes down.

“Are you okay?” Derek tries again

“I am worthless” Stiles turns onto his side, looking away from Derek and he steps closer, placing a hand on the younger’s shoulder

“No, you are not” Stiles gives him an exasperated look “What happened?” Stiles sighs and looks at the sad pile beside him

“I tried to build you a new bookshelf but I lost the instructions” he mumbles, hiding his face in the carpet.

Derek is sure he hasn’t felt stronger love in his life, couldn’t possibly imagine a feeling like that could exist. He brushes his knuckles over Stiles’ cheek, prompting him to look up.

“Good thing I came home then, I would’ve hated to leave my fiancé to fight with this monstrosity on his own” The smile he gets In return is better gift than anything.




Derek wants to state, first and foremost, that he is not a completely oblivious idiot, no matter what his sisters, friends and especially fiancé say.

Yes, he has had his moments, mostly when it came to Stiles but it’s only because the man renders his brain useless and turns him into a mushy mess of cuddles or horny rutting. He’s like a bitch In heat everytime Stiles as much as touches him for longer than ten seconds, a game of tag where Stiles used Derek as a human shield once resulted in them being banned from Jackson’s parties until they learned that people’s garages weren’t places for dirty blowjobs.


(they still haven’t learned)


So Derek knows that Stiles has always been fascinated by his tattoos, mentioning he wants some of his own ever since he was old enough to be allowed to make that decision for himself.

But he is still mildly surprised when Stiles walks into their bedroom and bangs the door closed on a Wednesday evening somewhere around their second anniversary.


“I Did something” he blurts




“Please. Don’t hate me.” Derek’s brain goess into over drive. What could Stiles have possibly done to make Derek hate him. A hundred wild thoughts start going through his mind but one seemed to stick more than the others.


Has Stiles cheated on him?


No, no, no, he would never. Even if he didn’t love Derek anymore, Stiles wasn’t a cheater.


“He was good, like really good. Barely felt any pain, although I’m a bit sore” Stiles continues.

Oh God, he’s going to kill the guy and then himself.


“Stiles, why did you-?”

“Well you never seem to regret doing” Wait what?


“Stiles what the fuck?” he shouts “I have never- I would never do that” Is that why Stiles had cheated? He believed Derek betrayed their relationship?

“Dude, you have like – seven tattoos, I’ve spend enough time licking them to know” Stiles looks at him as if he lost his mind or something. Which he probably did.

As realization dawns on him, image of Stiles’ pale beautiful skin marked by the ink is enough to stir something in his pants, eyes growing darker as he takes another long look at the other man

“Show me” he commands

“It’s still kind of red and-” Derek leans closer to Stiles, interrupting him, getting close to his face and watches the boy’s adam’s apple bob just slightly. Stiles’s breath slightly labored and Derek smirks. His boy knew he wasn’t joking around.

“Show me.”

Stiles leans back and grabs the bottom of his t-shirt, tugging up on it, Derek’s eyes following its movement, taking in the skin it revealed. Freckles dotted the pale skin of his chest, but no hair mapped the planes of his pecs. Instead he was faced with dark black ink, colorful shapes exploding out of the dark borders and curving around his ribs and disappearing in the direction of his back

Most of the tattoo resembled watercolor style, but the black reminded Derek of the tribal tattoo his mum had on her upper arm. Looking as if the colors have managed to escape their prison, searching for something. The artist was talented. Derek had to admit that.

Before he’d realized what was happening, his hand reached out. His fingers brushed across the contrasting colors on that pale canvas. The skin was only slightly raised, and warmer than usual. Fearing infection he turned to Stiles and found him bright eyed, red-cheeked and biting his bottom lip as if to hold something back. A flick of Derek’s thumb over a hard nipple helps him let out a long moan and he sags against the bedroom wall.


Derek had no idea what to do with himself. He always knew Stileswas amazing, but he was fucking perfect, oh my god.


“Are you mad?” a low voice pulled him out of his thoughts and there he was, his perfect, gorgeous fiancé looking doubtful.

Oh no, we can’t have that


“you’re riding me, don’t wanna hurt you” and Derek starts pulling him towards the bed


“Wha-” a hard kiss on his lips interrupts the question


“Wanna see how fucking beautiful you are, baby.” Derek bites at his shoulder and starts getting out of his clothes. Stiles gets on with the show and soon they are on the bed, kissing hard, biting at each others lips as Stiles grinds on Derek’s lap.

They're both hard. Stiles is leaking pre-cum onto Derek's abdomen and Derek is rutting lightly into the crack of Stiles' ass. Derek's hands wander again, this time coming to cup Stile's ass cheeks, spreading them. His cock catches on Stiles' hole and Stiles hisses in pleasure, pressing down harder and moaning in Derek’s mouth. Derek grabs for the lube on in the nightstand and pours a some over his fingers, fits in a one and then another, easily, and Derek remembers how hard they fucked just this morning. Stiles is rocking against Derek's fingers, searching for more. Derek doesn't disappoint. He curls his fingers just as he adds a third and this has Stiles howling.

"Fuck, Derek. Please." He moans into Derek's shoulder. Derek nods and lines his cock with Stiles' hole. His hands rest on Stiles' hips but he's not really the one in control. It’s Stiles as he grabs the base of his cock and eases down until his body connects with Derek's. He feels like it's too much and not enough at the same time.

Almost like the times they fucked after moving in together or the proposal. Derek can't even believe the tightness surrounding his cock. The silky smooth heat is almost enough to make him cum right then and there.

"God, Stiles. Tell me I can move." He monas desperately. Stiles responds by rising up and dropping back down onto Derek's cock. Derek grips Stiles' hip tighter, thrusting in all the way, barely pulling out before thrusting back in. Each thrust hits Stiles' prostate, leaving him keening. Every sensation was a little more than he was used to.

The build-up was unbearably slow and incredibly fast all at once. Without even realizing it, they are cumming, almost blacking out from the sensations. As soon as Stiles comes down he surges foreward and kisses Derek hard on the mouth.


“So you like it?” that earns him a slap on the ass and he lets out a surprised gasp “I thought good boys get prizes not spankings”

“Why do you always have to be such a brat?”

“You love it” Stiles smirks and leans for another kiss


I love you” Derek mumbles against his lips




Their wedding is on a Wednesday, of course.

The big dinner and celebration is planned for the weekend, though, so that all their friends from out of state, Derek’s editor, Stiles’ favorite professors from NYU, all the people a person would invite to a wedding can come and celebrate with them. They decide they want the official part to happen on Wednesday, they want to say “I do” to each other on a Wednesday, slip wedding bands on each other’s fingers on a Wednesday, sign their name on a piece of paper that will forever say they legally belong to each other on a Wednesday.

They want to go home as husbands on a Wednesday.

The most important people are in attendance, that’s all that matters for either of them and they’ve said so many times, but the Hale women, Lydia and of course Erica won’t let them utter the words “small” “quiet” or “private” in the same sentence as wedding. But they get that Derek and Stiles don’t want their wedding turned into just a wild party or a publicity stunt, they believe its something personal that should be witnessed only be the people who will be truly happy for them.

So they all compromise. Stiles and Derek get their private ceremony, with only their closest there, and the girls get the weekend long party that has their eyes sparkling for months.

And really, after Laura taught Kyla to twirl around and sing about the pretty, sparkly, big wedding and how much she loves beautiful weddings, it was game over for the couple. But Stiles is nothing if not petty so in retaliation he teaches the girl to sing some baby version of “Baby got back” Derek is sure he came up with on his own. It leaves no doubt about which song it is, but has none of the bad words, it’s kind of fascinating and fucking hilarious, especially considering he taught her to lead with “Look at what Mommy taught me” when performing in front of Brian.



The day of the ceremony Derek is standing in front of a full length mirror, straightening his tie and touching his smoothly shaven jaw every ten minutes. He looks good, he knows it, his mother’s and sisters’ tears leave no doubt about that, the same as Lydia’s approving, lingering nod and Erica’s wolf whistle, followed by an ass slap, a look at Boyd and a low “Sure you don’t want one last threesome before you tie the knot?

He laughs, because today really is the happiest day of his life.

His phone rings and he looks up at Isaac in the mirror, motioning for him to check it.


“It’s Stiles” he informs “

You think he got cold fit” he tries to make a joke, but something settles in his throat, making breathing harder

“Doubt it, but only one way to find out” Isaac answers and hands him the phone, exiting the ever shrinking room.


Derek takes a deep breath and picks up

“Hey babe” he chokes out

“I hate formal wear. ” Stiles blurts


“I hate formal wear, suits, pants, shirts, ties- I have a fucking waist coat on, Derek!” he says “I hate formal wear, with passion. It suffocates me, makes me feel confined and breathless”

“Okay?” he starts. He loves Stiles, all that matters is his happiness, and if he wants an out, Derek is going to give it to him “If you want to, we can always-”

“I don’t hate it now”

“Stiles, babe, there is no-” Derek tries again, lost at what is happening

“I don’t hate that suit, and it doesn’t make breathing harder” He chuckles “I love that suit and I don’t think I’ve ever taken such deep breaths” a pause “I love this, because it’s the suit I will be wearing when you make me the happiest man on earth and finally let me put a ring on it”


Derek gulps and lets the air he didn’t know he was holding


“I love you” he whispers, knowing Stiles will hear him “I'm lucky then, grumpus” his future husband chortles a bit and presses a loud smooch to the microphone “See you in a bit”

“See you in-” he looks at the clock “Twenty seven minutes, future Mister Hale”

“I will be the one in red, future Mister Stilinski” he giggles “Don’t miss me”





They agree to not be cliché and put gender roles on each other during the ceremony. There wont be bride, so why should they have one of them fill in the role?

They decide to each have their only parent walk them towards each other from both sides of the Hales backyard and meet at the simple alter, then the Sheriff and Talia will let go of their sons and Talia will wrap her hand around the Sheriff’s arm and they will walk to their seats in the middle where the aisle would’ve been. Erica takes her place behind Derek, a mirror image of Lydia behind Stiles, both of them looking like a million bucks.

There is nothing separating both parties since, truthfully, there is just one. No Stiles’ side and no Derek’s side. All the people seated behind them love both of them and are here to bear witness to what they’ve all known would happen for years.

Stiles looks into Derek’s eyes and smiles. He doesn’t worry that something might go wrong. All he can think about is that he’s going to get married to Derek in only a few moments and the thought makes his heart swell with joy. He’s going to get married to the person he’s been stupidly in love with for so long, the person that just knows him and gets him. All he can see is Derek’s face, the tender expression on his face and the tiny smile that’s just for him. And even though he’s not full on grinning like Stiles is, Stiles knows Derek’s just as happy in this moment.

Oh how happy he is. It is so perfect his heart hurts.

They recite their vows and hear a few sniffles from the front row, but they both have tears runnig down their cheeks, so they are not judging. Derek is so fucking gorgeous with that blinding smile of his that Stiles has to blink a few times to make sure he isn’t dreaming .

