Where Do We Go From Here?

Chapter 4

Stiles stretched and his body moved against something, a deliciously warm weight behind him. He smiled to himself as the events of last night came rushing back. Derek. Kissing him. Hands everywhere. He hadn’t fully realized how much he’d missed him, but having him here, curled up against him, Stiles felt eternally grateful to the universe for bringing Derek back to him. He’d been missing Derek for a long time, he recognized now; between Cora coming to town, dealing with the Alphas, and solving the mystery of the Darach, they had barely been in the same room together since way before Derek disappeared. Gone were the days when fate threw them together into life-threatening situations at every turn. Stiles chuckled, he missed saving Derek’s ass from wolfsbane bullets, power-hungry hunters, and crazy lacrosse-playing Kanimas every two minutes.

He rolled over, eyeing Derek’s sleeping form. He looked so young, so peaceful...so the opposite of what he looked like fully conscious. Still smiling, Stiles eased himself off the bed, trying not to wake Derek up. He failed though; Derek stirred as soon as he felt Stiles’s warmth move away from him.

“Mmmm,” he mumbled groggily, “where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” Stiles sat back down on the bed, “You have a habit of disappearing on me.”

“Are you getting up?” Derek started to sit up as well.

Stiles pushed him back down, “I am, but you should stay in bed. My dad left for work already and Scott and Isaac are going to be here soon, so I’m going to get breakfast started.”

Derek tried to sit up again, “I’ll help you.”

Stiles realized a more forceful approach was necessary. He pushed Derek back down with both hands and straddled him. “Stay,” Stiles kissed him softly on the lips, “Sleep in. God knows you deserve some rest.”

Derek looked up at him and the situation was suddenly so intimate that Stiles blushed, embarrassed at his boldness, and scrambled off of the wolf, limbs flailing. “I’ll just go get breakfast going,” he said again.

“Stiles,” Derek caught his wrist as he made for the door, “Thank you.”

Stiles just smiled and squeezed Derek’s hand, “Come down when you’re ready Der.”


Derek lay back down on the bed, going over the events of the last few hours in his mind. Who would’ve thought? Him and Stiles. This was certainly not how Derek imagined things playing out when he made the decision to come here. Well, if he was being honest with himself, he may have hoped a little bit. And he definitely wasn’t complaining. But really the main reason he’d chosen to slip in Stiles’s window instead of Scott’s was because Stiles felt safe. Where Scott had challenged him and pulled away from Derek at every opportunity, Stiles was somehow always there, backing him up. Deep down Derek had known Stiles wouldn’t turn him away, although he had every right to.

He burrowed his face into the pillow and was enveloped in Stiles’s scent, which he surprisingly didn’t mind. Derek tried to get comfortable, he tried to do as Stiles said and get some rest, but his mind kept circling back to things it couldn’t quite accept. He was experiencing one of those strange moments where real life felt much more like a dream than reality. Cora was dead. He’d hoped his night spent with Stiles would lessen the ache he felt when he thought of his sister, but the harsh light of morning proved all too effective at illuminating the truth. Cora was gone, and he hadn’t been able to stop it. He still couldn’t quite believe that Stiles had just accepted what he’d told him last night. He’d killed people, lots of people. Sure, they’d killed his sister, but he’d neglected everything his mother had taught him, everything Laura had stood for. He wasn’t supposed to lose control like that. Killing the leader of the witches' coven probably would’ve been enough to escape without being followed.

He was a killer. Stiles should have kicked him out, he should want nothing to do with him. But for some reason Stiles had let him stay, let him touch him, let him kiss him without recoiling in disgust. No, Stiles had initiated the kiss. It just didn’t make sense.

He groaned and rolled over. Well, so much for sleeping in. Instead he tried to steady his breathing as he listened to Stiles move around in the kitchen; he loved the way the boy hummed softly to himself as he broke eggs in a pan, stirred the bacon, checked on the coffee. Derek thought he should probably go down. After all, Stiles had gotten hardly any sleep last night as well, thanks to him, but he couldn’t seem to drag himself from the bed. From the way Stiles bustled around downstairs and continued humming, he seemed to be awake enough for the both of them. Derek curled back up under the covers.

His ears perked up when he heard Stiles go to the front door. Isaac and Scott were here. He really should get up now. Just a little bit longer. Their voices floated up to him and he could tell they were whispering to avoid being overheard by the Beta. Derek strained to make out what they were saying; all he caught was “upstairs,” “last night,” and “Cora.” His heart clenched when he heard her name. Maybe he should stop listening. Maybe he should just suck it up and go downstairs. He stumbled to his feet and went to the bathroom to stare at his haggard reflection, splash some water on his face, and to face the day.


A gust of cool fall air greeted Stiles when he opened the door to the grave faces of his friends. He almost said, Jeez guys, who died? but caught himself. He was on such a Derek high that he nearly forgot why they were here, but Cora’s death was a blow to them all, no matter how long it had been since they’d seen the Hales, and Derek’s confession still weighed heavily on him. He wondered how the others would react when they found out.

“Hey,” Scott said as he crossed the threshold, hugged his best friend, and looked around, “Where’s Derek?”

“He’s upstairs,” Stiles whispered, trying to ignore Isaac’s snigger, “Shut up Isaac.”

“So he just showed up here last night?” Scott led them into the kitchen and Stiles passed out mugs of coffee.

“Mhmm, I think he came straight from up north. He told me they made it all the way up the coast.”

“Did you find out what happened to Cora?” Isaac whispered and then immediately took a sip of coffee, as if afraid of Stiles’s answer.

“He told me the basics of what happened,” Stiles ran his hand through his hair, “I feel like I should really let him tell you though.”

“Of course!” Scott said a little loudly, “We just wanted to know if he was talking. You know Derek, he’s not one to open up about his feelings.”

“Are you kidding?” Isaac chuckled, “He couldn’t even use his words to tell me when we were out of milk. He talked to you though?”

“Yeah there was a decent amount of talking...and some not talking,” Stiles smirked.

“Dude!” Scott cheered.

“Ugh, yes, finally,” Isaac groaned.

Stiles and Scott whirled around to gawk at him simultaneously, “What do you mean finally?”

“Are you kidding?!” he laughed, “You two have been dancing around each other since I met you.”

“Dude no, just, no,” Scott shuddered, obviously still uncomfortable with the whole situation, “It’s Derek - Derek Hale - Stiles only just started crushing on him and there is no way Derek has had feelings for Stiles for that long. No offense Stiles.”

“None taken,” Stiles said through a mouthful of bacon. “Although Derek did make out with my face last night and he told me that he wanted to have sex with me, so that probably counts for something.”

Scott spit out his coffee. “W-what?!” he choked.

“Tell. Us. Everything.” Isaac was practically salivating and Stiles doubted it was due to the smell of his delicious eggs and bacon that were sitting abandoned on the counter.

“A gentleman never tells,” Stiles grinned, coy as you please, and served them each helpings before the food cooled too much.

“Oh is that what you’re calling yourself?” Derek leaned against the doorway, “That’s not how you acted last night.”

Isaac cackled, Scott groaned, and Stiles wanted to die right there in the kitchen. Either that or wipe the smile off Derek’s smug, stupid face. With his mouth.

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