Archive of Our Own ^beta

“You’re dead to me Scott!” Stiles meant every word.

3 years later

“Here we are,” dad said, setting Stiles’s suitcase down and just lingering. Right there. Waiting for something.

Just what, Stiles didn’t know. It was starting to put him on edge as well. But Stiles had learned a lot these past three years, so he just… did nothing. Said nothing and looked around a room that used to feel like home to him. Everything was where he’d left it. Literally everything. Stiles could remember as soon as he saw that pen next to his computer just what he was writing before he’d gone out. Before he’d left this room and-

It should have felt good being home. It really should have.

There was a knock, Dad’s hand listing by his side, debating whether to knock again before blurting out, “I was thinking we could order in? I know you’re still harping about my diet,” he laughed, “But this is a happy day. I think we can have pizza at least once.”

Pizza. “Pizza sounds good.” He hadn’t had proper pizza in a while. Dad was right as well. Pizza wouldn’t hurt for one night.

It made dad smile as well. A real smile, not those weird ones he’d been giving Stiles for, well, he honestly couldn’t remember a real smile. “I’ll leave you to settle in,” dad said, leaving after another minute of just watching.

The door was left open. It was weird. Not that his door was never open over there, but usually there were people. There was noise and hustle and now there was just nothing. Just a wall and silence.

It was suffocating.

He unpacked before he could drive himself into a panic. Unpacking kept him busy. Kept his mind on things other than silence and alone and alone and alone. He was so alone here. No one to hear him. No one to check up on him. His dad would be leaving for work. His dad had to leave for work at some point and then Stiles would be even more alone. There would be even more silence.

Unpacking. He had to unpack. He had to put things where they needed to go and just not think.

There were things in his wardrobe that didn’t fit him anymore. It was weird. He used to love that shirt. That one too. He thought he’d have more time with them. More days to wear them and maybe he was putting too much thought into a shirt, but it was true. There were a lot of things in here that he wished he’d had more time to love.

It wasn’t fair.

But at least sorting wasted a good few hours before the pizza came.

Once upon a time Stiles would have filled the silence around them with stories of school, of Scott and video games. Of anything and everything on his mind. That was obsolete now. It wasn’t like he didn’t have things to say either. He had a lot to say. But dad hadn’t said anything to him since the pizza had come and Stiles wasn’t going to break the silence first. He’d learned that lesson the hard way.

It was a long evening that led to an even longer night.

Dad was still there in the morning. He’d taken a week off. Seven whole vacation days he could have spent somewhere else, relaxing, reclining, spending money he should have had in his bank account instead of it being funnelled to Stiles’s medical bills. It looked like he was wanting to spend more money as well since, after a lazy morning of drifting around each other, they took Stiles’s jeep around town.

“I don’t need more clothes.”

“You’re going to be going outside at some point kid,” dad said, and not for the first time, taking a left towards the mall. “Hopefully you’ve stopped growing so these’ll last longer than the… the pants.” His second pair currently sitting in his room his dad had bought him last year after he’d outgrown his other pair. Those ones rested way above his ankles now. But they were fine. They still fit enough he could walk around in them. He had the ones he had one as well. So he didn’t need new pants. “Besides, we need food. Stiles approved food,” he cast a grin Stiles’s way. Stiles struggled to give one back.

Overall, it was a long day out. Stiles was exhausted by the time they got home. But at least his skin had stopped prickling. They hadn’t ran into anyone Stiles had known either.

Why would they? Everyone that was in Stiles’s year would be in college right now. Or, he supposed, at their jobs. Jobs they were doing through the day meaning they wouldn’t be roaming the mall or the grocery store or even the streets where Stiles could run into them.

That was the hope anyway as day two set in and Stiles realised that yeah, his dad was right, he was going to have to go outside. He was going to have to be a functioning member of society. That was the whole reason he was home because he was capable of doing all those things.

Or, he was supposed to be capable of doing all those things.

Dad handed over some pamphlets over breakfast that morning. Things like ‘Getting your GED’, ‘Is Community College for You?’ Things like that since, well, Stiles supposed he couldn’t go back to highschool. He had two whole years to catch up on, and another to spare that he should, theoretically, have been using to travel or work or just be in college like he was supposed to. A real college. FBI school even.

That was out the window now.

He couldn’t even work for his dad. Not with the psych tests. His dad had a lot of pull, but even he couldn’t push Stiles’s stay in a mental house under the rug. It looked like it was retail or bust for him now. Or maybe not if the pamphlet dad shoved next into his hands was anything to go on. “Integration dad? Really?” ‘How to find your place back in Society’. That had to be from Eichen House. It just had to be.

“I’ve been doing some research. Apparently a lot of places can’t discriminate based on mental illness anymore. You can have a future Stiles.” And he sounded so hopeful Stiles actually hoped that were true.

He’d certainly try anyway. If only for his dad.

“I’ll look into it. See if I can find something that piques my interest.” Sales maybe? Teaching? Was that an option? He certainly remembered a few teachers who certainly needed therapy if they weren’t already in it when he was in high school.

“That’s all I ask,” dad promised. “Well, that and maybe finishing high school. Trust me, I know it sounds scary, especially because you’ll be doing it alone, but so many doors will open for you when you finish.”

“I know,” he did, “I’ll look into it,” he said again.

Dad nodded, talk turning quiet for a while as the tv washed over them.

He booted up his old computer later. His search history was gone. It should have been strange but Stiles knew short term computer memory didn’t show up from three years ago. Still, he couldn’t help feeling like this was another thing that had betrayed him.

He searched up GED’s the rest of the night.

Day three and four were just plain boring. Stiles was used to a routine.  So much so he found himself staring at the front door for a good two hours before dad told him, “You can leave the house you know.” Which he did, theoretically, know. It was just nice to hear it too. Nicer still to go out without his dad trailing behind him. He could still feel eyes on him from the window, but for the entire time he jogged along the streets there was no one following him. It… it was nice until it wasn’t. Until Stiles felt eyes where there were none. Until he could feel his heart beating in his throat and his job turned into a run into a sprint until he was panting outside of his own door.

Dad didn’t ask how the run went.

Day five Stiles enlisted in some classes. Or at least registered his interest and got a promising email that would tell him when he could actually sign up for them when term time came around. He also decided to start helping himself. To start settling in. Things weren’t going back to normal. Things weren’t normal to begin with, but at least Stiles hadn’t felt like his own home was strange to him. So: normal. Routine. Helping. He could do that.

He made a timetable. An actual honest to God timetable he knew himself from three years ago would never have been able to keep. But with the amount of meds given to him in his medication slot he found himself finishing every item on his list with minimal distraction.

He was actually quite proud of himself. Dad didn’t say anything about the cleaning frenzy either. Or the cooking. Or the hour Stiles spent outside just sitting on the porch because the idea of running again made his skin itch. 

Day six dawned with the door going before Stiles was fully awake. It took a moment before Stiles realised that was his door that was being knocked on. Even longer for him to realise that he could answer it if he wanted to. His dad was there before Stiles made it downstairs, the conversation short, snappish even, before dad was dragging in what looked like a whole flower shop.

“You go get yourself a girlfriend while I was gone?” Stiles laughed. The bunch was bigger than Stiles’s head. Dad had sounded like he wanted to keep the conversation away from Stiles too. He could practically smell the shame. Which meant there had to be a hidden something going on. 

Sure enough, “It’s nothing,” dad waved off, doing his best to keep the bunch behind his back as he skirted towards the kitchen.

“I’m not mad.” Not completely mad anyway. Let’s face it, there was always going to be a small part of him that hated the idea of his dad dating other people. But his dad needed someone and Stiles wanted him to be happy so, yeah, good for him. He should probably practice his happy face in front of the mirror, make it more authentic. For now he settled with, “What’s her name?”

“There’s no girl,” dad called back, Stiles listening to the trash going. 

“Guy then?” He wasn’t bothered. It just meant it ran in the family. 

“No guy,” Dad scoffed, the trash going again as Dad forced the flowers into it. 

Stiles padded his way into the kitchen, watching the last few stems snapping in place before being stuffed with the rest of them in the trash. “You know I already saw them dad. You didn’t have to throw them away.” Not unless… “You’re not ashamed of them are you? Is it someone inappropriate? How young are we talking here? Ten? Twelve years? Stop me when I’m getting nearer. Thirteen?”

“Stiles,” dad sighed, but there was a smile tinged at the edges of his mouth. “There’s no one but you. I promise.”

“Well that’s just plain creepy. Sad too,” so who were the flowers from? 

“Stiles,” his dad warned again, a full blown smile on his face now. 

He leaned against the doorway, “What?” 

Dad shook his head. “There’s no one,” he promised again. 

“Then why the smile?” 

Dad shook his head again, “I’m just happy you’re home.” 

Which, “Oh.” Yeah. He guessed this was the longest he’d talked since coming home. “I guess I’m happy I’m back too.”

Dad herded him into the living room as soon as he’d finished destroying his mystery flowers. A movie Stiles had been itching to see before his incarceration, dad sneaking junk food and just generally a good night after a good day had him thoroughly distracted the rest of the night.

Well played dad.

Unfortunately, Stiles had never learned to leave well enough alone. Even after Eichen he just couldn’t stop that little voice inside his head telling him that he had to know. He had to just know who had sent those flowers. Maybe it also had a little something to do with his meds wearing off, his nighttime ones not as strong as the stuff they used to force down his throat. Whatever it was, Stiles wasted no time as soon as his dad’s door had closed to sneak down to the kitchen and dig around the trash.

For a cop, his dad hadn’t thought to completely destroy the evidence. The shreds of card that came with the flowers were still legible enough to read once Stiles had fished all the pieces out. Fitting them all together, Stiles didn’t even notice the kitchen light coming on, his flashlight still stuck on the handwriting he knew just as well as his dad’s. 

“Scott or Melissa?” It was Melissa’s handwriting. She used to leave him notes around the house when he stayed over at hers. Little things like what the emergency contacts were. That there was pizza on the way and that she’d made sure she got enough for two. That she was happy to hear at least someone had aced their chemistry test. 

“Stiles…”

“Scott or Melissa?” He took a deep breath, forcing his voice calm again as he begged, “Who was at the door dad?” 

Glad to hear you’re home. Don’t be a stranger,
love the McCall family.

“Melissa,” dad finally admitted.

Stiles felt his shoulders dropping. It wasn’t Scott then. Scott probably didn’t even know he was out. That was good. If Melissa only came around tonight as well that meant that she’d only just learned he was out. She’d probably tell Scott tomorrow. Stiles still had a window. He still had time.

“Stiles?”

He forced a smile on his face, gathering the card and shoving them back in the trash. “That was nice of her. Sending flowers.” Really nice because she was a nice lady. “You should have just said it was her, I would’ve said hello.”

Judging from dad’s face he’d thought this was going to go a lot differently. Which it would have if Stiles wasn’t completely okay with this situation right now. He had time. 

Dad blocked the doorway slightly, just staring at Stiles for a moment before slowly asking, “You would’ve said hello?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, “Why not? She basically helped you bring me up. Why wouldn’t I want to say hello to her?” He missed her. Or, had missed her since he supposed he could go see her now. 

“Right,” dad nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Stiles nodded back, then, when dad didn’t move, asked, “Can I go to bed now?”

“Oh,” dad moved, “Yes. Go ahead. Night kid.”

“Night.”

He didn’t sleep.

He didn’t even look at his meds, knowing they’d knock him out. Instead he waited out the darkness, his fingers getting antsier and antsier until it got to an appropriate time to start getting ready. He slapped some breakfast together for his dad, posting a note on top saying he was going for a run before venturing the half hour walk to the McCall house. 

He stopped a block away, his feet refusing to venture anywhere nearer. A stupid thought. One he would have been told off for in Eichen but Stiles just couldn’t help but feel like if Scott were still in Beacon Hills, if he was still living at home, then he’d know Stiles was there. He’d hear or smell or whatever- whatever.

This was stupid. 

Scott was probably in college. Even if he wasn’t there was no reason Stiles shouldn’t be able to walk the rest of the way to his house. It wasn’t like they had a restraining order against him. Stiles knew, he’d checked while he was signing up for his GED classes.

He could feel his heart in his throat again. Enough so he almost turned back when a familiar looking car rounded the corner. He didn’t even think, just waved his hand and the car stopped, Melissa poking her head out moments later. “Stiles?” 

Normal. He could be normal. “Hey Mrs McCall.” He hurried the last few steps over to her window. “I was actually coming to see you. Wanted to thank you for the flowers.”

Melissa’s brows raised, “You got them?” 

Yeah, Stiles supposed everyone in this scenario assumed his dad was going to throw them out. Which he had. But, “Yeah. I got them. They were very… flower-y”

Melissa smiled, “I know you’re not a flower person but I just didn’t know what to bring around. Oh it’s so good to see you.” The door opened, Melissa stepping out, arms outstretched and for a moment Stiles leaned over to her.

Until he remembered, well, Scott. Scott and Stiles’s stupid, diagnosed, paranoia. He leaned away, sticking his hand out instead. Melissa would wash it before she went home. “You’re probably headed off to work huh?” She was wearing her scrubs. 

“Unfortunately,” she huffed, shaking his hand with a smile. “Some things never change.”

He hummed. He probably didn’t have long so, well, “I er, actually had another reason for coming over.”

“Let me guess, Scott,” and Stiles could practically taste the air becoming uncomfortable.