A motion behind Derek’s back catches his eye and he sees Erica grinning at him, too wide, all teeth. She pushes her tongue repeatedly into her cheek. And Stiles grins, giving her a wink, earning himself a questioning look from his future husband, Lydia chuckling at them.

He looks away from Derek for a second to run his eyes thorough the rows and Derek follows his example, taking in all the loving faces.

The Sheriff and his mother have sparkles in their eyes, Natalie Martin snuggled into Stilinski’s side and sniffling, beside her sits Scott with his newly broken leg, moving his hand over allison’s barely there bump, both of them smiling brightly and making kissy faces.

Laura and Cora are next to his mum, Kyla sitting on her father’s lap between the two, they all look so full of content. The officiant clears her throat, drawing attention back to her, before she asks for the rings. Kyla jumps up and comes running towards them, bringing the rings.

Derek’s grasp on Stiles is firm as he slides the ring onto his finger with lingering touches. Stiles runs the thumb of his left hand over the band, enjoying the feel of it. He gently pushes the other ring on Derek’s finger, stares at it for a little longer than strictly necessary, because that is his ring on Derek’s hand. It’s beautiful.


They’re married.


Neither of them waits for the cue to kiss, Stiles flining himself at Derek, who pushes his lips right back against his mouth and lets the giddy, warm feeling spread through his body. Little sparks ignite somewhere deep behind his heart.

“I love you,” Stiles breathlessly whispers without taking his lips from Derek’s, again and again. He feels the stretch of Derek’s mouth, smiling. Derek cups his cheek, drags his lips up Stiles’ face and kisses his forehead. Then he brings them to Stiles’ ear and murmurs, so that only Stiles can hear,

“I’m lucky.”




That night they lay in each other’s arms, in their own bed, in their own apartment, just touching and looking at the other. It’s a bit crazy if they let themselves think about it. Stiles has been part of Derek’s life for over thirteen years and yet, now, it all feels so new his brain cant really comprehend it.

Derek spend over twenty minutes counting every mole on Stiles’s face, kissing them over and over again until stiles giggled and pushed him away only to climb on top of him and kiss him breathless. The one part Derek still cant believe is that he gets to do this every night for the rest of his life, gets to kiss and lick every spot on his husband’s body over and over again, till he has them burned behind his eyelids.

“What are you thinking about, oh Husband, oh mine?” Stiles pushes a finger between his eyebrows and massages a bit


“Sap” he chuckles, but burries his face in Derek’s neck, kissing at the soft skin, naked body growing hot all over again.

“We did it” he says, voice filled with wonder at the thought that he gets to have this amazing person to himself for the rest of his life.

“Yes, babe, you’re tied down now, the ol’ ball and chain” Derek grins and pulls his husband into a heated kiss.


“You’re like a wish come true” he whispers


“I love you

Chapter Text


Derek had no idea where the thought came from. None. None so ever. The idea has no place, or time, of birth. It is completely new and unexplainable.

That's a lie of course.

It happened two months ago, when he came home to Laura and his cousin Luke’s brats running around his house, wreaking havoc, supposedly waiting for their parents to pick them up. Kyla and Luke’s three boys had turned the living room in a war zone, literally. There are to pillow fortresses on the opposite sides of the room, two children hiding in each, shouting at the others about loyalty or something.

“Hey, babe” he is startled by Stiles’ voice behind his back He turns and is met by the sight of his husband, wearing one of Derek’s old cotton shirts, puree all over it, soft looking hair in disarray.He’s smiling brightly at Derek, Laura’s one year old son, Brody, perched on his hip. The baby is babbling and pushing his chubby sticky fingers in Stiles’ hair, until the man grabs one hand and points at Derek.

Noticing his uncle he starts squealing and reaching out for him, struggling against Stiles.

“Look who has a favorite” Stiles mock pouts and puts the baby on the ground so he can walk on unsteady feet and into Derek’s arms.

As soon as he is firmly into his grasp, Derek lifts him up and twirls around, making faces and airplane sounds he knows his nephew loves. Brody is smiling and petting Derek’s cheek when he hugs him, explaining something in a very serious sounding baby language.

“Be careful not to hurt your back, old man” He turns to stiles, who places a wet kiss on his cheek and a firm slap on his ass.

“There are children here” Derek hisses and Stiles gives him the broadest grin

“Oh yeah, look at this” Stiles motions proudly to the mess in the living room

“At the debris of our living room?” Derek raises an eyebrow

“oh, come on, sourwolf” the other man whines “they have to know what it means to be loyal”


“Oh right!” Stiles jumps and scratches the back of his head, looking sheepishly at Derek “Check this out” he motions to the living room and shouts

The children come out of their respective fortresses and line up perfectly in front of the couple, hands behind their backs, proud heads raised to look straight to Stiles and Derek

Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am th-”

“you taught them the Night’s watch oath?” he whispers as to not interrupt them

“Dude, it was awesome!”




One night as he is laying in their bed, Stiles spread half way on top of him, staring at the TV and mumbling about ridiculous story lines, Derek just goes for broke. He hasn’t been able to chase the image of Stiles with a baby in his arms or smiling proudly at what he could teach the children for weeks.

Its a perfectly mundane Wednesday evening, following a day that could be considered even boring for them.

In the morning Derek sent Stiles off with a kiss and proceeded to clean up- there are still some unopened boxes from the move in- the new house having more rooms than they knew what to do with (Derek had an idea). He spoke once with his husband who needed to spit his venom at something before he murdered his new TA.

Then he had Laura drive him to stiles office around the time he finished work and both of them went grocery shopping, loading the jeep with a years worth of instant noodles, Stiles new obsession.

Normal, ordinary, nothing special.

So realy he has no idea what makes him say "I want children"

He feels Stiels whole body stiffen for a second before he moves away, not rising his head to meet Derek's eyes and turning onto his side, back to Derek.

What the fuck did he just do?

He cant just spring shit like that on Stiles and expect him to be okay with it!

Of course he has to fuck everything up once again!

Fuck, Stiles is barely twenty eigh!

Derek was older when they got together, he can't imagine having children added to the mess that was.

Now his husband is going to leave him and go live his life the way he is supposed to, not with a man almost ten years older, who alredy shackled him with marriage and now wants to suffocate him with children.

"Stiles, look, I'm sorry-" A hand slaps across his mouth and Derwk knows thats the end.

Stiles doesn't even want to listen to his excuses anymore.

He's had enough.

He feels something fall into his lap and he's ready to see divorce papers when he looks down (which, okay, after further reflection on the matter, he realizes was impossiple if Stiles had just decided to leave him. Judge him, hard)

He doesn't expect to see more than a dozen pamphlets from adoption agencies and two or three about surrogacy. He knows some of the names, he can’t say he hasn’t let his eyes linger from time to time, but this is so unexpected he really is at loss for words.

A though sneaks into his mind, amidst all haze and confusion- Stiles surprising him shouldn’t be a surprise after so many years.

He looks up at his husband to find him smiling softly, eyes sparkling in the dark room. He leans down to press a soft kiss against Derek's mouth and whispers

"I prefer adoption, but i wont say no to a little princess with your eyes" Derek tackles him on the bed and proceeds to kiss every inch of skin he finds, drowning in Stiles' laugh as he does so.




Derek is just about done writing one more chapter of his book, he’s ready be done for the day and go have a coffee on the porch and finally have a break. He can’t wait to take a sip of the magical, black, Columbian coffee they got from Lydia for Christmas, and recline in the soft patio day bed to soak up the last of the sunlight for the day.

Of course, that’s when a loud bang reminds him who he is married to.

Stiles opens the door of the home office with a loud smack, stumbling into the room, breathless and red. Before Derek has a time to ask, he waves his arms around to gesticulate towards the front door, while trying to take big gulps of air.

“Kid. Fast. Station. Now.” And he’s back out the door




The emergency turns out to be a small dark skinned boy, wearing clothes that have seen better days (probably ten years ago), looking around the room with big hazel eyes, filled with uncertainty. He looks around eight, Derek decides, has deep dark circles under his eyes, and his lips are dry so they tell one of the nicer officers to offer him a bottle of water

The sheriff looks up at them and sighs, knowing there is no way he will make his son let go of the matter.

“Stiles, you know I can’t show you the file of a minor”

“Sure you can’t, Daddy-O” he smiles and runs his hand over the thick, shiny, beautiful file his dad has on his desk “You will, though, let one of the best psychologists in the state look at it, wont you?”

Before any of them has time to react, he has grabbed the file, running towards the office he usually uses whenever he works on a case.

“I will handle it” Derek says to this father in law and follows behind Stiles, just as curious to find out what is going on.




It turns out the boy’s name is Tyler, and is –in fact- eleven, he is one of those children, so forgotten by the system, that they have to wait for hours before a social worker comes to take him to a home that can house him, grumbling all the while about underpayment and overworking.

The child looks so scared, Derek wants to punch the fat old guy in the face and break his nose.

“We have to do something” Stiles whispers

“What can we do, babe?” Derek really needs a suggestion “You read that file, his situation, it’s-”

“It’s workable” he has seen the look on Stiles’ face before, it’s pure determination and undefeatable stubbornness and Derek knows nothing is going to stop him.

“What are you boys thinking? I got just the basics from his file” the Sheriff stands beside them. Derek knows he has to be the voice of reason so he starts with the facts

“He can’t be adopted” that part is the easiest to handle “Mom is alive, dad dead, no other family members that can or are willing to take him in”

“His mother is in prison, Derek, how can you-”

“But she is alive, she hasn’t given up her parental rights. It’s the law”

“Derek, that doesn’t mean-” Stiles pushes

“Stiles, shut up and let him explain” the Sheriff interjects and Derek gives him a thankful smile

“As you know” he looks at both Stilinskis “Mom is in prison for armed robbery, which resulted in the death of a clerk, Tyler was in the car, waiting for her” he gulps “he was three” the Sheriff keeps a stoic face, but Stiles is obviously getting worked up over what he knows is next

“Dad had no idea he existed, but agreed to take him in. Unfortunately he had gotten married and had two children with his new wife”

“Why is that unfor-” the older man starts but his son interrupts him

“They shipped him off to some shithole town in Alabama, dad” he shouts “His new ‘mom’ told his story to everyone and made sure everybody knew to hate her husband’s ‘dark’ secret, the kids used to bully him daily”

Derek pulls him into his arms, running his hands over his back. His breathing is a bit hard so Derek decides to continue.

“The guy tried” he sighs “He was a good man, a good cop” he looks at the Sherriff, unaware if he knew that detail “He died on the job and his wife made sure they couldn’t dump the kid on her” he moves to sit with Stiles on the couch

“Then they send him back to his maternal grandmother, back in Cali and when she died two years ago, they started moving him from home to home” The Sheriff has already taken the file in his hands, reading through is as Derek talks.

He’s looking at a piece of paper on the table, moving to add it to the thick folder

“And my deputies picked him up while some of the other kids were trying to beat him up behind the school” he mumbles.

