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“I’m not sure…” Derek grumbles, but he’s pulling on his shirt anyway.

Stiles glares at him from across the room, getting dressed as well.

“I mean, I didn’t even graduate with them,” Derek continues quietly.

“And yet they sent you an invitation. That wasn’t just a gesture, Der, they do want you there,” Stiles explains, feeling like he’s repeated the words a million times now. “You’re forgetting that Isaac actually came back, and didn’t get invited to either his original class reunion, or the one he graduated with a year later.”

“That was probably,” Derek starts, but gets interrupted by another glare, and by Stiles’ increasingly frustrated words.

“Yes, they’re assholes. No, it wasn’t by accident. Yes, I’m planning to have Scott and Ally bring him along despite the lack of our classmates’ decency at each and every event they organise.”

“I haven’t talked to any of them in fifteen years,” Derek says, and his voice is dripping with defeat and tinted with sadness.

“That’s what these things are for,” Stiles walks over, now fully dressed. “You catch up, you show off your trophy husband, and you brag to all the losers who never made it out of town.”

“Not like my reason to leave was all that good,” Derek’s sadness permeates the room.

“Fine, be a storm cloud,” Stiles says with a sigh. “We’re still going, because I won’t pass up a chance to be seen with you.”

“And the free food.” Derek finally smiles when his words made Stiles splutter in weak protest. There will be curly fries though, so the outrage is short-lived.

 

---

 

There are curly fries. And alcohol. And more people than Derek expected to see who do recognise him.

Stiles drifts away to a few current deputies whom he knows through his Dad, and Derek… Derek only gets about five minutes of time to debate why he is there at all. After, Stiles finds him in the middle of a memory trip with half of the basketball team, and by the end of the night he even manages to talk to some of Paige’s friends.

“Don’t say it,” Derek says when he’s on the dance floor with Stiles as the night starts winding down.

“Would I?” Stiles’ expression is such an exaggerated version of ‘innocent’ that Derek bursts into laughter right there.

“Okay,” he says when he stops laughing. “Okay, you told me so. You were right.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything, just pulls Derek closer as a slow song plays.

“Thank you,” Derek whispers a little while later, voice muffled in Stiles’ neck.