“Yeah. Er, I don’t-” he let a breath out, starting again, “My dad he er, we both want to keep me being back kind of quiet for a while. I don’t- did he tell you?” It sounded like something his dad would do. Just because there wasn’t a restraining order did not mean dad wouldn’t warn Melissa when Stiles was out. 

“He didn’t,” Melissa said slowly, a hint of accusation in there. Not at him however. “But you might want to consider running at night if you don’t want your neighbours gossiping.”

Oh. Right. He forgot about his neighbours. “Well, er, you know. You know I’m back,” obviously. “And if Scott, if he doesn’t know I’d really appreciate you, maybe, not telling him?”

“Oh?” 

“I want to tell him myself,” Stiles blurted out. “Make the first move. I… I have a lot to make up for.”

She shook her head before Stiles even finished. “Stiles no. Really. You have nothing to make up for. What happened was,” she shook her head again, “It was out of all our control.” Sure. Out of everyone’s control. “And I know Scott would be so happy to see you.”

“Yeah.” Sure he would. “But yeah, I’d, it’s important to my recovery for me to do it in my own time. I know you mean well but I just, I don’t want to be ambushed before I’m ready.” And yeah, maybe he shouldn’t have used the ‘recovery’ card, but if it worked it worked and it did look to be working.

“Of course,” she said. “Of course you need to do this on your own terms. I shouldn’t have come over last-”

“No, no, it was so good to see you.” Necessary even. “And it’ll be so good to see Scott. Just not yet?”

“You got it,” she promised. “And I actually have to,” she pointed towards her car.

“Right.” Work. Something he should be doing right now. If life had panned out like it was supposed to. “Hey er, just so I know, did Scott get into college? My dad hasn’t told me anything.”

“UCLA,” Melissa nodded. “He’s vacationing in Florida as far as I know but he said he’s going to be back before he goes back to college.”

Oh good. “Great!” No Scott. “I’m so happy for him,” he remembered to add. “For both of you,” He finally let himself hug her, grinning from ear to ear. “Okay, I’ll let you work. Have fun or whatever you feel like when you’re working.” He waved, sprinting back home. 

It was only when he got there that he realised Melissa hadn’t, in fact, given him a date when Scott would be home. Back before classes could mean anything. Scott could be back the day before just to visit and then drive on down to campus. Or he could be commuting. He could be coming home next week which meant Stiles had, what, three weeks with Scott in Beacon Hills? 

Three weeks.

He was so stupid. 

Maybe he could get dad to ask Melissa. Or maybe dad knew himself. If Melissa was popping around to hand out flowers her and dad had to still be on speaking terms. He pondered on it all the way into the kitchen, scarfing down the breakfast dad hadn’t gotten up to eat yet and starting on another.

He’d figure it out. 

His routine kept him busy the rest of the day. That, and helping dad get ready for his first day back at work tomorrow. “You don’t have to do this,” Dad sighed, but hadn’t actually taken the spatula out of Stiles’s hands so really, he didn’t mean it.

“If I don’t make you lunch, who knows what you’ll be eating. I don’t even want to know what your doctor’s been saying since I’ve been gone.” He dragged some containers out, portioning the salad and chicken in them. Real chicken too. God he’d missed it. He labelled dad’s, setting it aside to cool before dragging the rest of it to the table. “I might be a bit out of practice, but it smells good so,” he handed a fork over, digging into it. 

Dad sighed before starting on his own. “Speaking of tomorrow, are you going to be okay?”

“Okay?” 

“On your own,” dad clarified. “I know it’s probably a little scary to think about.” and dad wasn’t wrong. Tomorrow would be the first time he was alone, properly alone, for more than an hour in three years. “In fact, why don’t you come to the station with me? You can hang out at the desk, see everyone. I know they’ve been excited to see you.”

It was tempting. It really was. But, “I’m not a kid anymore. I have to work this out. I’m well enough to work this out and I need to be alone at some point so,” he shrugged, “Besides, you’re not leaving me overnight.” Dad had made sure he wasn’t working nights for the foreseeable future actually. “So I’ll be fine.” The full moon wasn’t for another five days as well. He was more than fine. 

Dad still tried convincing him to come along the rest of the night however. He even woke Stiles up from his meds induced slumber to make sure that yes, he could look after himself for a few hours and no, the idea of bossing some deputy’s around did not make him want to come to the station. Well, it kind of did. But Stiles was adamant to see today through. This would be the real test. This would be what set him on the rest of his life’s course.

So he got up with only minimal difficulty with his zombie limbs, and waved his dad off at the door. 

The feeling of being alone set in faster than he would have hoped. In fact, he’d no sooner closed the front door before he could feel his skin prickling. Taking a deep breath, Stiles went the logical route. That being he locked everything and anything that could let someone into the house. Doors, windows, even the attic he checked and locked and even barricaded before settling himself back on his bed. No one was getting in. No one had a reason to get in and no one had a means so he was fine. 

He found his phone afterwards. The new one dad had splurged on even when Stiles reminded him he had a clutz for a son. Making sure it was charged, he kept the location on and shoved it in his pocket, waiting for the pin pricks to settle down before turning to his timetable and seeing what was first.

Clean. Cook. He couldn’t exercise outside so he did it inside. Cleaning some more. Showering. Cooking. He seemed to do it all faster than he was used to. The gaps between waiting for the next hour to chime and the next chore to finish growing longer and longer before Stiles had abandoned his timetable altogether to settle, waiting at the door like a dog. 

If dad had something to say, he kept it to himself when he came through the door. In fact he even smiled at Stiles, telling him, “Honestly thought it wasn’t real,” as he hung his coat up, hugging Stiles tight when he was done. Stiles sunk into it, the stress of the day slipping off him. “You eat yet?”

“No, I was waiting for you. I made lasagne,” healthy lasagne. But any kind of lasagne tasted good to dad so Stiles easily had half of it gone before the night was up, the two of them catching up with their day before heading off to bed.

That was his new routine. Wake up, wave his dad off, and then alone, so alone, for hours on end before his dad came back and things went back to normal. It was suffocating. But Stiles lived. He lived through day after day because that was what normal people did and he could, he would be normal again.

Five days into his new routine he found his dad coming home earlier than usual. A short shift, he said and Stiles believed him. He believed that his dad would demand a shorter shift today. That he would make sure he would come home before it got dark. Tonight was the full moon after all, and all where his ‘delusion’s started. Stiles wasn’t stupid. He knew the doctors at Eichen had probably made sure his dad knew what happened on full moons. So he wasn’t too surprised when his dad didn’t call it a night like he usually would when it hit nine. Instead, he loaded up another movie, near begging Stiles to just consider the popcorn they had lying in the cupboards.

Stiles gave in just as the howls started up.

In Eichen, there was one patient who’d heard about why Stiles was in. He’d hated that man. As if it wasn’t bad enough Stiles sometimes heard howls outside his window, every month, without fail he’d hear that man too. Howling. All night he’d do it. Even with the nurses told him to shut up he’d continue howling and sometimes, when the meds were off or not working properly, they’d just… some people didn’t go into Eichen crazy, but they didn’t come out sane either.

“Hey,” broke through the howls, dad murmuring to him until Stiles finally looked away from the curtains. There was a hand over his own, “Hey it’s okay. It’s just a coyote. Or some poor dog who probably got locked out of his owner’s house,” he laughed. Or tried to. Dad tugged him until he was lying up against his side, hugged in a way he hadn’t been allowed in three years. “It’s okay. It’s just a dog.”

Just a dog. It was just a dog. Dad was right, it was just a dog. It had to be just a dog because even if it wasn’t Scott was in Florida. But Scott wasn’t the only wolf- no. He was being stupid. It was a dog. Scott was in Florida. He was fine. He was alive and dad was here and he couldn’t move. Every inch of him was locked tight.

Dad turned the volume up. So loud the neighbours came knocking more than once. But they always left in the end, and the TV stayed loud. All night it stayed loud, dad keeping Stiles as close as he could through it all.

Exhaustion kept him in bed most of that next day. Dad, for some reason, had thought he could go into work, and he did. But Stiles found him dead on his feet when he eventually trudged home that evening. He could tell before his dad even opened his mouth that, “I won’t be doing that again.” Stiles found him snoring on the sofa before dinner even heated up.

Nearly collapsing at his desk had the sheriff's department giving dad the day off the next day. A good thing too since, “We’re out of food.” Save some rather unhealthy options that were there before Stiles even came home, they’d used up almost anything organic and or healthy in the house these last two weeks. Dad got that look on his face as soon as Stiles announced their predicament. The one that said ‘maybe I can convince him to get take out’. Which, yeah, no, that wasn’t happening. “I can take the jeep myself,” he warned.

Dad hopped to his feet, shoving his plate in the sink, “Give me fifteen minutes to shower.”

Stiles gave him ten, waiting in his car the last five in case dad even thought he could con Stiles into forgetting about their lack of food. It had happened before. Dad could be a slippery son of a bitch when he wanted to be.

The grocer’s wasn’t too packed for a weekday. It certainly meant the shelves were stocked, Stiles taking his sweet time looking at all the sunny products that promised a taste of true summer fun as they made their way around to the produce. 

“I think I might get a job,” Stiles decided when dad loaded up basically the same products as last time. 

“A job?” Dad mused. “What kind of job.”

Stiles shrugged. “Any job.” he couldn’t be too picky. “You know, start pulling my weight and-”

“Stiles,” dad interrupted, “I’m going to say this just one more time. You’ve just gotten home, I don’t expect anything from you right now other than getting comfortable. Now if you want a job, my advice would be to wait until you know your classes. It’s all well and good wanting to work, but if they can’t fit around your schedule then there’s no point getting one now.”

Which was a solid point. “I’ll wait then.”

Dad smiled. “And hey, if you are serious about getting a job when your classes start I know for a fact we need someone manning the radios at the station-”

“Dad-”

“I know, I know, nepotism at its finest,” dad rolled his eyes, “but it’ll give you work experience, a bit if spare change and it’ll keep me from worrying about you. So please, just consider it.”

Three years ago he would have said no. Now, “I’ll think about it,” he promised. “And that’s the only thing I’m thinking of today,” he said, grabbing the jerky his dad had trojan horsed into the cart, “What did I say about processed meat?”

“I miss processed meat,” dad sighed, Stiles shuffling them away from the rest of the goodies before his dad could grab another thing he’d have to put back. Honestly it was like shopping with a toddler.

They made the rounds, and yes, maybe Stiles relented on one treat for his dad. One. But that was just because he knew that his dad was sneaking junk food at work, and at least this way Stiles could sort of control which junk dad would be consuming. Especially if Stiles guilted him into taking it into work in the first place. Hopefully he could get it home before it was consumed.

The checkouts, even with barely anyone in the store, were full to the brim with people stocking up for their barbeques or pool parties or whatever people did these days. Urgh he was starting to sound like an old man. 

Whatever the case, Stiles settled in for the long haul when he caught a flicker of strawberry blonde float past him.

Lydia Martin. “As I live and breathe,” she was in town. She was looking good. Really good. Whatever she was doing with her life was obviously making her happy. 

“Ah hell,” broke the spell surrounding Lydia, Stiles frowning up at his dad before following his eyeline to-

Scott. 

Scott was here.

He was older, tanner and had filled into his shoulders way more than he had at sixteen, but it was definitely Scott. Scott who was looking right at him. 

Stiles heard the jingle before a key was thrust in front of his nose. “Go wait in the car,” dad murmured, shaking it twice before Stiles took it off him and legged it out of the store. 

Scott was here. Scott was in town. Scott could have been in town for days. He didn’t look like he’d just come from the airport. He could have been here for the full moon. If he was here for the full moon then-

No. No, “You’re being stupid, you’re being stupid you’rebeingstupid,” he could feel his chest tightening. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. He should have asked his dad, why hadn’t he asked his dad when Scott was coming home? 

The door opened, Stiles flinging himself as far as he could into the seatbelt before dad grabbed his shoulder. “Okay we can do this,” dad said, pulling him closer he talked him through as many distraction techniques as he could, and usually they would work. They’d worked in Eichen. But Scott was right there! He was in that stupid store and, “Right,” the car started, peeling off as soon as it did until dad stopped a good mile over. 

It took twenty minutes all in all for him to calm down enough to breathe properly. Another ten for him to relax back into his seat, the world brightening away from that dangerous darkness until he was just exhausted. 

“Better?” Dad made sure before starting the car again.

Stiles nodded, finding himself at home before he knew it. At home and in the house, his dad helping him sit down with no sign of going back out. “Where’s the food?”

Dad hesitated before telling him, “I’m gonna go back for it later.”

“But-”

“We didn’t pay for it, and the manager there knows I wouldn’t just abandon a cart without reason. It’s not the first time I’ve done it. So it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“But-”

“Stiles,” Dad insisted, “It’s fine.”

He nodded, flopping down onto the sofa properly. Curled up with a cushion beneath his head he said, “I didn’t know he was back.”

“I know,” Dad sighed. “I should have told you.” Which meant Dad talked to Melissa. Probably when he was out of the house since Stiles hadn’t heard him on the phone once since Stiles had come home. 

Stiles didn’t even want to ask but, “When did he come back?”

The silence was all he needed to know. Scott had been back for the full moon. Dad probably thought it would have been worse for Stiles if he’d known that. To be fair to him it probably would have been. “He’s going back to college in two weeks,” dad said eventually. “That’s way before…” the next full moon Stiles filled in.