“It’s going to be hard” Derek won’t lie to Stiles, no matter how well he knows his husband hurts for that boy. He promised to be beside him trough better and worse, so that’s what he will do.

“But we are going to save him”




It takes them weeks of research before they come close to a solution, Derek watching as Stiles grows restless with everyday Tyler stays in that home the social worker shoved him into.

The case puts the first real strain to their marriage and they fall asleep apart more often than not, the only time they genuinely find a way to talk is if one of them makes a break on the case or they are surrounded by family. All the Hales have become invested, doing their hardest to help, but it still seems like a long shot.

“Stiles, if this doesn’t work-” Derek starts

“It will” Stiles is a ball of energy, moving around the house, getting ready for the court. He refuses to look back so Derek puts his hands on his shoulders and forces him

“Okay, babe” he tries again “But if it doens’t-”

“Ït will-”

“Shut up, Stiles, for once” he knows his voice is hard, but he needs his husband to listen “If it doesn’t” he pauses and looks into Stiles’ eyes “We will continue fighting, we will do everything, come up with different strategy, hire better lawyers- everything to get him to a safe home. Our home”

Stiles’ eyes are filled with tears as he buries his face into Derek’s neck, pressing soft kisses

“I love you so much” he hiccups and wraps his arms tighter around Derek




They get to take Tyler home a week later. And just like that their big new house, becomes that much more of a home.




The first time it happens is just after Tyler’s fourteenth birthday.

Derek and Stiles have talked about getting more kids for the past few months. Their son is doing good in school, has a few friends and takes to their friends and family like a duck to water. He’s wildly smart and unfairly (to the others in his class) talented in Stiles’ perfectly unbiased opinion. He’s come a long way from the scared kid they met three years ago, so they consider it’s safe to ask him if he would be okay if they bring another kid into the picture.

They’ve never hidden from him the fact they would like to help more children, but they’ve never met one they knew would fit into their family the same way as Tyler.

Until they met Alice.

They’ve had a few meetings with her already, to see if she would like them, if they would work together, to make her feel comfortable. Themselves too. Derek is kind of terrified of the prospect of raising a girl if he is honest with himself. He has been surrounded by the strongest females a man can have the joy of knowing his entire life, and the thought of failing to raise his daughter the right way…it keeps him up at night.

And even though he knows she is perfect, they both do, he gets cold feet everytime they go to meet her, but that’s especially true today, on Wednesday morning, as they have Tyler walking down the hall with them.

The three stop before a large window, looking out towards the yard where the children from the home are playing and Derek spies as a big smile spreads over Stiles’ face, when he locates Alice.

“Hey, Ty” he calls and leans down, still smiling, and points “There she is”

Stiles gives Derek a worried look and they turn to Tyler, trying to understand what he is thinking just by his facial expression, but the boy’s obviously been taking lessons from Boyd on how to keep his features schooled in perfect calm.

The only give they have are his slightly large, curious eyes and the way he tilts his head to the side as he takes her in.

“So? What do you think?” stiles prompts, unable to keep his excitement.

“I don’t know” Honest to a fault, as always “She doesn’t look cool”

Derek looks back at Alice and he should give it to Tyler. She really doesn’t look like the kind of person a fourteen year old boy would be interested in speaking to or interacting with.

She’s tiny for her age, but it’s mostly genes and not insufficient care as was the reason with Tyler, she is about to turn seven and her big brown eyes, blonde curls and smart mouth remind Derek so much of Erica he considered calling her to ask if she ever donated an egg or something.

He turns back to the two beside him and listens to their quiet conversation.

“Well, you didn’t think we were cool when we met either” Stiles laughs “And look at us now” he swings an arm around Tyler and pushes him to Derek, winking “Trios amigos!”

“Nah” Tyler shrugs “Derek was always cool” he says, keeping his eyes to the girl they all came to see today. Derek shoots Stiles a look, seeing the flash of pain over his features once again for the same reason.

He isn’t exactly jealous? Of Derek and Tyler’s relationship, but Derek knows he wishes they could be as close. It’s just that Tyler has always found it easier to bond with Derek, their personalities so much more similar, it made the transition smoother, so Stiles has never pushed.

Wanting to get the smile back on his husband’s face, Derek puts a hand on the boy’s shoulder and steers him towards the door, leading to the yard.

“Let’s go meet her, what do you say?” he gets just a slow nod and they both start walking, leaving Stiles to calm down and gather himself. They are just about to go out the door when Tyler turns back towards Stiles, giving him an exasperated look

“Dad, you comin’?” he calls.

Derek is pretty sure Stiles’ eyes are barely staying in their sockets as he gapes at them.




Turns out they needn’t have worried about Tyler and Alice getting along.

After the first few awkward minutes, both children slightly shy, but mostly curious about the other, they are chatting happily, doodling over some paper and ignoring the other two for all the world to see.

Suddenly Alice ducks under the table they are all sitting on, and comes up with a comically big school bag. She seems to have a hard time pulling it onto the table and Stiles helps, a dopey smile blooming onto his face as the action earns him a shy

“Thank you”. Alice sits back down, barricading herself with the big bag and looks up at the three men with determination. “This is my biggest treasure” she states, absolutely serious and Derek has to stifle a laugh.

“Okay, sweetie?” Stiles tilts his head to side, both him and Tyler peeking at the bag.

“So if I show it to you-” she pauses and bites at her bottom lip, pulling at a long blonde curl in one of her hands “It has to stay between us?”

“Of course it will” Derek promises and she looks to the other two to see their reactions. The nods she gets seem to please her, she gives them a triumphant smile and moves to open up her treasure chest.

She grabs the bottom of it and spills the contents all over the table. Derek watches as the expression on his husband’s face morphs into pure adoration and love for the tiny magical creature they managed to find all on their own.

The copies of Captain America, Spider-man, Iron man and whatever else littered all over the table just another proof that they’ve found their daughter.




Derek has never insisted on his children calling him Dad, or Daddy, or Papa, or anything of the sort, not that Stiles has, it just happened for him with Tyler, who still turned to Derek with.. well, Derek.

Alice kept calling them Mister Stiles and Mister Derek for the better part of a month, so when she upgraded them to simply Stiles and Derek they consider it a win.

Derek tries to not pay attention to the hollow feeling in his gut every time Tyler groans “Dad, no, please” at one of Stiles’ jokes.

So when he is woken up in the middle of the night by a small hand shaking him, he thinks the “Daddy, daddy, please wake up” is part of his dream.

He tries to pull away from the pressure on his cheek, but it follows and soon he feels the bed dip beside his chest. His lids weight a ton as he tries to lift them to find out what is going on.

But it takes all of his power to exit the calm peace of his dream land. He is met by a head of blonde curls and a pair of teary brown eyes.

“Hey, sweetheart” he reaches out to pull Alice closer to his chest “What’s wrong?”

“I-I- I had” she tries, hiccupping trough the simple words

“Did you have a nightmare, honey?” he puts a gentle hand in her hair beginning to play with the wild curls, as he feels her nod against him “You want to talk about it?”

Even as she franticly shakes her head, words start tumbling out of her mouth

“I was bad, I did something bad a-and you got mad and you"She pauses lifting her head to stare straight into his eyes and then throw a sneaky look at the still sleeping Stiles, gulping hard, she whispers ”You took me back”

And Derek’s heart shatters in a million pieces.

“Oh, baby” he almost chokes on a tear as he hides her face into his neck, breathing in the smell of her strawberry kids shampoo.

What have they done to make their girl believe they could just leave her?

Where had he gone wrong?

Stiles was always perfect with her, she adored him, so, of course, Derek had to fuck it all up and make her feel not loved enough.

How could he do that? What kind of a monster-

“Babe” Its Stiles sleep-heavy voice that interrupts the whirlwind of thoughts he has going through his head.


“I can hear your brain being dumb, make it stop” Stiles mumbles and moves one of his hands to rub Alice’s back.

She props herself up and looks at him before rolling onto her side and into the space between both of her parents.

“Honeypuff, don’t cry” he moves to nuzzle into her hair as Derek turns to lay on his front, throwing one thick arm over her.

“We love you and Tyler more than anything” Derek needs her to know, unknowing what else to add he seeks his husband’s eyes in the dark room finding them filled with sadness.

“You know how much Tyler means to us?” she nods “and you know you are both equally our children?”a slightly slower nod “and you’ve seen us fight with him?”at this she nods so fast it looks as if her neck would break and they both chuckle “Do you think we would ever leave him?”

Alice casts her eyes to Stiles and then Derek, giving them a slow but sure shake of her head. Stiles smiles and kisses her forehead locking eyes with Derek over her blonde curls.

“So stop thinking crazy thoughts, baby” Stiles whispers “You’re turning more and more into your Daddy, and you don’t want to be grumpy old man, do you?” at Derek’s offended grunt she giggles, hiding her face between her small hands.

“Grumpy daddy, sleep now, I’m better.” she says and presses a finger between his eyebrows.

“You did good.” She pulls Derek’s arm and hugs it tighter, snuggling further into his side and something in him breaks and comes back together, better, stronger.

He’s not just a man anymore, hasn’t been for a long time, but the realization is just settling into his chest- he’s a husband, he’s a father, he’s someone’s home and someone’s hero.

That makes him feel ten feet tall and happier than the day he finally let himself be in love with the gorgeous boy with the blue jeep.




After that night Derek starts recognizing the signs.

It’s in the way Tyler first shows his grades to Stiles, but always tells Derek first what he will need for practice- clothes, gear, pick up.

It’s in the way Alice searches for Derek when something scares her, but runs to Stiles when she hears a new issue of her comic’s just gotten out.

It’s all there and it always has been. Derek thinks heterosexual couples are the same, but they just never figure it out, contributing it to one child taking better to the mother while another does to the father. But in a same-sex marriage, with both of them being fathers, it becomes apparent that even though they are equal in everything, they can’t both be the equal amount of parent for both their children.

Derek is Tyler’s friend first and then his father, meantime Stiles is Tyler’s Dad.

And Stiles is Alice’s partner in crime first and then father, while Derek is her Daddy.

Sometimes, when Derek lets himself think on the matter, he is torn between feeling the need to be everything for both of them and the happiness of having these unique relationships with his children, so he never lingers, afraid that- as Stiles says- his dumb brain will break something perfect.

So with every cheerful “Daddy” he gets from Alice and excited “Derek, look at this” from Tyler, he just lets himself be happy, sinking into the ridiculous perfection he somehow managed to create with Stiles.




They are invited to their first thanksgiving at Cora’s new house when it happens.

The kids have been sick for the last week and this is the first time they’ve been out of the house so they’re torn between being happy about their freedom and grumpy about spending their first day with a ridiculous amount of family members.

Stiles grins after Alice threw her blue, balled up jacket, from the hallway where the playroom she had run off to with her cousins was. Derek her a disappointed look as he goes to pick it up.

“she’s getting to the age where he finds loopholes around what we say,” he sighs unimpressed.