He sniffed into his pillow. Two weeks. It was doable. Still, “Please don’t let me near him,” Stiles made his dad promise. 

If dad noticed the odd phrasing, he didn’t mention it. He just nodded and fetched Stiles the remote. An hour of mindless TV and Stiles was near sleep enough for dad to leave him home alone to fetch their groceries. Or, that was the plan. 

No sooner had dad opened the door did Stiles hear a rustle of bags. Poking his head over the back of the sofa he saw dad carrying a few in. He hadn’t… “Did I fall asleep?” the TV was still playing the same bit it had been before he looked away. Yet there dad was pulling open the cans of tuna Stiles had picked out. 

“Er no,” dad fetched the rest in, waving a slip of paper, “Derek saw us leaving. Guess he thought to save me another trip out.”

“Derek?” As in, “Hale?”

Dad nodded, handing the paper over. “He works at the station. Got into a bit of trouble a few years back but he’s a good kid. Couldn’t get him anything on the front lines but apparently he likes administration so,” dad shrugged, emptying out really everything they’d had in their cart. 

Dad was working with Derek Hale. As in werewo- no. No. He crumpled the note up, diving back to his cushion and forcing himself to just not think. Derek hadn’t hurt his dad. Derek had even gotten their groceries. If dad had been around him for years and nothing has happened then it stood to reason that Stiles was just being stupid. He was gravitating towards thinking patterns he should steer clear of.

He gave up on sleeping and ended up taking over unpacking all the bags. Then cooking. Then just generally fussing around the house, Stiles noticing when dad slipped into his room, a low rumble of noise starting after the door had closed. He was probably talking to Melissa. Which made Stiles even more antsy.

He needed something to do. Something that wasn’t Derek or Scott related. The computer was out. Reading he wouldn’t be able to focus on right now. TV meant sitting. He ended up finding a workout program online, following along until he was literally dripping with sweat before calling it a day and curling back up on the sofa.

He should have known, however, that it wouldn’t end, or even play out, like Stiles had hoped. He wasn’t nine anymore. Hell, he wasn’t a tiny thirteen year old anymore, which meant that falling asleep on the couch meant he stayed there all night, dad only throwing a blanket over him. The point was, he was in a prime position that next morning to hear the knock on the front door. Reaching for his phone, the clock said nine. Dad would be at work. Stiles couldn’t hear him upstairs anyway, and if he looked, he could see a note on the fridge. 

The knock came again. Stiles flopped back onto his cushion. It wasn’t like it would be for him.

Whoever was at the front door was persistent however, as not even a minute later they knocked again. This time saying, loud enough for him to hear, “I know you’re there Stiles.”

Scott.

“I just want to talk,” Scott said. 

There was a fifty fifty logical chance that Scott was bluffing. If he’d come by early enough he probably could have seen dad drive off. If he hadn’t seen Stiles with him then yeah, sure, Stiles was in. If not, then Scott was guessing purely on the fact that Stiles probably had nowhere else to be right now. Still, the jeep wasn’t in the driveway, so, again, he could be out. That was logically however. Illogically, Scott knew he was home because he could hear Stiles. Literally hear every breath he took. He probably knew where, exactly, in the house he was. 

Another knock, “Stiles?” 

“I’ve called my dad,” Stiles called, not moving an inch. He didn’t think he could. But Scott, logically, didn’t know that. “He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“You haven’t called your dad,” Scott scoffed.

“And how do you know that?” Stiles muttered. Low enough Scott definitely wouldn’t have been able to hear him through the door. 

There was silence. Stiles could practically hear the gears turning in Scott’s head. Either he hadn’t heard Stiles and the silence on Stiles’s end was growing into a serious enough threat for Scott to take seriously. Or, he had heard him, and if he had heard Stiles then he couldn’t say anything either. He admitted it and he admitted everything. 

So Scott didn’t say anything. Not pertaining to that anyway. With one last, slow knock he said, “I’ll come by later. I really do just want to talk Stiles.”

“Well I don’t want to talk to you!” burst out of him. But he didn’t. If he never spoke to Scott again he’d be thankful. “So just go away. Don’t come back.” Since Stiles was sadly human he didn’t know whether Scott had left or not until his limbs had thawed enough for him to get up. The peephole showed no one, but Stiles wasn’t taking any chances. Naturally, his dad had his cell on quiet when he was at work, which meant phoning up the station, which meant talking to people who kept telling him how nice it was to hear his voice several times over before he was eventually passed over to his dad. His dad who was beyond pissed to hear Scott had been over.

“Just don’t answer the door,” he said. “Keep everything locked. I’ll phone Melissa again. He never should have come around Stiles.”

“Yeah well he did,” and he’d probably do it again. He was probably lurking outside of Stiles’s window actually, which was partly why Stiles hadn’t stepped foot on any part of upstairs since he’d woke up. Which was kind of becoming a problem since he hadn’t showered last night and things were definitely smelling on him. 

There was a pause on his dad’s end. “You want me to come get you?”

He’d officially be outing himself to Beacon Hills. But, “Could you?” he’d deal with it. 

“Be ready when I beep.”

Stiles chanced upstairs after that, rushing through a shower and a change of clothes before waiting, key poised, for his dad to beep. As soon as he did Stiles near ran out the house, buckling himself up in record time as they set off towards the station. It was a quiet ride. Dad probably knew what this was costing him. Even if he didn’t, Stiles could practically feel the pissed off aura he was projecting, his hands gripping the wheel tight as they turned into a group of people waiting by the entrance.

“Big day?” Stiles guessed.

Dad finally relaxed. “They’re excited to see you.”

“Me?” Oh. Huh. To think he thought half of them were bluffing.

Thankfully cops didn’t believe mental illness was catching since Stiles was hugged more times in those first five minutes than, well, let’s just say it had been a while. There were some new faces splashed amongst the old, but even them had something nice to say to him. “Your dad just goes on and on about you,” one of them told him. “He couldn’t wait for you to come home.” Or, “You should have seen his face when they called to say he could come get you.” A lot of them filled him in on what he’d missed while he’d been gone. 

It was nice being around people again.

Nicer still to be cooped up in his dad’s office, a heavy book placed in his lap as dad tried to keep his case files away from him. The ruckus outside was familiar in a way Stiles had long since gotten used to. That tinge of violence. Sometimes camaraderie. People poking their heads in every now and then. Maybe letting dad get him a job here wouldn’t actually be a bad thing. Sure, it would still be nepotism, but tonnes of people worked for their parents.

It was better than being at home, that was for sure.

“...Maybe I’m just being dramatic,” Stiles sighed, he’d been rambling on about Scott’s visit for a good ten minutes now. “I mean, I was the one in the wrong,” apparently. According to doctors and nurses and Melissa and his own dad who’d taken him for a check up and had basically left him there for three years. “He deserves an apology.”

“That boy deserves nothing from you,” Dad huffed. Stiles glanced up to find his dad furiously staring into the wider office. 

“But-”

“He shouldn’t have been encouraging you. He certainly-” dad shook his head. “You have a right to be angry Stiles. There was a way Scott should have gone about things and that night. That wasn’t right. Even Scott’s mom agrees with me. Or, she did,” he sighed, Stiles sensing the phone call yesterday had not gone over so well. Or maybe it had and Scott was just acting without his mom knowing. He used to do that a lot even if Scott did say Stiles was the instigator and father of bad decisions. “Listen, you keep your distance, he keeps his and it doesn’t matter who was in the wrong. You have your whole life ahead of you Stiles, you don't need to fall back into bad patterns. I’m not gonna let you.”

“Thanks,” Stiles murmured.

Dad nodded, pushing Stiles away when he noticed how close he’d gotten during their talk. It looked like he wasn’t gonna be looking at any dead bodies today.

Around lunch dad tried passing off what Stiles had made him last night onto Stiles, which, nice try. Stiles saw his game. But, “It’s fine. I actually grabbed a few things before I left,” namely his own lunch since Stiles knew he wouldn’t be leaving the station without his dad that day. 

Dad looked more than put out, sending Stiles to fetch them both something to drink as he picked despondently at his lunch.

It was an effort making his way to the coffee machine. Back into the throng of people he got caught up twice in interesting pieces of gossip before his eyes fell on a rather nice ass currently grabbing something from the lower half of the fridge. “Fucking pills,” Stiles muttered, knowing he’d literally be able to do nothing with his glorious image before him. His doctors said it was perfectly natural. Stiles thought it was perfectly cruel. Even more so now as those pants stretched that little bit tighter before the man straightened up and- oh my no! Just no!

He knew. He’d connected the dots yesterday that Derek freaking Hale was working for his dad. He knew okay. But it was one thing to slowly panic about it at home and a whole other thing to see the guy who, last they’d met, had been looking shady as hell lurking around Scott and being generally creepy in the woods now standing, in uniform, in front of him. 

These two things should not coincide yet there they were, and there he was, stuck, panicked and trying to remember that dad wouldn’t have hired him if he was actually a serial killer. Dad would have known too right? He would have figured it out. Derek couldn’t possibly have just gotten away with murder and was using the station as a way to monitor his own case right? Right? Right.

Derek’s shoulders slumped as soon as he finished up his coffee. Almost as if he knew he was being watched, he turned slowly, raising a brow Stiles’s way before backing up in as wide a berth as possible back to whatever corner of the station dad had him in.

It was only when he was out of sight that Stiles could move. Even then, he felt like he was being watched the entire time he made the fastest cup of coffee in the world. His hands were shaking by the time he got back. The coffee tasted weird too, but Stiles wasn’t going back for another. 

His dad did, but Stiles was happy suffering in silence. Silence was better than the alternative. 

He made his way back to his book eventually. Derek didn’t try and talk to him after all. Dad’s office only had one entrance as well. Stiles could literally see if there were any threats coming. So his day at the station? Successful.

So successful he didn’t think twice about tagging along that next day. Or the day after. He didn’t even freeze up at seeing Derek at the coffee maker on day four, and with four days down, well, Stiles could easily see himself waiting out the rest of the nine days before Scott left for school. 

Day six dawned with an email pinging through right as Stiles was sneakily pouring in more of his own salad into his dad’s. Sign ups were finally available. There was a link, as well, to sites and local tutors, Stiles realising that the test was literally that, a test. No classes. 

Oh God no.

He signed his life away anyway. He needed a high school diploma. He’d just, he’d figure it out. But even dad had a pinched look on his face when Stiles told him that there were no real classes to help people prepare for the tests.

“But there are tutors,” dad said, looking over Stiles’s shoulder.

“Yup.” But tutors cost money and Stiles would be damned if dad was spending more money than he had to. It was bad enough his meds were running out. The bills from Eichen were starting to pour in as well. He’d heard dad, more than once, hesitate on an offer to take the night shift. “I need a job,” if only so he could pay for his school himself. 

“Well…” and yeah, Stiles supposed he had time now to actually take dad up on his offer. If it was a sincere offer and not just something he was finding around the station for Stiles to do. “It’s not,” Dad promised. “Trust me, there aren’t a lot of people that want to be talking on the radio all day.” 

“Who’ve you got on it now then?” and boy would Stiles live to regret asking.

Derek Hale, since of course it would be Derek Hale, was looking bored beyond hell slouched in front of the radios when Dad took them around. “Derek takes the day shift,” dad said, tugging Stiles slightly closer until he could introduce, “I don’t know if you remember my son. I think you’d just come to town when he went away.” and what a polite way of saying sent to a nut house.

Derek nodded anyway, no hint of recognition in his eyes. Which, well, rude. Stiles always made an impression. But, then again, this was three years ago. Stiles was probably just a tiny blip in the faces he’d stared at since coming back. It also wasn’t Derek Stiles went completely nuts on. Really, that interaction in the woods was probably the most they’d seen of one another, and Stiles had definitely ingrained his mental image more than Derek had back. “It’s nice to hear you’re back,” Derek offered.

“Thanks,” Stiles choked out. 

“Are you taking your dad up on the job then?” Derek asked.

“Er… maybe.”

Dad nudged him, “He’s only asking so he doesn’t have to take the night shift.” and oh, right. Stiles guessed if he was working with dad, dad wouldn’t have to leave him home alone at night. Night shift paid better as well. “Of course it would only be a few times through the week, and you’d still have to find someone to cover the full moon.”

“The-” seriously? Derek had the full moon off? Derek? 

Dad caught him before he could even try and think about that too much, “He’s not fond of the crazies that always come out.”

“My sister was murdered under a full moon,” Derek offered like that was an explanation. Which, sure, yeah, it kind of was. But Stiles remembered. He remembered Scott and- no. Okay, bad way of thinking. Refocus. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Stiles said.

Dad gave him a pat on the back. “Tell you what, why don’t you spend the rest of the day here? Derek can show you what you’ll be doing and you can see if it’s the right fit. Sound good?”

Even if it didn’t, which it didn’t dad, he wasn’t really in a position to say no. Every time he thought about it he thought again to the tutors he was going to have to hire, his meds, his bills. Food. Clothes. Gas even. He’d get work experience here. He’d have something to do with his day, or night, or whenever dad was thinking of making him work here. Besides, he wouldn’t be working with Derek he’d probably shadow a few days and then they’d never have to see each other again. So, “Yeah, sounds good dad.”

Dad pat him on the back again, and all too soon Stiles found himself alone with Derek freaking Hale.