“Oh, babe.” Stiles waves a dismissive hand towards his husband. “That’s just how children are.” Derek pouts as he hangs up their children’s winter coats and Stiles hugs him from behind, fingers latching around his body.

“Can they just never grow up?” Derek turns around in his arms after shutting the closet door and wraps his own back around. Looking up at him, Stiles raises an eyebrow.

“Then we’d never get our sex life back.” Derek chuckles and pushes his husband towards the living room, where the adults have gathered to gossip.

His mother and the Sheriff go on a search for Tyler and Alice, while Derek and Stiles sit on the places they vacated, chatting with the others.

Soon it’s time for dinner, that passes in idle talks and stupid jokes.

Derek really can’t believe how lucky he is as Stiles hides his face in Derek’s neck, laughing at a comeback Tyler threw at his cousin Lucas, while Alice snorted her juice out of her nose.

It’s a weird sensation, hanging low in his gut, warming him. Derek remembers groaning when his parents would whisper sweet nothings at each other at family dinner when he was young.

His locks eyes with his mother over the table and he realizes she is probably remembering something close to that as well, the expression on her face holding all the warmth and pain in the world, as she throws him a gentle smile.




Later, they are helping Cora clean up and handling the dishes when Talia clears her throat behind them.

“We heard back from the adoption agency,” She says cooly. Derek sucks in a breath, Stiles’ hold on a bowl tightening next to him, his own breath stopping . Talia’s friend Donna had been their lawyer since Tyler’s case, but for some reason, as brilliant as the woman was, her dynamic with the couple was way too intense for out of the court interaction, so all three of them had decided to appoint Talia as a mediator.

And since they decided to go for another adoption, they have had to use her pretty often.

Derek looks at his mother, looking for some sort of a hint about how their case is going. She is stone-faced; the perfect indication that maybe something had gone wrong with their application this time.

Maybe the agency didn’t deem them appropriate this time?

Maybe Samuel doesn’t want them?

Then, she grinned.

“Congratulations! You can parent for a third time!” The sound Stiles lets out is both heart breaking and endearing, tears welling up into his eyes, Derek wrapping his arms around him, looking at his mother’s smug face

“You nearly gave me a heartattack.”

“Well, with three children you might want to get used to the sensation, I should know” and she turns to leave them alone

Facing his husband, Stiles searches his face wanting Derek to connect their eyes. When he finally did, their gazes held for a split second before they dove for each others lips

“Derek” he sighs against the crook of his neck.


“I know.” Derek knows the smile in his voice is obvious and a grin breaks out on Stiles’ face, shock quickly turning into realization. They’re going to have another child together. A baby boy.




Less than two weeks later, they get to the home, the same way they’ve been doing for the past few months and see the chubby four year old running out to fling himself into their arms.

“Hey, Sammy” Stiles whispers into his spiky red hair, and his freckled cheeks spread in a wide smile, the hole left by his front missing teeth, displayed proudly.

“Do I get to call you dad already?” he asks, big green eyes looking up at Derek

“Yeah, buddy, if that’s what you want”

This time they get to take him home.




“Are you okay?” Stiles asks.

“I haven’t slept in three… four days…” Derek admits, rubbing at his tired eyes. He’d spent the last four days tossing and turning in bed or sitting in the backyard, looking over at the play ground they have for the children

“What’s on your mind?” Stiles pokes at his cheek, sitting down on the nearby seat and reaching out to take a hold of Derek’s hand.

“I’m worried sick,” Derek confessed. “I just… I can’t”

“Babe, where is this coming from?”

“She is going to be so little” Derek wondered aloud

“Yeah, babe, that’s the thing about babies” Stiles gives him a sad smile

“What if I hurt her? What if I drop her? Or step on her? Oh God! What if I forget her somewhere?” he gets up and starts pacing around, puling at his hair

“Derek, calm down” Stiles calls for him “You won’t. You will be perfect with her. The same way you are with all our children”

“But! But none of them was so small! You can’t know! She’s not even two!”

“Exactly my point! She is not a helpless piece of meat!” Stiles interjects, psushing himself into Derek’s personal space, taking his face in his hands

“Babe, look at me” Derek cant “Look at me” when he forces himself to meet his husband’s eyes he doesn’t expect to see them filled with adoration

“Dad?” a small voice called from the doorway. Stiles and Derek turned around, looking at the small girl stood just in the hallway, rubbing at her tired eyes with her fists. her hair was a tousled mess and her eyes were swollen and tired, the shouting going on had woken her up

“You okay, Alice?” Stiles asked. She nodded dragged her feet into the dining room, stumbling slightly as she made her way over to Derek’s side.

Derek instinctively reached out to pull her towards himself, sitting them both on the big fluffy couch, sinking into the cushions.

“Are you worried about Maria?” She whispers. Derek contemplates lying to her for a fraction of the second, it would be so much easier than the truth, but he knows in his heart that he would never be able to live it down. So he comes clean.

“Yeah, honey”

“But why?” she stares at him with her puppy browns, her other father sitting on her other side.

“Because she is little”

“So is Sammy” she has a point

“She is a girl” She gives him a weird look, a tiny frown appearing on her face

“Um, so am I? And I’m good” beside her, Stiles chuckles and Derek throws him a glare.

“But you were older, we had only Tyler, we were less busy-” a small hand slaps his mouth closed.

“Daddy, shut up and stop being stupid. You’re gonna be great”




And she was right. He is kind of amazing with Maria. So amazing that he insisted on buying an even bigger house, deeper in the forest, so that his youngest daughter can run freely with all the dogs they know they are going to have once the children start leaving them.




The first time they have to send one of the children off to college, Derek’s heart is full of pride, and a bit of sadness, and he knows Stiles feels the same as they help Tyler pack for MIT.

They’ve been talking about college for the past three years and their son has always insisted on staying close to home, until one of his teachers called to invite Derek and Stiles for a ‘talk.’

They had to spend more than an hour with the awfully bubbly science teacher Mr. Pears, dressed in a sunflower yellow dress and bright pink sneakers, her platinum blonde hair tied with sparkly vine, a flower crown sitting atop her head.

She’s a ball of energy as she explains again and again how much potential Tyler has and how MIT would be an amazing place for him. Derek is pretty sure she’s has a power point presentation ready and is ready to start it, when Stiles whispers in his ear “Didn’t know Luna Lovegood decided to take on the bright path in our education system”

Derek snorts a laugh and leans back to him “Personally, I think Snape would’ve had a better inspirational speech”

“Mmm, I don’t know, the get up is certainly very-” he pauses, looking at the kitten thighs she has on “motivating”

“I agree” Derek gives him a look “I believe yellow is, in fact Snape’s color, don’t you?”

At that Stiles outright laughs, prompting the teacher to look at them in expectation.

After they clarify that they supported any and every choice their son made and promise to talk to him about universities out of state.

Turns out Tyler is smarter than he believed, the full rides to MIT, NYU and Harvard prove it.




The Wednesday they have to drive Tyler to the airport for his orientation week, Derek is woken up by a quiet sobbing in the hallway. He goes to investigate, only to find Samuel curled by Tyler’s door.

“Hey, what’s wrong buddy?” He whispers, trying not to wake the others in the house Samuel moves to bury his face in Derek’s neck, clinging to his shirt and letting out a few sobs before taking big gulping breaths, trying to get the words out.

“We-we chased him away”

“What?” Derek tries to pull away and look into his eyes, but to boy all but glues himself.

“We came and now he wants to leave you” he cries.

“Oh, Sammy” He wraps his arms around his son, and lifts him up to go back to the master bedroom, careful as he passes by the girls’ room. He opens the door and lays him next to stiles and the boy lets go, only to burrow into his dad’s side.

“Tyler is not moving away because of you, buddy. He loves you”

“But we’re always making a mess and he always complains about noise” he blinks tearfully.

“That’s because he is a teenager, they complain about having to breathe” Stiles’s sleep heavy voice comes and Derek gives him a grateful smile

“But he-” There is a knock on the door, Tyler’s curly mop poking in. Samuel squeaks and dives under the blanket as his brother enters, followed by Alice.

“You seen my brother?” he asks, fake fear all over his face and voice “I seem to have lost him”

“Oh my!” Stiles gasps, playing along “What shall we do!?”

“How could I?” Tyler fake sobs “And I just wanted to spend some time with him”

“Too bad” Derek joins the fun “Seems like you would have to wait for your next vacation”

“Noo!” Samuel cries from underneath the blanket, fighting with it to get our, the others in the room trying to stifle their laughs when they see him emerge “I am here! I am here” he jumps on the bed, stumbling over towards his brother.

Tyler laughs finally and scoops the boy up into his arms, the younger pressing his face into his neck.

The door opens once again Maria steps in, chubby hand dragging her trusty teddy behind her, sliding slowly to stand by Alice and stare at the scene before her.

Stiles sits up and motions for the group to come closer “Come on guys, we’re gonna cuddle”

"Dad, don’t you think we’re too-” Tyler tries

“Na-ah, you’re all my babies and you will never be too old to snuggle with your dads”

“But dad-” “No “buts”, mister” Stiles frowns, opening his arms “bring it in.”




Jordan and Dylan hit them the same way Tyler did ten years ago.

A call form the- former- Sheriff in the middle of the work week about a pick up one of his old deputies made.

And then they are back at the station, Donna and Talia in tow. It takes them surprisingly small amount of persuasion and a few well placed threats from Donna and there he is.

A boy that looks at the same time nothing close to and all like Tyler did when they met him. He looks around the room, at the deputies and other people at the station, big eyes wild and sharp, sunken deep into dark circles, bruised arms clutching a small bundle to his chest.

Derek’s heart gives a painful throb into his chest as he realizes what is going on.

“Is that-” Stiles hesitatingly begins

“His baby brother. He tried to escape with him” The deputy says “he won’t let us take a look at him, just asked for food and diapers”

Derek stalks slowly in direction of the boy, stopping in his tracks when the boy’s dark eyes pinpoint him. He looks terrified that someone will take the baby away, so Derek raises both hands in the air and tries to make school his features

“Hey, Buddy” he starts, the boy tightening his hold and glaring “can I take a look at your brothe-”

“No!” the boy shouts and stands up, shuffling backwards away from Derek

“Okay, Okay”

“Hey, Jordan” Stiles appears by his side, his demeanor far from his everyday playfulness, he is in his professional mindset, an expert in his field. “I am Stiles” he gestures “And this is my husband Derek” he gives a smile “we’re here to help”

“NO! You want to take us back! Back to those people!”

“No, no, no.” Derek tries to pacify him “this is my mother, Talia, and Her lawyer friend, Donna” he moves to show the women standing further behind, both wearing gentle motherly expressions “they are here to make sure you get to a better place”

“How can they do that?” the boy asks suspiciously, while Talia grins.

“Oh, we have our ways, honey”




They manage to put the boys in a real good foster home for the duration of the trial.

It’s a lot of push and pull from then on, on both sides of the courtroom, the biggest problem coming from a homophobic judge, who all but states that letting a same sex couple adopt them would be a fate worse than the abusive home they were put into after Dylan was abandoned.