“You can pull up a chair,” Derek sighed around the two minute mark of Stiles just not knowing what had led him here. Here as in life and also here as in the station.

He took a seat as far as he comfortably could without looking like he was outright avoiding Derek. Then, well, the scanner was boring for a reason. The phones were manned in the room over, Stiles able to hear them going again and again yet only one person came out in that half hour of him sitting there to hand Derek a slip of paper. 

Finishing directing the officers on the other end Derek shrugged and said, “That’s about it really. The radios are all numbered, and there’s always a sheet telling you who’s on the other end. It changes on every shift, and you have to make sure you get it but,” he shrugged again, “that’s it.”

“It’s er…” he nodded. 

“Boring,” Derek agreed. “The day shift always is.” 

Oh. Great. So that meant the night shift wasn’t. 

An hour and Derek only had three calls to send over, one of which was to the fire services after someone got their numbers mixed up. Even then it was for a cat stuck in a tree. It looked like things had calmed down since Stiles had left. No more random animal attacks. Or whatever else it really was.

Another half hour and Derek slid a puzzle book out from where he’d probably hid it when he saw dad come over. “Lot of free time huh?” Stiles guessed.

Derek hummed, “Good for studying.”

“Studying?” 

Derek wasn’t looking at him as he murmured, “Your dad mentioned you’re trying to finish high school.”

Which, okay, he guessed dad might have mentioned that around the station. With what he’d heard people tell him his dad was basically gossipping about him twenty four seven when Stiles wasn’t around. Still, he couldn’t help the nagging feeling at the back of his head that said Derek might have found out a different way. That it was conveniently brought up just hours after Stiles had gotten his email about sign ups. “Yeah. I thought they’d be classes.”

Derek shook his head. “There’re always a few here and there. Mostly it’s just students setting them up though.”

“Right.”

Derek filled in another few words in his crossword before slowly offering, “I have books.”

“Books?”

Almost as if he didn’t believe he was saying it he explained, “My sister made me get my GED in New York. When we left. Er, I still have the books somewhere. Saves you buying them.” Then, “They might be a little outdated,” he tacked on the end.

Nevertheless, creep or not, “I’d actually really appreciate that.” textbooks were expensive and Stiles had two years of school to catch up on. “Yeah, please. I’d more than appreciate it.”

“I’ll bring them tomorrow then.” 

They lapsed back into silence. 

At least until dad came to get him. With more than nice words Derek’s way for babysitting Stiles the two of them set off home, dad practically preening when Stiles told him about the textbooks. “He’s a good kid. I’m glad you two are getting along.” and was Stiles missing something? Did dad secretly adopt Derek while he was gone?

“It’s just a few books dad. I’m sure he’s just doing it to get into your good graces anyway.” Everyone knew the boss’s favourite got certain perks. Like every full moon off for the foreseeable future. 

“Well it’s working.” They pulled into their driveway, dad fidgeting with his keys before handing over one that was as familiar as Stiles’s fingers.

He could feel a smile working its way onto his face. “Are you serious?” 

“It’s about time you get her back on the road.”

“Yes!” His jeep. His baby. His independence!

“Some rules,” dad called out as Stiles finished hugging the life out of the bonnet. “No driving to the preserve. No parking where you shouldn’t…”

“Yeah yeah,” he knew the rules. Although the preserve one was new. As was the job one dad lay on him. Apparently dad was trying to gain him some street cred again. Meaning they weren’t going to be travelling to work together. Maybe it was bad for the environment, but, as dad told him, they wouldn’t always be on the same shift. Dad promised he was going to get him some day as well as night shifts, and while there may just be an hour between the pair of them arriving, if dad had to zoom out for an immediate emergency at least Stiles wouldn’t be late to the station. “You’re only making me drive separately so I won’t see you sneaking into In and Out.”

“I am neither agreeing or denying that statement.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes, following his dad inside.

The rota with Stiles’s name newly attached was finalised in the next couple of days. As was buying some new boots to go with his new uniform. He never felt more like he was dressing up than he did walking into the station for his first shift. The others didn’t agree, but Stiles himself felt like he was all of five years old as he ambled towards where Derek was finishing a wordsearch. 

Derek looked up before he got too close, hopping out of his chair with a warning to those manning the phones they were going to have to call it in themselves for a while as he took Stiles to the front desk.

“Sign in,” Derek nodded to a folder, Stiles jotting his information down before listening to the brief. Apparently every day he came into work he needed to sign in, both for legal and record reasons. If something went wrong, they needed a list of those inside the building so they knew who to look for. “It sounds scary but it just means if there’s a fire we can do an accurate headcount.”

Which, “Sure.” That was why. It had nothing to do with the incident a few years ago when they had someone impersonate an officer. 

Other admin could be found on the front desk. Namely the shift sheet Stiles needed to copy before he started his own. The rota was all well and good, but people chopped and changed almost every hour. Someone could be calling in sick, or covering or all sorts which meant they needed the sheet and they needed it to be accurate to the hour. 

After the front desk came the phone room. He had to count and make sure every online phone had a person attached. If there was someone missing Stiles might have to fill in on occasion. Well, Derek would. “You need training to actually man the phones. If you’re sticking around longer than a month I’m sure your dad will put you in for it.”

Stiles nodded, following Derek around the station. The break room, the coffee machine, everywhere he really knew just only now he was one of those cogs working it and not the hyperactive little kid screaming at his dad to please let him drive the cruiser.

Once everything was accounted for they finally settled by the radios, the chatter coming through nothing to really take note of. The radios were however, Derek adjusting them until Stiles could hear the chatter clearly. “You want to keep it at this volume at all times. Sometimes calls come in from cops on duty rather than phones. If we need to arrange more foot traffic this is where you’re likely to hear it.”

Stiles nodded, he could feel his neck crick from how often he’d been doing it. Then, “You didn’t have it as loud as this.”

Derek’s eyes narrowed slightly before shrugging, “I wasn’t manning the radios. This is the volume you’re supposed to have it at anyway.”

Stiles let it drop. Mainly because after no one came to tell them about an emergency, Derek dug beneath his desk and handed over a sizable box of books. 

“As promised.”

Sure enough there were chemistry, history, even english books stacked up in there. Stiles even spotted some notebooks. It was… sweet. In a way. Notes already taken and for Stiles to peruse through if he needed to. “Thanks.” Now he just needed to work on actually studying.

Stiles could feel Derek chewing on his next words. They came out anyway, “If you need any help. I can… help. I guess.”

“Oh you really are trying to get into my dad’s good books,” Stiles laughed.

After a moment Derek smiled, “Well, if it works,” he shrugged.

“Fair enough.”

It wasn’t as awkward after that. Boring, sure. But Derek wasn’t much of a conversationalist. Something sixteen year old Stiles would have found infuriating considering they were trapped together for an immeasurable period of time. Present day Stiles however, found it rather nice not having to talk. Not having to sit there and fend off questions like he had with the rest of the station about how his stay in Eichen really was.

He even grabbed one of Stiles’s new books out for him when ten minutes stretched to fifteen. The rest of the day he alternated between fetching a new sign in sheet, listening to how different codes were actually sent out to officers and reading about the wonders of American History.

He was tired in a way he didn’t expect when he parked his car home that day. It had been long and boring sure, and not a lot really happened, but Stiles felt like he’d actually done something with his day. He’d been a member of society again. Dad was happy too. He crowded Stiles as soon as he came in an hour later asking how everything had gone. Whether he had any questions and if Derek was nice to him.

He rolled his eyes at that one. “Derek was fine dad.” He still looked a bit murdery, but with the uniform on it actually kind of worked for him. He went back to doing the rest of his evening routine before any more questions about his dad’s secret adopted son Derek came cropping up. Which, yes, was still a joke, but Stiles was seriously starting to wonder if dad had just imprinted on the next sad looking boy as soon as his own was locked away.

He thought so even more that next day. Dad had gone in earlier than Stiles after something through the night required the sheriff’s attention. By the time Stiles arrived for work it was mostly dealt with, the cops working the night shift finally clocking out, some of them stinking of sewers. He knocked on dad’s office, sign in sheet tight in his fist when lo and behold there was Derek Hale swapping out his dad’s Mcmuffin for something healthier.

Oh yeah. His dad had imprinted. Worse. He’d found himself a ‘Work Stiles’. Which was beyond funny. Of all the people to take under his wing, he could have found someone who didn’t fuss about his diet. But no. He chose the grumpiest looking man on the planet who turned out to be a secret health fanatic too.

Or, maybe not so secret Stiles realised as Derek took the sign in sheet off him. No one with an ass like that took short cuts with their diet.

“Did you bring a book?” Derek greeted him with.

“Algebra,” Stiles even held it up for inspection. He’d started it last night. Or, tried to. He did a few problems before the meds kicked in and he ended up passed out on top of it. Hopefully he’d have better luck at the station.

Except it turned out the radios needed their attention with clean up coordination. Stiles only got three problems done that whole afternoon. 

Come evening, Stiles was finally let loose on his own. He knew the codes from having grown up with his dad, and even if Derek had quizzed him on them numerous times the pair of them knew he could handle sprouting a few words off. With one last once over of the map, Derek making sure Stiles was aware of the closed roads he took in the new sign in sheet, handed it over and that was that. Derek was gone. 

He took a deep breath, rolling himself further towards the centre of the radios. This was it. This was how he proved he could be useful. 

He put his algebra book away, knowing for a fact he’d not even look at it. He had to focus. He could focus and he would, and if he was bored stiff for the next three hours then so be it. Just so long as he didn’t screw this up.

Three calls came his way in the span of an hour. Dad was right, nights really were worse. Most of them were domestic disputes as well. Which made sense. Stiles supposed a lot of people would be working through the day. At night, they were at home, drinking or whatever riled them up. Still, it was a little daunting for it to happen so quickly into his first block alone.

More domestic disputes came through, Stiles doing his best to remember where cars were patrolling and who would get there faster. By the time fights at bars and clubs broke out he’d only messed up twice, and to be fair to himself the other cops didn’t know he’d messed up. But he did, and all through his drive home he kept thinking about them. About if they’d been more serious. 

“First thing you gotta know when you work at the station,” dad told him when he lamented about his screw ups. “People call who they need in that situation. If someone’s hurt, they call an ambulance. We’re only there to keep the peace.”

“What if it had been a murderer?” Or a break in. Or some kind of threat where they needed the police because the violence hadn’t taken place yet.

Dad sighed. “Look, from what I heard before I left,” which was only an hour before Stiles, “You reacted quickly when you realised no one was responding. That’s the important part. And you’re a smart kid,” he used to be Stiles wanted to say, “you’re good at problem solving. Stiles I wouldn’t have given you the job if I didn’t think you could do it.”

Which he supposed was true. “It’s just… it’s a lot different than the day shift.”

“It is,” Dad agreed. “Which means it’ll keep you from getting bored. Don’t think I don’t know what Derek does half the day.”

He cracked a smile, letting dad congratulate him on his first day properly after that. 

With no more shadowing Stiles quickly found Derek’s lazy way of manning the radios impressive and not something to be taken lightly. Dad told him outright that he was just as hopeless as Stiles when he first started, but practice and good reflexes made the job easier and Stiles would get there when he got there. For now he just practiced his routes and codes again.

Thankfully he wasn’t completely on the night shift. Like dad promised he got Stiles on the day shift too, giving him a good day off in between to sort his meds out so he didn’t fall asleep on the job. When his day shifts came, Stiles did his best to study in the lull of crime. Study for school that was. It was only at night that he learned his codes and roads.

It was a dayshift anyway when he decided to actually figure adding chemistry equations together out. He got it. Kind of. Like he knew in practice how they blended together. It was just a lot of symbols and putting those symbols to a substance that hid itself in the periodic table that threw him for a loop. All those tiny numbers as well. 

At least he didn’t have to put up with Harris. 

Then again, even if Harris hated him at least Stiles had been in a classroom. He’d never realised how hard learning was outside of a school setting. If his ADHD was bad at sixteen in a controlled setting it was practically out of control now. 

That also could have something to do with the fact his meds were running out. Like, literally on his last four and Stiles could feel the phantom anxiety starting up at the prospect that they might have to go a few days before he could refill them. He was getting paid soon after all. He’d probably be able to afford them. Hopefully. 

God he hoped so.

There he was not focusing again. Slapping his cheeks he dragged one of Derek’s notebooks in front of him, the handwriting striking him as familiar before he even opened it up to the right page.

It was as he was glancing down, his understanding of equations getting slightly better, that he saw the little heart scribbled in at the margin. The heart with Allison scrawled in the middle.

This wasn’t Derek’s notebook.

Work called before he could drive himself into a panic. As soon as he sent a cruiser to deal with a pair of shoplifters he tried to logically think his way through this. Scott had to know Derek had his notebook. Maybe Derek had gone around asking people who would have been in Stiles’s year if they had any old books he could donate to Stiles. Or, it wasn’t like Derek was banned from interacting with Scott. Maybe they knew each other. They’d certainly been in each other’s orbits before Stiles went away. By that Stiles of course meant Derek being a creeper around them. Or Stiles thinking he was a creeper? Honestly he didn’t have a clue about what actually went on back then. Nor would anyone tell him.

The point was, Scott’s notebook didn’t mean anything. If anything, it was helping Stiles out of a predicament Scott had put him in the first place. Still, Stiles couldn’t help wondering if Derek had agreed to feed Scott information in exchange for the notebook. Scott could be very persistent when he wanted to be. More than once dad had taken the landline before Stiles could get to it, his face twisting and phone taken out of the room entirely. If it wasn’t Scott, some poor scam artist was getting a lungful.

It was probably nothing.

It was definitely nothing.

Stiles slid out the book of puzzles with Derek’s name scrawled on the cover. Flipping it open, he grabbed a post it. You know Scott??? There. Nothing too accusatory. 

Also Scott’s work for chemistry? Why? Scott was good at biology, Stiles gave him that, but chemistry? 

The notes were still good. Mainly because Scott’s idea of notetaking was writing down everything on the powerpoint. Including the diagrams. Well, what Stiles could see of the diagrams. Half of them were covered in little hearts and Allison’s name. 

He’d honestly forgot about his note to Derek. Well, that wasn’t true. He remembered he’d wrote it, but a lot had happened between one shift and the next. That being that Stiles got paid and found out that of course it couldn’t cover everything he needed it to. Adulting was so hard. He found out he either had enough money to keep his meds, or to help his dad pay for food and or bills. Bills that were the reason Stiles took meds to begin with.

He’d feel guilty no matter what he did. But at least buying his own pills meant that dad didn’t have as big a dent in his wallet as he usually did when Eichen called for their monthly collection.

Thankfully the sheriff’s department paid for gas. Even those working the radios. Otherwise Stiles would have had to beg his dad for rides to work. Which wasn’t a bad thing, but dad did have a point about getting to work on time. 

So when he did finally notice a sticky note attached to the workbook he’d left at work he thought for a good five minutes it was some sort of quiet reprimand. The hastily scrawled, It’s a silent truce at least answered that Derek knew Scott. Knew him but didn’t speak to him.

Phew.

Not that it mattered. Not really. Except it did very much so since Stiles had learned from his dad dodging calls and Melissa sometimes showing up at the station that Scott was at college but he came home on the weekends. A lot. In fact he was thinking of commuting and saving on rent. Apparently his veterinary degree meant he could still intern with Deaton.

Honestly it was like he was trying to purposefully antagonise Stiles into talking to him. 

Whatever the case, Derek wasn’t involved so Stiles didn’t have to worry. So he didn’t worry. He went back to studying as best he could, which wasn’t well at all, and working enough that maybe next month he could have enough to give a little to his dad. It wasn’t like he’d worked a complete month after all so maybe it was possible. He might have to do some math tonight. Maybe steal the rota for the next couple weeks and work it out. 

Urgh, he hated that he needed to make a budget.

He hated even more that he might actually need to buy an hour of a tutor’s time to help him focus on learning something. Sure, the test wasn’t until next year, but Stiles was missing everything from sixteen to eighteen. That was two whole years of school. Two whole years of missed tests and assignments and a whole host of other things other kids could do to get their grade up because they didn’t have to solely sit exams and he was talking in circles and he thought the whole point of this new medication was that it would keep him focused.

“Maybe I can sell my kidney,” His dad had to know people who could do it. Sure, they were probably behind bars but they were still people he knew.

“You are not selling your kidney,” Dad droned for the fifth time, nudging Stiles and their cart along. “If you need money-”

“I don’t.” Not from his dad anyway. “Maybe I could be a prostitute.”

Dad shot him a look, shoving the largest box of goldfish Stiles had ever seen into their cart. “Why are all your ideas illegal?”

“Because they’re the fastest?” 

Dad narrowed his eyes at him, shoving some red vines in his cart too. Stiles just put them back on the shelf as they rounded the next corner and into dad’s work son. Or, second work son since Stiles was also working at the station now.

Stiles had never seen someone so completely focused on slabs of meat before. So much so it was a wonder Derek even knew they were there. But he did, his hand raising in a wave, eyes never once leaving the meat counter. Stiles did his best not to distract him as he leaned around for the cut chicken, slowly backing away.

“You could invest in ear muffs,” Stopped him in his tracks.

“Ear muffs?” dad asked for them.

“For the full moon,” Derek clarified, finally picking himself up a roasted chicken. “Maybe some of those noise cancelling headphones.” He glanced at Stiles, “Scott told me a little about why you left.”

Oh did he now. “I don’t think ‘left’ is the right term to use here.”

Derek hummed in agreement. “The headphones are a good idea though. I know things can get loud around here.”

Stiles pursed his lips, “You know it’s strange, I never hear howling except on the full moon.”

“Stiles,” dad warned. But it was true. A lot of the time, even when he’d been younger, Beacon Hills was relatively quiet on a night. Nothing like how it is on a full moon. Especially a full moon these days. “Come on, don’t think like that.”

“I know,” Stiles forced out, plastering a smile on his face. “Headphones aren’t a bad shout though.” Too bad they were out of his price range. The good ones anyway. “And how is Scott? I thought you guys didn’t talk.”

Derek pulled a face Stiles actually believed. “He’s… agitated. And we don’t talk. He just talks at me and I ignore him.”

Stiles hummed. “Well alright then,” Derek didn’t seem like he was lying. He also seemed like the kind of person to ignore anyone and everyone who talked to him. 

“Stiles,” Dad nudged him, “Why don’t you go find some appropriate snacks. I need to talk to Derek about something.”

“If it’s about me-”

“Stiles.” He nudged Stiles again. Stiles groaned, but did as he was told, wandering over to the snack aisle then sprinting to the bottom and back up the next, doing his best to listen through the shelves to where he could hear his dad say, “talked to the McCalls.”

“Like I said, they do most of the talking,” Derek said. “Before you ask, my uncle dated Scott’s mom,” and that was definite disgust in his voice, “it’s less a want to talk to him and more his mom bullied me into looking out for him a couple of years ago and now he won’t leave me alone.”

“That does sound like Melissa,” Dad mused. He cleared his throat, “Look, I don’t know if you’ll see the kid before me. Could you just tell him to leave Stiles alone? He doesn’t need all this badgering. Especially not from him.”

“I’ll tell him,” Derek promised. “And I really did mean it. I know the howls drive me crazy too. Makes me think about-”

“I know,” dad murmured. “And thank you. Really. More than just for today as well.”

“It’s fine. I know how hard it is to pick your life back up after something horrible.”

There was silence, Stiles hearing the rough clacks of his dad’s boots. He dove back down the aisle, just about making it to the end and making an effort to look like he was deciding between soup cans when dad caught up.

“Good talk?” Stiles asked.

“Yup,” dad steered him back towards the snacks. “You know we really should have him around one night. Thank him properly for getting our groceries the other week.”

“Oh my god just marry him already.” 

Dad rolled his eyes but Stiles could see the smile lurking beneath the surface.

The phone calls stopped after their trip to the grocery store. Or, again, they happened when Stiles wasn’t around since he certainly didn’t hear them. Maybe that was because he was too busy going through the beginning stages of withdrawal but who was he to know?

“This is ridiculous,” Stiles sighed over the phone for the millionth time. “How can I continue taking my medications if I have to wait for them to run out completely to get some more? It’s not even all of them, I just need a refill on one.” His sleeping pills to be exact, the rest could go fuck themselves until it was their turn. Or not. “Look, if I can get all of them now I’d greatly appreciate it.”

The nurse on the other side said what she’d been saying for a good hour now. That they couldn’t give him medication when he still had some left. 

“But I’m not asking for all of them.” Really. He wasn’t. He didn’t think he even had the money to pay for all of them right now. Not after he’d had to splurge on new pants since, apparently, he was still growing. What the hell body, what the hell. “I just need my sleeping pills.

“I’m sorry Mr Stilinski-”

He held the phone away from his ear, banging his head on his desk before listening to her give out the same speech she’d given before. The American healthcare system. Honestly. What a joke. “So what am I supposed to do? Huh? Am I supposed to go rogue? Find an over the counter alternative and hope it doesn’t mess with the rest of the cocktail?”

“We’d really prefer for you to stick to your doctor prescribed-”

“That’s what I’m trying to do! Sorry, sorry, I’m not shouting,” he was really trying not to but the full moon was three days away and Stiles had kind of been hoping to sleep through this one.”it’s just, I have enough to last another five days with my other medications, it’s just this one that’s ran out.” Mainly because of his odd hours at the station. 

There was a knock on his door, dad poking his head in to ask, “How’s it going?”

Stiles just held his phone out. Screw it, he was getting nowhere, maybe his dad would have more luck.

It turned out he did not and when the dial tone rang Stiles realised he was going to have to spend the next five days without his sleeping pills. Seven since they’d need to order his prescriptions in.

“We’ll figure it out,” dad promised, and Stiles was that desperate he honestly hoped dad was right.

The first night without his sleeping pills was alright. His body just reacted how it normally did when he went to bed, still figuring out that there was something missing. That second night however? He found himself pacing the house. Literally. He paced up and down, around his room. To the kitchen, the living room. He felt like his skin was on fire. That there was something waiting for him if he closed his eyes for too long.

Dad called the pair of them in sick the rest of the week. Then, when he was informed that it kind of wasn’t going to be possible since there had been a disappearing minor, he enlisted other help. 

“You’re kidding.” He could practically feel the sweat dripping down his head as he stared Derek Hale down. “Dad it’s the full moon.”

“I know,” dad soothed, budging Stiles aside so Derek could wander in. “and Derek has kindly agreed that the both of you could use someone around them today.” They were hours away. Actual hours away from the moon rising. Dad clasped his shoulder, “I’ll be back before dark.”

“What if you’re not though,” Stiles hissed. Derek was here. Derek was in his house. He just- he didn’t-

“Stiles, it's only for four hours.”

“Plus the commute there and back,” which was at least forty minutes without traffic. 

“I’ll be back before dark,” dad promised again. “Come on kid, you could handle it in Eichen, you can handle it here. I believe in you.”

“But-” no. Things were different in Eichen. Things were different last full moon. Last full moon Stiles had all his meds. Last full moon Stiles didn’t feel like he was three seconds away from panic driving off a cliff. Last full moon Stiles didn’t have Derek Freaking Hale in his living room. 

“Four hours,” dad soothed. “That’s all I’ll be. I promise.” 

Stiles didn’t believe him. But he couldn’t stop his dad from walking out the front door. Nor could he physically remove Derek Hale from his house since, well, Stiles liked to think he could, but realistically Derek had a lot more muscle mass on him. 

He was doomed.

He started pacing again. 

On his second circuit to the living room he found Derek sitting down, book in hand. No words passed between them as Stiles did his rounds down here as well. Kitchen, living room, he needed to clean the stairs at some point, maybe he should just do it now. He was exhausted and terrified and being terrified was exhausting and dad had moved the vacuum and now he couldn’t find it and-

“Why don’t we watch a movie?” Derek announced, TV already on when Stiles looked around. 

It was tempting. It was more than tempting. He could sit down. He could try and sleep. But if he slept he knew what was waiting for him without his meds. 

“Okay, no movie,” Derek sighed. “I brought some headphones.”

“Oh.” Expensive ones too Stiles saw when Derek handed them over. Brand new, still in the package. “That was nice, thank you.” Suspiciously nice. Something was going on tonight. Something had to be going on tonight and that was why Derek didn’t want him to listen in. Listen to them howling at the moon because-

He set the headphones down, going back to trying to find the vacuum. He heard Derek following behind him. “You know, theoretically, if werewolves existed, now would probably be the best time to get some sleep. The sun’s up. There’s people in the streets. No sane werewolf would try and attack you right now.”

Was that- was that a threat? “I’m not scared of werewolves.” Not completely anyway.

“Okay,” Derek said in a way that meant he definitely didn’t believe Stiles either. “Still, now would be a good time to sleep. I’ll even wake you up before it gets dark.”

“I’m not scared of werewolves!” he barked again, digging through the crap they had under the stairs until he could fish out the vacuum hose. “I’m just. I can’t sleep without my meds okay? It’s hard and i can’t and they won’t give me more until all of my other ones are gone so, yeah, okay? No werewolves, just good old fashioned drugs.”

“Okay,” Derek said again.

“No really,” because apparently this mattered to him now? “Even if werewolves, hypothetically existed. Even if one was in my house right now with his weird beard and shiny shoes I wouldn’t be scared of him. He’s had a month to shut me up and I know he knows that I know what he is so really he’s not the problem here. Hypothetically of course,” He remembered to tack on. “Because werewolves don’t exist and I don’t believe in them otherwise I’d still be in Eichen.” He let out a shaky breath, passing the vacuum over to Derek and dragging the chord out from beneath a keyboard he’d given up on after only a month of owning it. “Plug that in would you?” 

Derek did, hovering only for a few minutes while Stiles did the stairs before retreating back to his book.

He vacuumed the whole house. Even under his bed. In fact he organised under his bed. He was practically reorganising the whole house by the time Derek caught up to him again, lingering, lurking, in the bathroom doorway. Just watching him. 

“Can I help you?” Stiles sighed.

“Are you going to have a nap?” Derek asked.

“Nope.”

“Then no, guess you can’t help me.”

Stiles finished scrubbing the bath tub, waving his sponge threateningly Derek’s way, “You can glare all you like, I’m not scared of you. You brought my dad a salad the other day for God’s sake so don’t even think about intimidating me into napping. It’s not gonna happen.”

“God I wish I could drug you,” Derek muttered.