The boys’ story is one of the hardest things Derek has ever had to accept. Right up with all of his childrens’ suffering and pain.

Same mother, different fathers, both put into the same orphanage mere weeks after their birth, nobody wanting to adopt them because, as a douchey law student ,standing by their court room stated one morning, stated-“ Nobody would adopt an asian baby form the states! If they wanted one they would get it from China or something, it’s easier.”

Derek almost beat the guy.

Thankfully Donna finds a perfectly legal way for the guy to swallow his balls, figuratively speaking.




They visit Jordan and Dylan the day before the courts makes the final decision.

“Hey, Buddy” Stiles calls, when he sits beside Jordan on the couch “We need to talk” the boy visibly tenses and straightens up to look directly into Stiles’ eyes

“Take him.”

“What? Hey, Bud-”

“Take him with you, he will be better off with you” the boy sniffles

“hey, J” Derek moves closer, shushing Dylan in his arms“That’s not what we meant”

“No, I get it” he gets up, looking straight at Stiles as tears run down his cheeks “You feel guilty about separating us, but don’t worry”

“Jordan it’s not-”

“I am used to that! To living alone.” he shakes his hands, smiling through the tears “But he can have a normal life with you guys, he deserves-”

“Stop it!” Stiles is close to yelling, his own tears about to flow over “We want you! Both of you!”


“So don’t you dare ever think there is any possibility of us not wanting you” Derek says

“Yeah, Buddy” Stiles agrees “Even thought stupidity is a family trait” he looks pointedly at Derek “Please never exhibit it in situations like this”

“But people don’t want grown children! They want babies-”

“We want you!” stiles repeats “The last time I had to work so hard to convince someone I did in fact know that I want them, I married that person” he glares at his husband and Jordan looks royaly unconvinced. 

“So, J” Derek drops a hand on his shoulder “We just need you to want this as much as we do”

At that, Jordan smiles and wraps his arms around Stiles, Derek moves closer to wrap one of his own around him, holding Dylan with the other.




On Wednesday April 23, they return home with two more sons.




Stiles is not a worrier when it comes to their children.

He cares, of course, he just isn’t the type of over-bearing parent who thinks their kids do drugs or sacrifice small animals to Satan if they behave a bit out of the ordinary.

That’s usually Derek. S

tiles doesn’t worry or go crazy unless it’s something serious. Derek knows that, their families know that, their friends know that, the whole world knows that. It’s the worst kept secret (right after how gone Derek is for Stiles and his shenanigans).

So when Derek’s phone vibrates around a thousand times against his ear, while he talks with Alice’s teacher on a sunny Wednesday about her staying for extra practice, he figures something’s very wrong.

When he hangs up a minute later he finds eleven messages from his husband.

Eleven. In eight minutes.

Stiles is going to get arrested again.


Satan Incarnate:



Derek something very wrong is going down



Honey, I am seriously seeing something



DEREK! Its Alice, its important!






I am going to make you suffer, I swear, our girl is in danger



OMG! They r goung in! derk, omghes taking hre







Okay, now he is getting worried





Divorce threats? He hasn’t heard one of those in a while



Baby, my baby is in danger, please answer me plsplsplsplsplsplspls



I shall infiltrate the school.


Oh shit.

Derek can’t say they haven’t spend their fair share of time at the police station, most of it because of the Sheriff, but an admittedly considerable amount was also spend in one of the holding cells.Derek doesn’t know if he should be grateful or worried about his husband, while he climbs into his car, calling him.

The Sheriff retired a long time ago, enough for the current one to not care who Stiles’ father was, which means that Noah won’t be receiving any heart-attack inducing calls about his over forty year old son breaking into a school, but maybe Stiles won’t get away as easy as he used to.

On the forth ring, Stiles picks up

“What?” he whisper shouts into the phone

“What are you doing?”

I am on a mission, and you shall hear from my lawyer!

“Stiles! Youre going to get arrested! Again!” Derek grunts

Oh, just come to the locker room and help me, you sourpuss!”

“Stiles! Stiles don’t-” but the man has already hung up.




Oh for fucks sake!

Derek doesn’t know if he should be surprised when he finds his husband crouching beside the locker room door. He’s just about to grab him and run, when Stiles snatches him by his hand and starts pulling him outside.

They are hiding under the damn bleachers, Stiles bending to try and look through the cracks as Derek contemplates murdering him. They are adults, parents, what the fuck are they doing hiding under the bleachers like a horny teenagers sneaking away to make out?

Which. Is an entirely new image, that’s entirely too inappropriate.

By the time Stiles was old enough to make out under the bleachers, Derek was old enough to get and pay back a bank loan.

As if reading his mind Stiles turns around smirking.

“You know, getting handsy with a hot jock under here’s always been a fantasy of mine” he whispers, stepping closer to Derek, hand landing on his ass. Derek is way too old to get so excited over this, he knows, but he can’t help himself, its Stiles. They lean closer towards each other, breathing hard, he’s just about to kiss him when

“once, I brought Theo here and the guards-” noticing Derek’s glare he shuts his mouth, teeth clinking loudly “- sprayed us with cold water and I shall never speak of this” he grins at Derek, pecking his lips and turning back around.

Pointing at something, he beckons Derek closer, murmuring “Back to the mission, sweetcheeks” Derek moves to look at the field and notices Alice.

His daughter is laughing at something with her team mates, blonde hair tied in a low ponytail as to net get in the way of her lacrosse helmet.

Derek is going to ask Stiles once again what’s wrong with him, when he sees a mountain of a boy close in on Alice, her back to him, he’s motioning for the others to keep quiet.

Derek is not really worried about her to be honest, it’s a bright day, they are out in the open, there are coaches and teachers and other students all around them, the guy would be crazy to attack Alice, but more important than any of that is the fact that Derek knows his daughter.

If a guy tries to touch her in a way she doesn’t like, she will have him hanging by his balls, chocking on his own tongue. Laura and Erica made sure of that.

So yeah, he expects many things, but two versions seem most likely- the guy just booing behind her and scaring her, then being chased away with a stick, or the guy touching her and then getting beaten by the tiny blonde.

What he doesn’t expect though is for the boy to wrap his arms around her and lift her up, her laugh traveling across the field as she wraps her own arms around his neck, placing a chaste kiss on his lips.


Oh wow.

“See? SEE?? Do you see him!?” Stiles shouts and more than half the team turns towards them hiding in the shadows.

Derek claps a hand over his mouth, praying Alice didn’t recognize the voice of her ridiculous father, but he slaps him away

“We have to do something!” he tries to crawl from underneath the bleachers, but Derek manages to wrap him in his arms

“Stop being ridiculous, you old idiot!”

“We have to save her from that monster’s claws!”

“She has a boyfriend, chill out” Derek tightens his hold

“She is a child!” Stiles tries to turn around to glare at him, it’s getting absurd

“She is almost seventeen”

“Oh my god, you’re right!” he exclaims

“Thank God, babe, you were getting kinda crazy-”

“She is a fetus!” he shouts.Again.

“Don’t be-”

“Daddy?” Alice’s voice interrupts all too close to them

“Oh, shit.”

“Oh, fuck”




Derek and Stiles are kind of robot parents, Derek realizes it.

Some of the other parents (their own included) have taken to calling them The Smiths. They’ve tried to explain, time and time again, that they are not pretending to have it all together, that they know they could always ask for help, that ,yes, they can always depend on their parents or siblings, or friends to take care the children if they need some time off.

Derek has had to tell his mother “No, thank you, Mum” more time than humanly possible at this point, even the Sheriff, as busy as he is, has gotten his fair share of polite declines to his offers to watch the kids.

Its not that Derek and Stiles would ever deny contact with their families- they’ve made it perfectly clear that everybody is free to visit whenever they feel like it, no need to call or ask permission.

They just genuinely don’t need the help.

They handle the situation surprisingly fine most of the time. Their children are (almost) never late, they are always prepared, have some of the best grades and attendances in their respective schools, have their friends and interests, do all the school work they have to, some even play sports or have other extra curriculars, and most importantly- seem genuinely happy with their lives.

Derek can see its kind of ridiculous how good they all work.

Especially in the mornings, when any other family with 5 children still living in the house would be modern version of the Adams- screams and grumbling, spilled coffee, unfinished homework, fits over what’s for breakfast and fights over the bathrooms.

They- they are nothing like this.

Derek is always the first to wake up, most of the time before the sun is up, going down to start the coffee, where he is soon joined by Alice in her morning get up.

They go on a run in the preserve, earplugs in, no talking until they are on their way back, when its all joking and pushing around until one of them cries “Last one home does laundry this week” or something of the kind.

By the time they stumble in the house Stiles is already onto breakfast and whines, when both of them press sweaty kisses to his cheeks, shooing them to take showers. Jordan gives them the stink eye, and Derek makes a mental note to start asking him to come with them as he into the shower, the boy’s old enough, he can keep up.

Stumbling down the stairs he takes in the image- the three young ones have arranged themselves on the counter, doing an impressive job of helping Stiles prepare lunches for all of them.

The four of them are gathered with Stiles cutting up the vegetables and cheese, Samuel spreading PB&J or homemade mayo on slices of bread, passing them onto Dylan to assemble and then hand to Maria who puts everything in each assigned lunch box.

By the look stiles throws him, Derek suspects he has a dumb ass smile plastered all over his face as he watches his perfect, not so little, family prêt about the kitchen.

Alice comes down and beckons Derek to bring the breakfast to the table, while Jordan starts loading schoolbags and projects or costumes or training gear- depending on the day- into the cars.

In twenty minutes they are all done with breakfast and ready to go, so Derek pecks each of the children on the head, giving a soft smile as Alice presses one right back, a laugh when Samuel tries to push him away, swiping at his hair with a long whined out “eeeew”, and a worried grin when Jordan stays put, unsurprisingly, still feeling unsure about his place in their home.

He holds his son’s eye for a second longer, trying to convey how he feels, the moment interrupted by the youngest one jumping up and down to get his attention. He leans down and goes to pick them up in both his arms when he feels his husbands hand on his back.

“Take it easy, old man” Stiles scoffs and leans into Derek, wrapping his arm about Derek’s waist “Don’t want you getting hurt” He goes for a kiss and both of them smile against each other’s lips when they hear a loud simultaneous “nneewwwww”.

“I love you” Stiles whispers against his mouth as the children run out the house, Jordan climbing on the passenger seat of the Camaro, beside Alice, who flashes them a smile and pulls out the driveway, the other three attacking the SUV in anticipation for Stiles to drive them.

Stiles turns away, ready to get out the house, but Derek catches his hand, pulling him into another heated kiss, biting and sucking at his husband’s lips.

“What was that?” he asks breathlessly

“Thank you” Derek whispers, pressing his forehead to Stiles’ collarbone, feeling the little tremors as he laughs

“For what?” Derek looks up, first into Stiles’ eyes and then at the car, with the children waiting into it

“For that.”