“Yeah, well I wish you could drug me too.” Which probably wasn’t the best thing to say in any situation but the point still stood, if Stiles could have something to help him sleep, he would take it. Anything to stave off what was coming when the sun set. “And why do you care if I sleep?”

“I don’t,” Derek shrugged.

Stiles wasn’t stupid. “You do though. And it’s not just because I’m annoying you,” he knew when people were annoyed with him. He’d dealt with the consequences of people being annoyed with him. Something else was going on. 

“Fine, I promised your dad I’d try and get you to take a nap. Happy?” And there it was.

“Very. But it’s not happening.” He should have known. Dad would have happily left him alone through the day. Of course the only reason he had Derek over was so Stiles thought it was ‘safe’ enough to sleep. 

He moved onto the sink, scrubbing the mirror within an inch of its life before the sponge was snatched out of his hands. The cleaning supplies were kicked away, Derek obviously placing himself in front of them. “Please, go to sleep.”

“No.” There were other sponges. Other places that could use a deep clean. 

“What can I say to make you-”

“Nothing. It’s not happening. No. Absolutely not.” 

“But you want to sleep I can practically-”

Oh. Interesting. “Practically what? Smell it on me?” 

Derek’s eyes narrowed, his throat bobbing before he said, “You’d have to be blind to see you need to sleep Stiles.”

“But you weren’t going to say that.”

“It’s an expression.”

“It’s really not.”

Silence stretched between them, Stiles rolling onto the balls of his feet. Then Derek’s shoulders dropped. “Hypothetically,” he said, “if a werewolf was in your house and you weren’t scared of them, why won’t you go to sleep?” Another silence. Derek pursed his lips. “Okay. How about this. Say werewolves were real. Why won’t you trust the one who’s proven not to be a threat to keep you safe while you sleep?”

“Werewolves aren’t real Derek.”

Derek’s lip twitched, almost like it was itching to curl up. “I’m trying to help you.”

“I know.” since he did know that. “But I don’t want you to help me.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know you,” he didn’t. Stiles didn’t want to get to know him either. “You’re a stranger in my house right now and no amount of being nice to me is going to get me to do what you want. Or intimidating me,” he tacked on just in case he found himself manhandled after this.

Derek hung his head back, “So that’s it? I just have to leave? I can do that. I only came over for your dad.”

“Well…” it wasn’t that simple. But getting Derek out of his house would make him feel a little better. Especially because night was only, what, two hours away now? “You know what? Yeah, please leave. I er, yeah, I need to be alone. I’ll sleep better once I’m alone”

Derek’s eyes narrowed, a groan forcing its way out his throat, “You’re lying.” He held a hand out, “You know what, fine. Fine. You win. Stay awake.” As if realising the time himself, “It’s not like you’re gonna get more than thirty minutes anyway. Just, at least keep to downstairs. The last thing I need is you falling down the stairs.”

“Fine.” that he could do.

That he did do, the pair of them relocating to the living room again, Stiles pulling out every DVD and book they owned to dust and sort and see if he could organise them in colours. 

An hour passed. The sky started to grow dark, and when it did Stiles wasn’t the only one who started to grow antsy.”Something’s wrong,” Derek muttered, his book long abandoned on the sofa. 

“You can leave,” Stiles reminded him.

“Shut up.”

Another half hour passed before Derek called the station. Apparently another minor had gone missing. 

Ten minutes later and Derek was forcing headphones onto Stiles’s head. “Keep those on,” was the last thing Stiles heard and yeah, they worked. They more than worked. Stiles couldn’t hear a thing.

It was nice actually. Until it wasn’t. The thing about sleep deprivation and intense paranoia was that the two did not tend to mix well. All too soon Stiles thought he could hear slithers of sound drip into his ears. Phantom howls. Screaming. It made him feel sick. Out of it enough that he didn’t notice the note in front of his face until Derek actually took his chin and made him focus. 

I’m going upstairs it read. Don’t feel well. Make sure your dad doesn’t break the bathroom door down when he gets home.

A lame excuse if Stiles had ever heard one. Although, Derek did look a little pale. He nodded anyway, clutching his headphones on tighter as Derek ran for the stairs. 

Maybe he should have been more worried about having a stranger lock themselves away in his bathroom. One that had gone on about werewolves too for a good portion of the day. But Stiles wasn’t thinking logically at the moment. All he could think and hear were howls.

Well, one howl.

It had always only been one howl that haunted him. 

It was a rough night. Stiles didn’t remember a lot of it. His dad returned at some point however. Stiles only knowing because morning dawned with him cuddled into his dad’s side again, headphones clasped so tight around his ears his fingers were cramped when he finally let go.

Derek looked rough when he finally joined them downstairs. He certainly sold the lie to dad about a sudden illness, dad taking advantage of both of them being out of commission to whip himself up one of the most unhealthiest breakfasts Stiles had seen for a while. He couldn’t say he hated it when he dug into his own however.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help,” Stiles heard Derek say when he managed to ‘get enough strength to drive home’.

“He’s stubborn,” dad sighed. “And you tried your best, that’s all I could have hoped for.”

Some more words were spoken, Stiles hearing Derek’s car purring off a few minutes later. “Stubborn huh?” he asked when dad came back into the room.

“I don’t see you sleeping so stubborn’s probably the right word for you.”

Stiles shook his head. “I’m sorry.” He really was. It wasn’t like he wanted to be like this. Dad knew that too, telling him it was fine and maybe he could just find somewhere to sit for a few minutes if he wasn’t going to sleep. 

Even that proved to be a big ask. But Stiles did sleep eventually. Mainly because dad drove them both up to Eichen that next day and demanded the doctors do something since it was their fault Stiles had to take them at all. 

Well, Stiles was really the reason he had to take them, but he supposed dad had a point that it was them who prescribed them and the doctors who thought he needed them at all when he was… well, yeah he needed them.

He got them too. As well as a promise from Eichen that they’d see about Stiles being able to order his medication separately instead of in one bundle. Needless to say he felt marginally better waking up from a ten hour sleep. Enough to even go to work, Stiles negotiating about an hour before his shift started whether there was any way he could make up the hours he’d lost with a few more shifts through the week. Just a few. Just so he could afford more than his meds when the month came to an end.

With that sorted, he took the sign in sheet and lingered around the radios for Sharon to finish her shift. 

About halfway through, after he’d finished dealing with about three robberies, a certain book caught his eye. One that wasn’t currently giving him a headache trying to teach him the life stages of a plant. He knew he hadn’t been the best company that full moon. Taking all the hypotheticals away, he guessed, logically, Derek had been trying to help. 

Scott had at least told Derek about the ‘werewolf’ stuff, real or not and yeah, any other day of the week Stiles supposed sleeping through the day would have probably been the best way to stay safe from a werewolf. He saw where Derek was coming from. Especially if dad had charged him with getting Stiles to sleep. Really, if it had been the other way around Stiles probably would have said something similar. So, yeah, whether Derek was just messing with him or not, Stiles supposed he deserved the sticky note he stuck in Derek’s crossword book. 

I’m not scared of werewolves, but I appreciate what you did. Also don’t say werewolves to my dad. I have it on good authority any mention of them will most certainly get you into trouble,
Best,
Stiles.
P.S. I still have your headphones

Maybe he should change ‘best’ to ‘from’? It wasn’t like it was a work email. It wasn’t even an email. He deliberated on it for another five minutes before keeping it as it was and storing it back in its hidey hole.

There. Done. He could be nice when he wanted to be.

As could Derek if the sticky note reply was anything to go by. Keep them, was all it said, and Stiles wasn’t stupid enough to argue about a pair of headphones that cost over a hundred dollars. 

He did take offence to the notes scribbled in his notebook margins. It turned out that Derek had decided to mark his work. Which- rude. Also, Stiles did not appreciate the number of question marks Derek had put all over the page. Question marks that made sense when Stiles turned the page and saw only one question mark and where’s the rest of it? Written next to his half finished algebra equations, and, okay, maybe he hadn’t finished them. Like any of them. But it was hard to concentrate when he had a job to do and… yeah he wasn’t kidding anyone. He hadn’t even just not finished one, he’d literally forgotten he’d written it down and moved onto number five instead of going through three and four. Even then he didn’t even finish five. He just, it was hard, and he was still getting back on track after the disastrous gap in his meds and- urgh. “Okay,” he said when he saw Derek had also marked his half written essay on the great depression.  “You wanna play this game,” Stiles hummed, dragging Derek’s little puzzle book back out.

Derek wanted to mark his work, he’d mark Derek’s. It took him all shift but he found more than one mistake dotted amongst the word searches and sudoku squares. Stiles even found a red pen, going full teacher mode with frowny faces and proper spellings. Then, when he had a minute to calm down when he saw his replacement approach the front desk, he grabbed another sticky note and explained, I’m not stupid. It’s just hard for me to concentrate.

He didn’t find any more markings in his notebooks after that. 

Instead, around two weeks after their passive aggressive exchange he walked out of his shift to find Derek hanging around his dad’s office. Out of uniform. “Are you working today?” If not then Stiles didn’t see why Derek was here. No one should want to go to work outside of work hours.

Yet Derek said, “No,” and looked Stiles up and down, his frown never budging, “Are you done?”

“Er, yeah.” He poked his head around Derek’s very muscly frame, “I’m heading home,” he called, as he always did after he’d signed out. Dad looked up to give him a brief wave before going back to the slew of folders in front of him. Stiles tried not to brush against Derek as he headed back into the wider station. Except that wasn’t possible because, apparently, Derek was finished with whatever he was doing here as well. In fact he followed Stiles all the way into the parking lot. All the way past all those cars and to his jeep where- “Okay, can I help you with something?” urgh, dad had probably gotten Derek to ‘hang out’ with him again. If he wasn’t so touched he’d be pissed. Like seriously dad he wasn’t nine and friendless… okay maybe he was friendless but he wasn’t nine. He was very much capable of going out and finding his own frien-

“I’m helping you study,” Derek said, glaring through the windows until Stiles opened his jeep.

They both climbed in. “Huh?”

“You said you couldn’t concentrate,” Derek shrugged, slouching in his seat. “So, I’m helping.”

Oh. That was… nice? It also smelt a little iffy. Especially because he knew dad knew how hard Stiles was finding studying. Still, “Why?”

Derek shrugged again. “I’m helping. Do you honestly want to question why?”

Stiles was guessing this was free help as well. Free help to go with the free books he’d already volunteered up. As much as Stiles wanted to think bad of Derek, purely based on looks alone, he remembered what he’d heard that day in the grocery store. Derek had to do all of this too, and Stiles bet he had found it just as hard as Stiles was finding it now. 

He started his jeep up. “Where to?”

Derek finally straightened up. “Yours. After that we’ll head to mine.” Which Stiles was forcing himself not to think of as creepy.

“Great.” 

Derek’s place did not look like somewhere a serial killer lived. There were no blood on the walls or extra sharp knives in the kitchen. In fact it looked very nice. Very lived in. There were holes in the cushions and clutter piled up in odd places. Pictures sat on top of tables even if there was dust collected underneath them. Stiles recognised Lydia. Scott and Allison too. The rest of them looked vaguely familiar but Stiles couldn’t put a name to them if he tried.

The table only had a few chunks of wood missing out of it. Stiles could clearly see it was from someone trying to etch their name into it however and not in a weird murdery way.

All in all it kind of was and wasn’t what Stiles was expecting and that in itself just made this whole thing a lot more weird to him. 

He took a seat when directed, watching as Derek closed off a few doors before pulling out the seat opposite. “We’ll start with english first,” he said, sliding a few sheets of paper Stiles’s way. “You said you’re not stupid. Prove it.” 

“Prove it?”

Derek nodded down to the sheets, and after a second of looking Stiles saw what was going on.

Clever. He gave Derek that it was very clever. It was an awful essay on the migration of deer, of all things, but maybe that was purposeful. The boring topic Stiles forced himself to read kept being halted here and there by mistakes. A missing capital here, too many commas there. Things that grabbed his interest and made him look over everything again in detail. It was marking, basically, but done in a way where Stiles was learning at the same time as well. It was basically reverse psychology on how not to write an essay, and when it came to his turn, he had to say he did marginally better than Derek.

“My dad told you,” Stiles said when a good two hours had passed. He was packing up after Derek scared him into reading the first few chapters of Romeo and Juliet. By that Stiles meant he lurked over Stiles’s shoulder until he was basically forcing himself to read or suffer those judgmental eyebrows.

It worked.

“Scott did when I took his notebooks actually,” Derek said. Which, great. Of course Scott did that. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed.” all of his teachers in high school knew about his attention disorders. Scott, Melissa, his dad, everyone who knew him knew about them. So he wasn’t ashamed. He just liked to be the one to tell people. It made him feel like he wasn’t some infant who needed to be spoken about like he wasn’t even there. “And you did well,” since Derek hadn’t really gone asking about it he supposed. Scott had probably just offered it up as a warning. “Really. Getting me out of the house, keeping me to one location. Giving me this,” he held the horrible essay up, “which, really, how on earth do you know so much about deer?”

“They used to pass by my house,” Derek shrugged.

Which made sense. Stiles had seen the old Hale house. They probably would have seen deer every now and then. “Well, it worked. I can now successfully write an essay.” One that was to high school standards anyway.

Derek hummed, his chair scraping back as Stiles finished shoving his books inside his bag. “I can help with English. Maybe history. But I called Lydia to come over on her winter break to help you with algebra.” 