“Then I should thank you too, sourwolf” Stiles grins, coming closer to lick at Derek’s ear “And I shall. Many, many times, in many different positions”

He winks and runs away, cackling in the same maniac way he used to when he was 18.




“Hey, Derek, could you come?” Tyler calls from the living room on a Christmas morning.

He came home with his girlfriend for the holydays and Derek can admit to himself that he always feared nobody would ever be good enough for his son, or any of his children for that matter.

Oh, how much he loves being wrong.

It’s not their first time meeting Brienna, but they’ve managed to get to know the girl better these past few days, and Derek loves her, almost as much as Stiles does.

So Derek can’t say he’s really surprised to find his husband and son in the living room, both teary eyed and red-cheeked, Tyler holding Grandma Hale’s engagement ring. He goes straight for the boy- the man, his son is a man- and wraps his arms around him, squeezing tightly as his own eyes fill with tears.

Tyler is as tall as Stiles, broad shouldered and thick muscled, he would remind Derek of Boyd if it wasn’t for the fluffy mop of curly hair and sporadic ramblings.

I-I can’t take it” Tyler’s words catch.

“Yes, you can” Derek growls into his hair

“No, Derek” he pulls away and looks into his eyes “You should give it to Brody or Aunt Cora’s twins or some cousin, it should stay in the family”

Derek is going to kill his son.

Thankfully his husband feels the same way and smacks the back of Tyler’s head, glaring, as he rounds them to stand beside Derek.

He sighs and gives Tyler the same look he used to give him when he would ramble about not being good enough as a teenager. It’s the “I love you, but you’re so stupid I’m in pain” patented Stilinski expression he’s seen the Sheriff wear on more than one occasion.

“For us, you became part of this family on the day we first saw you” he smiles “For the state, that happened thirteen weeks, four days and five hours later. And when you went to change your name on your eighteenth birthday, you, yourself stated to the whole world that you are a part of this family.”

“And we would love nothing more for Brienna to become part of this family” Derek begins, tapping his finger on the thin gold band “And I insist on that happening with this ring” he playfully slaps Tyler on the cheek, holding his jaw tightly

“So that it stays in the family”




Brienna shouts “Oh God, yes!” After dinner that evening , while she and Tyler are supposedly bringing the dessert .

“Did he ask her?” Alice is just about ready to jump out of her seat and when they nod, she does just that, running towards the kitchen screaming “New sister!” at the top of her lungs.

Derek and Stiles continue sipping on their wine, happy smiles plastered over their faces, when all of a sudden Jordan clears his throat and asks.

“When are you guys going to tell them about the new babies?” making his parents spit out their wine all over each other and his siblings shriek simultaneously “New what?”












This damn house hasn’t been this big since the day they bought it after they adopted Maria. Derek runs from room to room and his husband is nowhere to be found even though he can hear him shouting.

He almost crashes into Maria when he rounds the corner, the girl practically jumping him, dark braids flying everywhere

“Daddy! Papa has something to tell you” she shrieks excitedly.

“Okay, honey, where is he?” he really has to get to Stiles right now, the phone in his hand feeling hot She grabs his hand and starts pulling in the direction she came from.

As they close on the garage he can hear Dylan babbling and starts shuffling faster towards his goal, the boy was peeking over his shoulder when Derek got the call, and he can’t keep his mouth shut.

“Pops, pops, Dad’s gotta tell ya somethin’” Dylan’s voice booms just as Derek and Maria barge in, stopping in their track as Derek sees his son’s head peeking from under the Camaro.

“What are you doing?”

“Thought Pops might be under the car” he states, matter of fact.

“What would he be doing-”


Stiles is standing by the garage door looking pale and scared and excited. Derek turns to face him and lets a smile sneak on his face, the same time Stiles’ mouth opens.

“Tyler just called, Brienna is in labor” Derek says

The boys are in Turkey” Stiles beams

And both of them just stand there staring at each other while their children shout “What?”

“What do you mean in labor?”

“How are they in Turkey?”

Derek’s never felt so confused and happy at the same time, he can see Stiles feel the same way, skin almost bursting at the seams as he bounces on the balls of his feel, looking far younger than his forty something.

“There were some communication problems and they couldn’t call us when the boys got on the plane in Kenya, but now they are waiting for the second fright form Turkey to Cali.” His eyes are sparkling

“They will be here in less than twenty hours” and he moves to jump on Derek, wrapping his long legs around his waist, prepping kisses all over his face as Dylan and Maria groan.

Derek laughs and spins his husband around, dropping him on the hood of the car, when Stiles takes a sharp breath and slaps his shoulder.

“Brienna? Labor? How? She has two more weeks?” that startles Derek

“Oh yeah, but according to her doctor, its perfectly normal for a baby of her size” he leans back down to kiss Stiles.

“We’re having a granddaughter” Stiles whispers against his lips.

“We’re getting two more sons” Derek whispers back, nuzzling into Stiles’ neck.

“Yeah, yeah, and you’re going to miss all of it if you don’t stop being gross and move your butts” Maria’s voice bursts their bubble and they turn to see her and Dylan by the door, tapping one foot each.




Michaela Clara Stilinski-Hale is born on Wednesday, November second, at exactly 01:11 AM, weighting in at 9lbs 2oz, measuring 21,16 inches.

She is perfection in all her wrinkled gory glory, thick tuff of dark hair on her head, and unusually colored pair of eyes blinking up at her parents’ faces.

“Ty, don’t take it the wrong way, but this pretty girl here is all Brienna” Derek says as he stares at her in awe. He’s never seen a baby that young, none of the children they raised had ever come to them at such a young age, even the new twins, on whose adoption they’ve worked since before they were born.

“Yeah, dude” stiles laugh beside him, brushing his knuckles over her small hand “No offense, but she’s too gorgeous to be yours”

“Gee, thanks guys, I’m blushing” Tyler grunts, but the look of pure adoration on his face leaves no doubt about what’s really on his mind.

“Why Michaela, though?” Derek is genuinely curious, they’ve heard hundreds of suggestions, but never that exact name, or anything close to it.

“You noticed, huh?” Tyler huffs a laugh and looks down at his wife “Go on, sneaky pants, tell them” Both men raise their eyebrows at the exhausted woman on the bed

“Well,” she starts, a proud smile crinkling her eyes “Tyler told me the whole boomboxing the pants off your body story” Stiles cackles beside her “So I thought, George Michael is the man”

“You’re ridiculous, you know?”

“That’s why she’s perfect” stiles interrupts, kissing her temple.

“When are you going?” Tyler turns to his Dad.

“Alice and Jordan came home from college yesterday, they should be here in twenty minutes to take the young ones, and then we’re off to LA” Tyler throws them a smile.

“You guys really excited about looking after more brats like us?” Stiles moves towards him, slapping him on the back, while Brienna chuckles lightly.

Looking down at the baby in his arms, then the three in the corner with the bed, and finally at the puppy pile on the couch, Derek’s heart swells with pride and love for his family.

He huffs out a laugh “What can we say? It’s addicting” he winks at Stiles.




Arriving at the airport is both nerve wreaking and awakening.

The thought of meeting another of their children never gets less exciting, less earth shattering, it could never get old or insignificant. Derek feels it in his bones with every step he takes into the busy airport, its like a current running through his body, lighting him up, making his heart beat faster.

He’s sure he can smell baby powder and gross purees from where they are standing, all the way to the front of the crowd waiting at “Arrivals”.

The minute the door opens and a steady flow of sweaty, tired people flood the open space, Stiles is a ball of energy by Derek’s side, repeating, like a broken record “Are they there? Do you see them? Derek? They coming?”

And suddenly, there they are. Each held in the arms of a social worker, secured in a Manduca, while two others pull heavy suitcases behind them.

Everything happens all at once as one of them locates Stiles and Derek and calls “Say Hi to daddy”, while the other two turn the boys around to face them. Derek’s heart lurches into his throat and Stiles all but jumps over.




They get the boys home the next day.

The ten month olds being all too cooperative, looking around the hotel room they slept in the first night with big eyes. Stiles gets out the car first, when they pull into their driveway, and goes to shush the other children in the house so that they don’t scare the new ones, then he gets back to take one of them.

They go in, each holding a sleeping baby, and Derek smiles when he sees how excited Maria and Alice are, while the boys sit on the couch, pretending to not be interested since babies are “A girl thing” apparently.

“Guys, would you like to meet your new brothers?” Stiles calls and all three of them heave a sigh as they move to get closer

“What are their names?” Maria asks, trying to peek as them.

“This is Hendrick” Stiles points to the one in his hands and then to his brother and Derek “And this is Gillian”

“Really, guys?” they look at Jordan, who slowly slides a hand over his face, looking at them with the most tired expression he can muster “The first children you get to name by yourselves and you go with musicians?”

“Hey” stiles exclaims “Everybody deserves to know the greats.” He throws a wink at Derek, who laughs.

Chapter Text



None of them can actually pinpoint the exact date it started happening.

The collision of Stiles’ innate forgetfulness, his habit of overdosing on Aderall and coffee and lack of sleep proverbial to most new parents, especially to ones with two young children, make it almost impossible to distinguish simple airheadedness and symptoms.

Its not the fact that he locks his keys in the car more often than not, its not that he takes a diaper bag to work instead of his laptop, its not even the fact that Hendrick and Gillian end up at the daycare in their jamies at least once every week that raises the red flags.

Those things are so Stiles that Derek can’t find it in himself to be really mad even after he finds their son’s brand new, firehydrant-red jumper in the washer with what used to be their white laundry.

The shit hits the fan when one day, during their weekly barbeque, Scott is running after his daughter and the girl trips and crashes into the ground with a nasty smack.

Derek’s experience with looking after numerous children for years helps him stay calm and help the girl, clean out her scraped knees and make her laugh, simultaneously checking her pupils, her father’s scared eyes not leaving for a second. As soon as she gets her good girl gold star and a pretty bandage she’s off to the living room to throw herself in the game the boys are playing, no trace of lingering pain or distress.

As if on cue, the moment he sees his daughter is perfectly alright, Scott breaks down and his whole body starts trembling with the shocks of an asthma attack.

Derek is by his side in the blink of an eye, steadying him.

“Hey, hey, Scott, calm down” but Scott’s eyes seem like they are about to roll out of his head and the pathetic wheezing sounds coming out of his throat are haunting.

“Scott, Scott!” he shouts trying to get his attention but the other man just curls further into himself.

“Scott where is your inhaler?” the only response he gets is a shake of his head and Derek is so fucking desperate he starts shouting for his spouse .

“Babe, what is-” Stiles’ question dies in his throat as he takes in the image of his best friend almost on the ground

“Stiles! Inhaler!”


“Scott’s back up inhaler! Now” He only gets a blank stare in response and stiles seems frozen in his spot.