Which again, “You realise you have a lot of friends my age right?” he could see the connection. If Derek tolerated Scott, he’d probably interacted with Allison. Lydia and Allison were practically a package when Stiles had left, and it didn’t look like that had changed over the years. Still, it was weird. This was all weird. 

Derek pulled a face, ushering him out the door with a warned, “Don’t make me regret helping you,” the door closing before Stiles could even think of retorting.

Dad, since of course he knew, looked smug as a bug when Stiles finally clambered home. “Don’t even,” Stiles warned, setting off to the kitchen to feed his poor starving stomach.

It turned out Derek and his dad had made a sort of timetable to help Stiles with his studying. “He’s cheaper than a tutor,” dad had told him when Stiles complained about just how much time out of his week they’d monopolised.

Yes, sure, four hours wasn’t a lot on paper. But it was always after work and Stiles just knew, he knew that Derek wouldn’t be open to grabbing take out before they started.

At least they’d given Stiles a heads up for his next session, and he was thankful for the help. Really. He needed it, and it showed that Derek had done at least a bit of research or just asked dad how he’d wrangled Stiles and school growing up since there wasn’t really a lot at Derek’s that could distract him. Well, nothing he wanted to investigate straight away in case he ended up being the reason Derek’s apartment ended up with blood on the walls. 

Derek was good at focusing him as well. As soon as Stiles tried veering off into other topics he just put the fear of god into Stiles and boom, back on task.

“I mean I do have meds,” he explained on their third meet up, Stiles anxiously waiting for Derek to copy the marks Lydia had made when he sent her a photo of his completed work. “I have a lot of them. But when people say they help you ‘focus’ they always assume it’s gonna be on school and homework when really it’s just on topics that you actually want to study. I once spent seven hours researching guitars because I liked the sound they made on my mom’s old CD’s.”

“I used to have a guitar.”

Stiles was honestly shocked into silence. Not only because Derek had spoken for the first time in an hour but that it was something about himself. “That’s cool,” Stiles choked out. “Really cool. Were you any good?”

Derek shook his head, eyes still on his phone, “It burned up with the rest of the house about a week after I got it.”

“Oh god.” That sucked. 

Derek hummed. “I know people always think about my family who was inside, but I had things in there as well that I miss.” another confession. Was it because Derek was distracted or, well, Stiles didn’t know. 

Either way, he commiserated. “I know it’s not the same. But I really missed my video games when I was in Eichen. I thought, when I got out, I’d spend hours completing all the levels, just, you know, enjoying them again. But,” he shrugged, “I haven’t even looked at them. It’s like, I don’t know, maybe I’ve grown out of them. I don’t feel like I have though? It’s weird, I just haven’t been able to put them on.”

Derek glanced up, “That sucks.”

“It does.” It really really did.

His work was handed back, “You did good. Lydia says she’s proud you can at least do basic math.”

“High praise,” especially for someone who’d managed to skip a whole year already in college. 

“Extremely.” Derek circled the next set of equations, breaking them up onto separate sheets of paper before starting the three minute timer. “And it’ll get better. Sometimes you just need time to get back into things.”

Stiles set the first equation down, moving onto the second, “Does this mean I’ll get to hear you play next time I come over?”

“Do you see a guitar around here?” Derek challenged.

“No,” he hadn’t. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t have one. Who knows, maybe the real reason you close the rest of your apartment off is because you don’t want me to see what a sick axe you have.”

He heard a small huff. Nay, a small laugh. It looked good on him. Made him seem less serial killer-y. 

“Okay,” he jotted down his answer. “Done.” 

Derek gathered them up, sending them off to Lydia for more marking. Honestly, Stiles couldn’t wait until she was back. While he liked having Derek all to himself, he had to admit the time waiting for his answers to be marked were excruciating. At least when she was here he would know if she was actually doing it. Which was maybe a bit selfish since yeah she had other things to do, but still. The anticipation? Not cool.

All in all, when his answers came back and Lydia declared she was done for the day, it turned out he wasn’t a completely hopeless case. In fact, Lydia said he was ready to move onto actual test papers he would have taken if he’d stuck around his junior year. While it wasn’t senior stuff, it was a step in the right direction, and Stiles felt good about himself. 

It also helped he got Derek to make that half laugh twice more that evening. So yeah, Stiles was winning all around. Which was probably why he should have expected something to go wrong.

At first, he didn’t even realise it. Dad was where he usually was after he’d come home from work, sprawled on the couch trying to forget about whatever case was bothering him this week. The dishes were done, he had no homework other than to try and get another chapter of Romeo and Juliet finished for their next session and, yeah, he was ready for a good eight hours of blissful, dreamless sleep.

He toed his shoes off, flopping back onto his bed, and only after he’d exhausted going down the local wildlife rabbit hole he’d uncovered after some article he’d been reading mentioned it did he hear something crinkle under his head. 

He shifted, hearing it again. Feeling it now he came to think of it. Reaching back, he pulled out a sheet torn out of one of his notebooks, Derek’s patronising smiley faces staring back at him. Then he turned it over.

We need to talk.
11pm at the preserve,
Scott

Scott had been here. Scott had been in his room.

He could feel his heart start to race. Dad wouldn’t have let him in and- the window. He’d left his window open.

Diving over, he slammed it shut, pushing his desk up against it for good measure. After that he may have blacked out a little since the next thing he knew his room had been upturned and he was starting on his dad’s. He just had to check. He just needed to make sure Scott wasn’t here. That he wasn’t hiding. Waiting for dad to go to sleep or- or-

“Stiles?” He was dragged out from under his dad’s bed. “Stiles? What is it?”

“Scott.” No point in lying. “Scott was here.” He didn’t have to protect him anymore. “He was here and he left a note and-” the note. He raced back to his room, upturning books and folders until he found it, his breaths coming a bit easier as he handed it over. “He was here.” Proof. He had proof. Right there. Dad was reading it too.

Dad believed him. “Stay here.” Dad was leaving him.

“No. No, no, no, no, no,” he wasn’t being left alone. What if something happened? What if dad was out too long and Scott came back here? “Dad no. Please. Don’t- please don’t go.”

“Stiles,” dad tried to get him to let go. But if he let go dad was gonna leave and something was going to happen he could feel it. “Stiles just-”

They ended up downstairs, a bowl of popcorn in Stiles’s lap, another movie he’d missed while he was gone playing on the TV and his dad in the kitchen barking down the phone at Melissa. Stiles was honestly starting to feel sorry for the woman. There was a reason him and Scott used to be able to get up to so much mischief, neither one of their parents were around enough to enforce proper rules. Even now, with Scott away at college he just bet Melissa was taking every shift that came her way. She wouldn’t be around to keep her son at home when he was supposed to be. Or, if he was at college, keep eyes on him there. So, really, there was only so much dad was accomplishing by screaming down the phone at her.

Still, maybe this would be the phone call that got Scott to stop. He had to see what this was doing to people. What he’d already done. 

Stiles honestly didn’t know what he was getting out of it.

“Is she grounding him?” Stiles asked, dad finally setting their landline back in its cradle.

“No,” Dad huffed, falling down next to Stiles. “But she did agree to a restraining order.”

“A restraining order?” really? 

Dad levelled him with a look, “We both don’t want anything to happen to you Stiles. And Melissa can’t do more than she already has. Maybe the law finally getting involved will get him to leave you alone.” and yeah, Stiles had basically hoped his dad would say something like that. But a restraining order? 

“I’m not gonna have to carry a measuring tape around with me am I?” 

A small smile creeped at the edges of his dad’s face, “Nah. Scott might though.”

“He’s gonna hate me,” and Stiles was surprised to find that he cared about that. 

“He’s gonna leave you alone,” Dad corrected, pulling him into his side. “You’ll see. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

When dad got the law involved he did not waste a second in doing so. That next morning Stiles pulled into work to see a familiar car nestled amongst the rest of the station’s. Melissa and Scott were in his dad’s office when he passed, and Stiles didn’t much like the way Scott’s head perked up without him even turning around. Almost like he knew Stiles was there. 

Derek was still around, pen in mouth and not racing to the front desk like he usually did when he was relieved of duty. Instead, he circled a few more words in his wordsearch, muttering, “Your dad made me stay in case Scott tried anything when they leave.”

Really? “I thought you didn’t have the training to make arrests?” Stiles certainly didn’t. 

“No I do. Your dad just couldn’t hire me properly because of my record. But he made me take all the courses.”

Which was news to Stiles. “Wonder if he’ll let me do that.” He wouldn’t mind brushing up on how to take an armed man down. Or, well, learning it at all since he couldn’t brush up on something he didn’t know about.

“Probably.” The radios crackled a few times. “Are you okay with it? I know you sometimes talk to Scott.”

Derek shrugged, pen hovering near his lips again. “You told him to leave you alone. It’s his own fault if he can’t take the hint.”

Stiles hummed, looking over Derek’s shoulder. “You spelled ‘carnivorous' wrong on your crossword.”

He got a glare, Stiles grinning back before focusing on his job.

Scott and Melissa left three hours into his shift. Stiles only knew because Derek rolled himself in front of Stiles, his shoulders raised and that alone had Stiles looking over them. A brief stare off and Melissa was dragging Scott out, Derek finally grabbing his things ten minutes after they left.

“He doesn’t look like how I keep remembering him,” he told dad that night. 

“Well he is older,” dad said.

Stiles hummed, and it was true, the pair of them were older. Stiles knew, while he hadn’t changed that much, he’d lost a lot of his gangliness that had always been tripping him up when he was younger. That wasn’t to say gravity still didn’t hate him, but his body had stopped springing surprises on him and for that he was grateful. Scott looked, Stiles didn’t even know how to describe it. 

No. He did. 

Predatory.

He remembered how hard Scott had worked for his muscles when they’d been sixteen. How he, like Stiles, was still trying to find out how this whole puberty thing worked and just why it meant they couldn’t walk a straight line anymore. But it was different now. He didn’t look like he’d tried hard for anything. He looked like it was natural for him to have that lean muscle. His eyes too. They weren’t the same lovable Scott they’d used to be. They were colder. Not in a mature way either. Just colder. Sizing everything and anything up. 

It was quite possibly worse than what Stiles had held onto for the past three years.

“Did he say anything to you?” Stiles asked, handing another dish over for his dad to dry. “About why he wanted to meet?” To talk he’d said. Stiles wasn’t sure he believed that.

“He said he wants to make amends,” dad sighed. 

“Amends?” 

“He looked like he was telling the truth,” dad gave him that. “But,” he shook his head, “You and I both know we need to leave Scott in the past.”

“Let’s hope he agrees with that.” Just because a piece of paper said Scott had to keep away didn’t mean he would. All it did mean was that he would get prosecuted if he was caught. If. That didn’t mean he would, and Stiles knew Scott had probably perfected the art of sneaking into windows over the years. He’d done so through Stiles’s seamlessly after all.

“He will if he knows what’s good for him,” Dad muttered.

Stiles kept thinking about it the rest of the week. More so when he found out, somehow, Derek had been forced to pass a message along from Scott. It felt like the biggest betrayal in the world to sit there that evening, American History spread out before them and Derek tossing a note over to him with an offhanded, “I said I’d give this to you.” Stiles recognising the handwriting on top.

“You’re his messenger now? What happened to ‘I barely talk to him’?” 

“I don’t. And you don’t have to open it. I just said I’d hand it over,” Derek made a face. 

Stiles felt like screaming. He really did. He knew, okay. He knew that Derek saw Scott. He knew Derek interacted with Scott. He knew Scott was giving Derek information on him. But before now it had never really impacted him. Before now, it was just a minor inconvenience. Everyone knew everyone in Beacon Hills after all. 

But passing notes? What was next? Where did Derek draw the line? What, to him, was innocent and what wasn’t? 

He tossed the note away, not even wanting to contemplate what was inside of it. “If you could maybe not let Scott use you as a messenger in the future I’d really appreciate it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Stiles asked.

“Okay,” Derek nodded. “I only said yes because Scott asked if you’d ever explicitly asked me not to give you any messages he wanted you to have. Now you have.”

“So that’s it, you just needed me to say that?”

Derek’s face twisted, “Things with Scott are complicated.”

“But you’re taking my side?”

Derek shrugged, “You have a restraining order now. Also, I don’t know what he did, but he upsets you and,” he stopped as if just realising what he’d said.

Stiles considered dropping it but, “You’re bothered that he upsets me?”

Derek’s mouth twisted, his silence saying it all. 

“Oh.” That was oddly sweet. Stiles hoped it was because Derek actually liked him too and not just, well, not just because he was the recently released ‘fragile’ mental patient that could snap at any minute ha ha. 

“Don’t read too much into it. We work together. That’s all.” 

Sure. That was it. Nevermind that Derek voluntarily hung out with Scott in a social setting and, well, friends were more important than colleagues, right? He didn’t say that out loud. Instead he dragged his book back over to himself, forcing himself to find the date of the Wall Street crash.

Derek stopped giving him notes. Stiles stopped finding them in his room as well. But Scott was tenacious. Despite the fact that any form of contact could be seen as breaking the restraining order Scott left notes elsewhere in Stiles’s day to day life. Maybe a note under his wipers after he’d been to grab a snack. Or one in the restrooms at work. In a book at the library. Even attached to a can of soup when Stiles went grocery shopping.