“Stiles, for fuck sake -”

“I don’t know where it is” his voice is barely audible

“What? Stiles now is not the moment for-”

“Derek” the sound of his name is a quiet sob “I don’t remember, Derek”

The sound of Scott’s miserable breaths takes both of their attention and stiles crashes by his best fiends feet and tries to do something, anything, while crying that he can’t remember. Helping Scott had become a second nature to him during high school, but its been at least five years since his buddy has had an attack, just some labored breathing, and Stiles is pretty sure he has never seen one as bad.

In the next moment Derek has a lapfull of a worried 6 year old girl, holding an inhaler out to her dad, who takes it and starts pumping.

“Mommy says to always be prepared” she smiles at Derek and he sighs in relief




“Derek” Stiles calls behind him

“Yeah?” He keeps staring out the window of their bedroom.

“I think-” Stiles’ breath hitches in his throat

“Yeah, babe?” he tries to keep it together, squeezing his eyes tightly shut

“I need to go to the hospital” he feels Stiles’ forehead on his back and moves to grab his limp hands, pulling them tight around himself.

“I’m coming with you”




Two weeks before his forty seventh birthday, on the day Alice calls to tell them she is pregnant, Stiles is diagnosed with Creutzfeldt–Jakob disease.




Derek has always preferred being informed.

As a child he could never fall asleep before hearing the end of the story his parents choose, if his mother bought a new type of soap or toothpaste, he needed to know why, before he used it, he wanted to know what he was going to get for his birthday before the day.

With Stiles he had had no choice. He was a surprise from the day Derek laid his eyes on him until the day his own closed.

He thinks knowing how much time Stiles has would make everything easier, having all the facts and studies and reading on the disease should make understanding and accepting it possible, right?

Well it doesn’t.

It fucking doesn’t.

No matter how much he researches and with how many doctors they talk, or to how many trials they apply, nothing helps Derek come to terms with the reality they are living everyday.

Stiles is a surprise, so, somewhere deep inside, Derek’s traitorous heart, the only one he has, the one that has belonged to Stiles for more than half of their lives, it gives birth to the belief that somehow Stiles will once again do the impossible. Stiles has always been more than anybody else so he won’t simply beat the odds and survive longer than the year most patients have, he will heal.

His beautiful, unique, magical brain will somehow heal itself and he will get to live the rest of his life by Derek’s side, surrounded by children and laughter.




He finds Stiles standing on the back porch in the middle of the night, heavy rain drops rolling down his lithe frame, after his latest doctor’s appointment.

Doctor Deaton had given them a sad smile after he read through Stiles’ latest test results, lips tight and face smooth to try and hide any emotion, but they’ve known the man long enough to see the little give in the corner of his eyes. It’s getting worse.

He had tried to seem hopeful and spoken of new trials and new methods , but mostly he had recommended stronger painkillers in the future and more bed rest.

Derek can see his Stiles shaking, as if he is cold, as if he is positively freezing in the California summer rain. He closes in on Stiles, wrapping his arms around his middle and squeezing tightly.

"Let it out," he says quietly. "It helps."

"Not me," Stiles croaks. "Nothing can help me." Derek takes a deep breath, taking in the calming scent of his husband’s shampoo, his body wash, his shaving cream and he can feel the tears choking him,

"You should get out of this rain," Derek says. "You're cold."

"It doesn't matter anymore," the younger laughs. .

"Of course it does." Still the same quiet, calm voice. "I think you could use a cup of something hot," he says, turning back and pulling him towards the house.

Before he manages to get them both in, Stiles plants both his feet firmly on the floorboards, digging his heels in the wood.

“What’s the point?” he whispers, burying his face in the back of Derek’s neck.

“Stiles, don’t-”

“No, Derek, you don’t!” he squeezes over his chest, wet tears lining his voice.

“You can’t pretend this is not happening”

“I am not.”

“then why-” he starts, moving to pull his husband around.

“Because it’s you” and Derek kisses the shocked expression and thugs him in.




"I wanted to... thank you," Stiles says.


"For being here. For being so supportive. For not leaving the pathetic charity cas-”

“Shut up, Stiles” He’s barely keeping from shouting at the younger one, all the anger and fear and desperation coiling low in his gut, voice shaking with barely contained… everything. “Don’t you ever dare say something like that to me.”

“But I really am thankful, for you, for our life, our children, for this” he motions to the rest of the house, smiling sadly “For your willingness to sacrifice yourself.”

“I am not sacrificing anything, Stiles! For fuck’s sake!” he falls down to his knees, burying his face in his husband’s lap, choked sobs escaping his lips “you’re the love of my life” he whispers.

“Derek-” Derek looks up at him, tears shining down his face.

“what we have? We made it all together. We created this together. We took care of our children together. We, not me! Us, both, you and men, don’t you get that” he’s babbling, stumbling over his own words, hands trembling as they pull on his hair

“okay, babe, okay” he falls down next to Derek, tucking his head into his chest “I won’t say it anymore. ”




Stiles is an idiot.

Derek has always known it, but this is his worst idiocy yet.

This whole thing isn’t just about Stiles alone, but he doesn’t get it, he’s too wrapped up in his stupid idea of dying rather than trying to fight.

He doesn’t seem to care about anyone else, about what it will do to Derek, to their children.

Derek knows Stiles has a list of people he would die for. In his beautiful, neat scrawl he has scribbled the names of their children, his father, and right at the top- Derek.

Derek can’t bear the sight of this simple piece of cream colored paper, thick and heavy where it lays on Stiles’ bedside table, a cheap violet pen laying atop, they bought it from the gas station on a busy morning, after Maria whined she would die without it.

Derek grabs the list, ready to rip it into pieces before deciding against it, chest heaving he turns to the en suite bathroom where Stiles is getting ready for the day and kneels by the bed.

Using the well loved copy of The Hobbit his spouse keeps always at hand, he places the sheet and, holding his breath, quickly writes on its wrong side, throwing everything on the bed before running out of their room.


People to live for :

Mieczysław Stilinski-Hale




They’re lying in bed, naked, Derek’s arms around Stiles, Stiles’ head tucked under Derek’s chin.

“I’m tired,” he whispers into the silence. “Can’t you understand that I’m tired of being at war all the time?” It’s then that Derek realises that in a way, he’s never known Stiles other than sick.

First it was the hyperactive kid, who had just lost his mother to a disease so much like the one about to take him, who had been weaned on Aderall to help ‘manage’ him, then it was the way Derek himself had made him sick, loving him and confusing him, making him question his feelings and sexuality just because he was a coward.

Now it’s this eating away at his brain.

Derek gets being tired of fighting. And he had it easier than Stiles – he had always had someone to fight beside him.


“I’ll fight with you. For you.”

“This time, you can’t.”




“You have to promise me something” Stiles whispers into his coffee mug. Its barely sunrise but he has been up since the middle of the night, muscle cramps keeping him up.

“Anything, love” Derek answers, looking up from the breakfast he’s preparing for his family.

“When the time comes-” Stiles gulps heavily and Derek’s hand stops moving the sharp knife, sensing where this is going “You’re going to pull the plug”


“No, please, I know what the end looks like and I need to know I have someone that will make it easier.”

Derek knows he can’t do it. Already, he feels lost and despairing, torn between anger and grief. This is too much. How can Stiles ask it of him? Doesn’t he know him after all these years?

When it’s clear that there is no joke in Stiles’ eyes, Derek is tempted to just turn and destroy the kitchen, the living room, the whole entire fucking ridiculous house.

He stays instead, arguing. Stiles has to see reason.

“You’ll be merciful, Derek, kind, caring, everything this disease, this monster, won’t be. I need you to do this for me.”

“I . . .” Derek feels trapped. “I . . . all right.”

It’s not that Stiles doesn’t know him. No. It’s that Stiles knows him too well.




Derek comes home to a crying Dylan in the garage, hiding beside their bikes and trembling in his thin T-shirt, quiet sobs escaping his pale trembling lips.

He looks up at his father, big eyes scared and desperate and beating Derek to it whispers

“Pops..” pointing towards the kitchen.

Nothing could’ve prepared him for the situation he would find in there. His husband crouching on the floor, a shaking Maria in his arms, his hands going over and over her dark hair, whispering lowly in her ear “I am so sorry, baby girl. So so so sorry, love, I am so sorry” Tears starting anew when he spots Derek.

He closes in on them and falls heavily beside the pitiful duo, hand coming up to his daughter’s face, but she forcefully pulls away, burying into Stiles’ neck. Derek can't even find it in himself to hide his unexpected panic and desperation. “I’m so sorry, its all my fault, baby, I am so sorry” Stiles continues

And Derek can't stand this anymore.

He needs to know what is wrong with them, and he needs to know now. He reaches for his daughter’s face once again and this time she lets him catch her chin between his thump and forefinger and move her to take a better look.

He’s greeted by a fading red handprint on her cheek, his breath catching, while Stiles’ whining intensifies, pulling her body tighter in his embrace.

“I did that, I did that, I hurt her”

Derek grabs his hands and gently unwraps them from the girl’s lithe body, all the while looking straight into her eyes, searching for something, for a sign of a give, just something, a little not from her is enough to spur him into action.

“Honey, can you go to your room?”

“No, no, no, Derek-” Stiles tries

“Honey, please, I need to talk to your dad” she nods again and gets up slowly, Stiles’ eyes glued on her form, wide and unseeing as his whole body shakes

Stiles listens to Maria's steps growing distant.

"Derek?" he whispers.

"I'm here, babe."

"Can we go now? I want to go now."

"Sure," Derek says.

"Let's go, then."

Suddenly Stiles’ body feels incredibly light, as Derek leads him to the bedroom to get ready for the hospital. They’ve had a room waiting in the ward for the past two months, but Stiles wanted to spend as much time with the children as he could before the behavioral changes started.

He goes to Maria’s room, finding her curled up on the window seat, Dylan by her feet, squeezing a teddy bear he insisted on being to old to use just a year ago, before the diagnose, before this monster swept them all off their feet.

He knocks lightly on the open bedroom door, their heads whipping simultaneously to look at him.

“Hey guys” he moves lightly, not wanting to seem threatening to the already distressed children.

How is he supposed to apologize? What could he possibly say to make this better? To make them see it wasn’t Stiles, but the sickness? How could he make them see how much theit father loved them, unconditionally, undeniably?

He’s getting dizzy with all the questions and scenarios running through his head, when Maria crashes into him, skinny arms looping around his neck, forceful sobs rocking her entire body.

“I hate it, I hate it, I hate it so much it hurts” she chants and his heart breaks. He should’ve never left this morning, he should’ve stayed and taken care of his family like a real father would.

“Baby, your dad, he didn’t-”

“No, no, not him” she moves away, franticly shaking her head, eyes wide and horrified, leaving Derek lost “This sickness, this thing” she starts “I hate what it does to him, how much it hurts him. I’m good, I’m fine ” she pauses, seemingly searching for the right words “But he won’t forgive himself for this”

“Oh, baby” he sobs, pulling her closer.




The first time that Stiles doesn’t recognise Derek is bad.

Derek comes in the room on a Wednesday morning to bring Stiles new books and the pictures Hedrick and Gillian drew for him last night. He moves quickly in the already familiar place, throwing his jacket on the fluffy armchair beside Stiles’ bed, carefully placing two coffees on the bedside table along with his backpack and pressing a lingering kiss to his husband’s lips.

He hasn’t realized that Stiles hasn’t moved since he opened the door, or that he is looking at Derek with terrified expression, all the color drained from his face.

It hits him that something is terribly wrong when Stiles grabs for one of the full vases and hurls it at Derek’s head, hitting his temple point blank. Hot pain shoots through Derek’s entire body, and for a second his whole entire world consists of a blinding pain and black spots jumping behind his tightly closed eyelids.

Then he hears Stiles shout for his father, for a nurse, for security. He hears his high-pitched screams about an intruder, about a crazy guy attacking him.

He tries to get up form where he has kneeled on the cold floor, holding his throbbing head, but a hard kick to his abdomen makes him double over in a new fit of consuming hurt.

The only thing he can hear over his own hard breathing, is Stiles shouting.

“Help! Help! Someone, please, help me!”




The second and each following time are worse.

Derek can’t get used to it, the way Stiles looks at him, uncomprehending. It’s not Stiles’ fault and Derek feels guilty everytime he thinks about how much he hates it.

“It’s Derek, your husband. Come, look at the album.” Over and over again.

And sometimes, just the first page is enough to have Stiles turn to Derek with tear filled eyes and start kissing him and telling him how sorry he is, how much he loves him. And it breaks Derek’s heart to see him like this.

They agree to never let the younger children come in the room first, to always have an adult come in and check on how Stiles is, who he is today.

Mostly they just have to wait a few minutes for stiles to gather himself before meeting them, but on a few occasions they’ve had Derek, or the Sheriff, or Uncle Scott come out with tight smiles, saying that dad just needs to rest today.

It’s hard in the beginning, having his youngest’s hopeful eyes dim over with sadness and understanding they are way too young to have.

But they learn. They learn how to be next to Stiles even on his bad days, when he has no idea who they are, pretending to be polite others, they lie but they get to see him smile and laugh, get to see him being himself even when he is not.

Derek knows of an occasion when Stiles, talking to Jordan (who himself had told him he is waiting for his Dad), had pointed at Derek, standing next to a vending machine and whisper shouted “Who’s the hot stuff and is that ass single?” and then whistled.

Jordan had choked on a cookie and proceeded to tell the story to all his siblings, all the while whining about how ridiculous his parents are.




The day comes when Stiles can’t climb the stairs anymore.

The walks in the hospital’s gardens growing shorter and shorter with every passing day, his breaths growing heavier with every single steps he takes.

Lately he relies more on Derek to caary his dwindling weight than on his own legs, leaning his head body on Derek’s side, arms wrapped tightly around his thick bicep.

He falls more and more often. His innate clumsiness turning into a complete lack of coordination as he stumbles over his own two legs, crying out pitifully when his continuously bruised knees hit the ground.

He barely eats. Naturally lean body turning into a sack of bones and he looks so fragile Derek is afraid to touch him somedays. The t-shirts that used to stretch tightly over shapely upper arms and strong shoulders, now hanging freely.

Derek stares at a picture of him at sixteen and decides he is the same weight he used to be, but now he is a hollow, tired version.

One day they realise that he’s not got out of bed in a week.

“I can’t wait much longer,” he tells Derek that night. And Derek knows it to be true.



Derek is sitting in his armchair, laughing at another one of Stiles’ jokes about his new nurse, a tall Polish woman who insists on speaking in Polish even after the thousand time he tells her he doesn’t understand, when all of a sudden his husbands hold on his hand tightens and Stiles looks at him with terrified, glassy eyes.

His eyes dart all over the room and his hands start lightly trembling when they land on Derek.

Suddenly he smiles a slow creepy smile and looks straight into Derek’s worried face.

“Are you finally here to take me, Death? I’ve been waiting for you for so long.”




Stiles Stilinski-Hale dies in the middle of a Wednesday, of course, night, huddled in his husband’s arms.

The end was ugly, and painful, and Derek will remember every moment of it for the rest of his lonely life. He will dream about it even in his waking hours.

Stiles is gone. First he raged, then he begged – begged with his eyes when he couldn’t say the words any longer. Now, when he looks at Derek, there’s no recognition.

The album won’t help, the painkillers wont help, nothing helps anymore.

Sometimes he screams when the dose of painkillers isn’t strong enough anymore. Sometimes he cries when he’s frightened of the stranger that is Derek.

Sometimes Derek wishes that it was all over already.

It’s almost noon when Alice finds them. Derek is sitting in bed, hasn’t moved an inch since the night. Stiles is stiff in his arms, his head on Derek’s shoulder. They’d sat like this so often. It had made Stiles feel safe.

“You’re safe now,” Derek had whispered when he’d pulled Stiles up against him. “It can’t hurt you any longer. Nothing can.” He should feel relieved that it’s over.

He fulfilled his promise.

But the Stiles he’d promised to help, the Stiles he’d known, has been gone for weeks.




The funeral passes in a blur of black clothes and red eyes.




His mind was as blank as can be. Everything whiped from existence, not leaving a speck. There were no thoughts about the most important thing. By now, there was hardly anything left to his being. Just a floating presence that faded in and out of people's thoughts.

Hardly acknowledged, hardly seen. To him nothing around is relevant enough to penetrate the dark cover over his mind.

People spoke to him, he could see them. See them questioning, assuming by their apparent stance. But he avoided it.

He avoided everything. After three weeks of pain and suffering, he has become numb. Numb to the world and whats in it.

All thats left was the feeling of resent. Regret. Disgust. One can only feel so much after they lose their drive in life.

He’s alive and breathing and looking at their children, while Stiles is rotting in the ground, cold and alone.

They were supposed to grow old together and die in their sleep when they are old and wrinkly, they should’ve used old-people canes to get to their bedroom, they should’ve had to crank the volume on their hearing aids in order to find each other in the big house.




“Dad?” Samuel calls to the lump on the bed “Dad, you need to eat.” He tries again, creeping in slowly. The room is dark and the air feels stiff and old in the young man’s lungs. He moves to open the blinds, tripping over piles of books and clothes.

“Dad, you can’t continue doing this to yourself” he gets a grunt in response

“How is he?” its Dylan

“How do you think, smartass?”

“What the fuck, dude?”

“Always with the stupid questions, Dyl” Samuel scoffs and the whole conversation confuses Derek, his sons have always bickered but never like this.

“Why are you acting like this?” yeah, why? “Do you think youre the only one who cares? We all do!” he shouts, making Derek curl tighter “We all love him, we all miss-”

“Then why is he like this?” Samuel shouts back “Why did you let him do this to himself?” Derek’s head hurts from all the noise, he feels bile rising in his gut.

“Guys, don’t” is it Alice? Or Erica? Even their voices are similar.

“But he- he-” Dylan is stuttering, tear filled voice cracking

“He is mourning. We all are, sweet cheeks” Oh, so it really is Erica.

“We just lost Pops” Dylan whispers, voice muffled probably by Erica’s hair “We cant lose dad too”

“Shush, now, honey, lets leave dad to rest” and then he hears the soft click of the door behind them.

Derek flings the covers off his body and stares at the ceiling, feeling so fucking guilty about what he’s putting his kids through.

Dylan was right about everything, he is making them feel as if they are losing their other parent so soon after they lost Stiles and he really feels like punching himself in the face, repeatedly. If his husband could see him right now, he would be so disappointed in him, he would scrunch up his nose in distance and tell Derek to just get a hold of himself.




Derek gets in the shower the next morning, scourging hot water washing away what feels like months worth of grime and dirt and lets a fresh set of tears run down his face.

He grabs the electric razor, they bought when Stiles decided he wanted to go back to the buzzcut, and starts moving it over his jaw, watching intently as his strong bone structure shows form under the dark hair.

Then he moves it to his scalp and thick strands of dark unruly hair start littering the porcelain white sink.

“We keep on kicking, right, love?” he whispers to the photo of Stiles he keeps in his wallet.




Derek Stlinski-Hale dies on a warm September Wednesday night, at the age of seventy.

He dies on the Wednesday that would’ve marked the fiftieth anniversary from the day he met the love of his life, if only he hadn’t lost him.

All of their children are back in Beacon Hills to celebrate and mourn with their father, knowing how important this day is, how hard.

He dies in the bed he shared with his husband. In the house they built for the children they saved, in the home they created for their not so little family. He’s had to live the last fourteen years of his life without Stiles and he’s more than ready for them to be back together.

He’s lived a beautiful life, he can’t ever deny that fact- seeing his children grow up, become the amazing people he and Stiles always knew they were meant to be, creating their own families.

But Derek knows, ever since he had to bury his Stiles, a part of his hart has been missing, the days passing with him looking to the side, eyes searching his husband’s, the nights in the cold bed.

He’s spend almost every night of the last decade and a half telling about his day to a photo of his husband, smiling, and young, and so beautiful. Derek never fooled himself that it was really Stiles, has always known that he’s talking to an inanimate object, but it somehow made going on easier.

But last night…

Last night was different for Derek. He was sure he felt his husband’s warmth beside him, enveloping him in his arms once again. He hasn’t fallen asleep that fast in years.

His oldest son finds him in the morning, no sign of struggle on the perfectly made bed, and a small smile on his thin lips.

“You knew” he whispers to no one, looking around the room.

He calls all the siblings to the house and they hold each other as they say their goodbyes.

No one dares to move the seemingly endless amount of photos surrounding the bed. They see the faces of their aunts and uncles, all the Hales, all the McCalls, Grandpa Stilinski, some of them they know personally, some of them they’ve just heard of.

And most importantly, no one dares to even touch the ones on the bed, they hold the story of their fathers- young and in love, younger and in hate, running and laughing and loving- their friends, their families, their friends, each other.


The quiet sound of music fills the room

Never thought I'd feel like this

Strange to be alone, yeah

But we'll be together

Carved in stone, carved in stone, carved in stone


and Maria sobs in her wife’s arms as she recognizes Ozzy Osborne’s See you on the other side


I'll see you.

See you on the other side

I'm gonna see you.

See you on the other side

God knows I'll see you, see you on the other side,

yeah I wanna see you, yeah, yeah, yeah,

see you on the other side

God knows I'll see you, see you on the other side,

yeah I'm gonna see you.

See you on the other side


Dylan envelopes them both in his arms, whispering in his sister’s dark hair

“He was sickeningly gone for Pops even in his last moments,” by their side the twins put their arms around Alice’s shaking shoulders, tears streaking down their faces, whimpering quietly when he continues lovingly “the dork.”

The one frame Derek holds in his lifeless arms holds an image of their Dad. In the picture Stiles is not even twenty five, sitting in on one of Derek’s book signings or presentations, smiling, eyes sparkling and a messy mop of hair on his head. He is beautiful.

Beside their father there is a notebook entitled with the simple


My Wednesday.