Scott was definitely tailing him. Worse, he was probably waiting for him somewhere nearby, hoping Stiles would find him in whatever secret place he’d found to keep them hidden from cameras or Stiles’s dad.

It wasn’t going to work. 

Stiles wouldn’t let it work even if he was getting more pissed off by the day.

It got to the point he was actually pacing in Derek’s apartment, having long given up on trying to study as he tried to figure out a way to just get Scott to leave him alone. 

“He’s gonna actually send me back to Eichen at this rate,” Stiles huffed. He’d been ranting about the notes for a good twenty minutes now. “And I know what he wants. I know, I just know it. But, like, he can see right? He can see that I’m keeping my mouth shut. That- that I’m not trying to get him killed or whatever it is that’s running through his head. He can see that right?”

“I just think he wants to talk,” Derek sighed. He’d migrated to the couch when Stiles refused to stop pacing. Stiles thought Derek was just waiting for a good opportunity to call it a day and kick him out right now.

Which he would do on his own. Soon. Real soon. He knew he was wasting time here and Derek didn’t have to listen to him ramble. But it was just, it was so annoying. It was invasive and he’d already had four panic attacks this week he didn’t think his heart could handle another if Scott didn’t give up. So, “There has to be a way to get him to stop.” There just had to. “He has to stop, Derek, please. I know you don’t want to be involved, I know you and Scott are like friends or something, but I can’t take a lot more of this. My dad can’t take it. So please can you just-” he sat down, pulling on the ends of his hair until he could think clearly again. “I don’t want to go back to Eichen.”

There was a sigh, the couch creaking as Derek sat that little bit closer. “You won’t.”

“But I will. I don’t think Scott gets that.” He groaned into his hands before thinking, fuck it. “I didn’t actually get cleared to leave, you know.”

There was a pause. Then, “What?”

“I… technically I should still be in there. But dad couldn’t afford it anymore,” he was surprised his dad had lasted three years actually. “They said I’d ‘gotten better’. But when I think about it, it was just my dad who said that. The doctors just told me I was leaving. Since I was in the middle of this new therapy I could quickly put two and two together.” The bills were another big thing. Dad always tried to get to them first, but Stiles managed to catch a few when his dad left early for work. There was a difference in bills for finished therapy, and letters addressed to him asking him when his new payment plan would be in place so they could continue with his treatment. “I still believe in werewolves,” he laughed. “Still believe a lot of things. But so long as I don’t say them out loud, I think dad’s happy to just let me try and make my way back into society. And I want that,” he glanced over at Derek, “I really want that.” 

There was a long stretch of silence between them.

“I’m not dangerous,” Stiles offered up. “No matter what Scott says I’m not dangerous. I’m not. And I have meds now that make me want to just lie down and sleep all day. I just want a chance to be normal again. To help my dad before he does something stupid like take out a loan. Because he will,” Stiles insisted. “He’ll take one out if he thinks I can’t cope out here. So I need Scott to stay away from me. He’s… he’s the reason I had to go away the first time and I’ll be damned if he puts me away the second.”

A hand slowly crept onto his own, squeezing tightly for a few seconds before retreating back to its own place on the couch. “I’ll talk to Scott,” Derek promised.

“Thank you.”

Derek didn’t ask anymore questions. Not the ones Stiles was expecting. Nor did he outright shove Stiles out the door. Things were just… normal. Just talk on whether his dad would be home when he got back and that they’d try again with the study sessions. 

He still felt better when he was away from Derek, but Stiles appreciated the lack of response as he drove home that evening. 

Work that next day found Stiles leaning over Derek’s shoulder, watching as his knuckles moved under the flannel he’d applied. Ice rattled and threatened to fall as Derek stored his puzzles back in their home. “Dude what happened?” It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together when someone had a bad hand. 

“Nothing,” Derek brushed off.

“Nothing?” He couldn’t see any other cuts on Derek’s face, and the uniform covered the rest of him. “This isn’t about what I told you yesterday is it?” 

Derek turned the radios slightly up, his voice pitched low as he brushed back against Stiles, “It’s fine.”

It took a second for Stiles to basically come online again. Thoughts of chest, chest, chest fading as he realised Derek had done that on purpose. What’s more, he was already at the front desk before Stiles could think of telling him that ‘I’m fine’ is not a no. Which meant it might actually have had something to do with what Stiles told him yesterday.

Stiles wondered what the other guy looked like.

Unharmed was his answer as he grabbed gas that night. Maybe it was pure coincidence, maybe it wasn’t, but Scott took the pump furthest away from him, and under the dim gas station lights Stiles could see pure unmarred skin as Scott filled his bike up. So maybe it didn’t have anything to do with Stiles.

Whatever the case, despite meeting at the same gas station Scott left him alone. No note on his windshield, in any aisle or on his seat when he finished paying. Derek looked to have given Scott his message in between fights. 

He breathed a bit easier driving home.

Four full moons. That was how many he had under his belt since coming home. Thankfully the last two weren’t nearly half as bad as that second one. With his meds now fully under control he could, as Derek had said, sleep when it was safe to be on guard through the night. If he even woke up during the night. For some reason that third month Derek had shown up again. There weren’t any emergencies at the station, and when Stiles invited him in, dad looked just as surprised to see Derek as Stiles was. 

Dad, later, said maybe Derek was trying to get his mind off the moon. Really Stiles thought he was doing it because he liked to see Stiles suffer since every moon since, including this one, usually started with Stiles waking up to Derek coming into his house and telling him to shove his running gear on.

He’d never felt so unfit in his life.

Which was saying something since Stiles liked to think he was fit. He’d ran laps and on treadmills and allsorts in Eichen, taking advantage of every chance he could to get out into the sunlight. So yeah, he could run. Just not as good as Derek who Stiles was half convinced is a machine. “You gotta learn to slow down,” Stiles gasped out when the bile crept back down his throat. “Seriously. I can’t-” oh, it was coming back, “I can’t keep up.”

“You’re fine,” Derek waved off, not looking to have even broken a sweat. What the hell. “Are you ready to head back yet-”

Stiles held a hand up, he didn’t even want to think about heading back until his stomach settled. Derek snorted, sitting beside him. Stiles tried not to look as Derek leaned back against his hands, he really did. There were things like not throwing up he was trying to focus on. But Derek didn’t understand the concept of cold. What did that mean? Well, sure California was hot, but they had their cold spells just like any other place. Like now where Stiles felt it was necessary to wear a sweater lest he end up with muscle spasms on top of the bile. But Derek? What? Was he really some kind of robot or did he just not feel the cold because there was no need to wear shorts this time of the year?

Ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous. 

Even more so because Stiles literally couldn’t appreciate them properly. Oh he could look. He could admire the peek of thigh he could see. But what could he do with this information? Nothing. 

“Okay,” maybe they were good for something since Stiles didn’t feel completely horrible anymore, “I think I can start walking again.”

“Running,” Derek corrected.

“Walking,” Stiles demanded, Derek grinning in that mean way of his that meant he was enjoying torturing Stiles. “I mean it. I might be able to run the last three feet but I think I have a stitch.”

Derek groaned about it, but when it came down to going back he kept at Stiles’s pace. 

Dad saw them coming up a good minute off, the door open and a nice cold glass of water dragging him the last few steps into the house. “What did you do to him?” Dad laughed, Stiles ignoring him in favour of flopping onto the couch. 

“Nothing he couldn’t handle.”

Naturally, Derek stayed for lunch before making his excuses to leave before it got too late. Not that Stiles even knew when he left. Sometime between lunch and Derek leaving he always ended up passed out on the couch, his muscles screaming at him that they couldn’t run like that again for at least another lunar cycle. But the exhaustion trick did work, he gave Derek that. By the time Stiles did wake up half the night had already passed, and dad didn’t look exhausted come morning when work inevitably called to see if he could make it in.

Things were getting better, and Stiles couldn’t exactly deny dad’s favourite work son had something to do with it. 

“Christmas,” Derek repeated.

“Yeah, Christmas. I mean, we don’t do a lot. Usually my dad’s working Christmas Eve which means one of us will be working it too. But we find time to fit a meal in. Oh, I guess I can go to the Christmas party now that I think about it.” The station had one every year. The officers on duty couldn’t get drunk, but the food was aplenty and someone always made up the weirdest games Stiles was allowed to play until dad took him home before it got too rowdy. “The point is, if you don’t have anywhere you need to be, you can always come over.” 

Derek tilted his head.

“You have somewhere you need to be huh?” Stiles figured out.

Derek pulled a face, “I do,” he muttered. “But I don’t really want to go this year.”

Stiles forced himself not to pry. Leaving it instead with, “Well, offer’s there if you want it. I’m not gonna cry myself to sleep just because you don’t show up.”

“Good to know,” Derek huffed, tapping the algebra worksheet Stiles was supposed to be doing.

He got back to it, and was glad of it when, a week later, Stiles rocked up to Derek’s place to see none other than the goddess herself jotting down a mammoth equation onto a whiteboard. “Where on earth did she find that?” Stiles muttered, setting his bag down in his usual spot.

“She came up with it,” Derek murmured back. 

“Oh. Great.” He could practically feel the fear that had slowly been dissipating with every visit to Derek’s apartment return tenfold as Lydia turned around.

Tossing the pen Stiles’s way, she grabbed a book and told him to, “Solve it.”

Which he did. Eventually. It just took an hour to do so. He didn’t even get a ‘well done’. Lydia just wrote another one telling him he needed to be faster. Apparently if he could solve these ones quickly, the ones on the GED test would be a piece of cake. Flawless logic, but the fact that Stiles had a lot more equations like these to solve before he could go back to easy ones was starting to hurt his head.

“I heard you punched Scott,” Stiles heard halfway through his third, and last, equation of the day. 

“Did he tell you that?” Derek muttered.

“No. Malia did. Apparently she had to drag the two of you off each other. Did something happen?”

He didn’t even have to turn around to know Derek was shaking his head. “Just leave it.”

“If there’s something going on I have a right to know about it,” and urgh, her voice had turned sharp. Stiles remembered many a bad thing happening after that tone came out. Namely Lydia sicking Jackson on her enemies. He wondered what happened to Jackson. Hopefully he was working out his anger management issues somewhere that wasn’t Beacon Hills. 

“It’s nothing to do with you,” Derek said at last. “Or, any of you. We just had an argument that got out of hand.”

“And if I asked Scott?” 

“Just leave it,” Derek sighed, the couch creaking as he got up. “Third line’s wrong.”

Stiles glanced up, groaning when he realised it was. “This sucks.”

Lydia, unlike Derek, told Stiles her time was valuable and if he wanted to learn properly he was going to have to dedicate every spare second he had to her. Not a bad concept. If he were sixteen he would have been beyond happy with the idea of spending time with Lydia Martin. But, unfortunately, he wasn’t sixteen. He had a job, a late job too, which meant that ‘every spare second’ usually left him exhausted come that next morning. 

But he was improving. That much Lydia gave him. “These are college level, so yes Stiles, you’re not an idiot. Just slow,” she handed the pen back over to him, “You have two minutes.”

He was not successful.

“Do you talk to a lot of people from high school?” he asked one sunny Wednesday afternoon. He had a rare day off. Namely because everyone was trying to get more shifts to afford presents. Since it was just him and his dad, Stiles wasn’t too bothered about giving up extra work. He had enough under his belt for the important stuff this month, and January, his dad promised, would more than make up for the missed shifts.

“A few,” Lydia murmured. Stiles didn’t like the way her red pen was circling a lot of his work. Maybe he wasn’t good under pressure.

“Do you,” hell why not, “Do you remember me?”

“Sure,” Lydia said, easy as can be.

“You do?” and yes, he wanted her to remember him, but he honestly hadn’t thought she did.

“Of course I do. You’re the kid who went crazy.” Which explained it. He supposed everyone remembered the people with the most gossip about them. “Scott mentioned you a few times,” she offered after a moment.

Scott. “Right.” Of course he did. “W-”

“Here,” she slid his test paper over, a sad 65 staring up at him. He flicked through his work, finding half ticks next to right answers. “But-”

“You need to do the equation properly or they won’t give you full marks for them. Stupid, I know, but it’s how the school system works. We should go over them again next time. Now get out your chemistry book.”

It took a second for him to process that before he was yanking his notebook over and watching as algebra was put to bed for another day.

The lessons continued, with Derek wandering in every now and then to lean menacingly over his shoulder. More and more people started turning up as well. Stiles walked in one day to find two girls lounging on Derek’s couch, the eyebrows alone speaking of some relation to Mr Hale himself. The day after, Stiles was introduced to Peter, Derek’s uncle. Or, well, he introduced himself after watching Stiles like a hawk for half an hour. It turned out Derek wasn’t lying when he said he had somewhere to be. A kid named Isaac showed up on the twelfth along with a guy Stiles thought he should know but honestly couldn’t remember how. Then someone called Kira and by the seventeenth Stiles was honestly uncomfortable enough with so many people he begged out of going until after the new year.

“It’s just, you know, I’m sure you’d rather spend some time with them than sit there and listen to me struggle over physics,” he rattled to Derek as he tidied up after his shift. 

Derek hummed, a considering noise before agreeing, “You probably need to catch up on your sleep. I hear they have you working all through Christmas Eve. Boxing day’s a full moon as well.”

Which he hadn’t known about. “Crap.” At least he’d be here for the holiday party. 

A party which dawned far faster than Stiles was expecting. It was already in full swing by the time he rolled up to the station. People were yelling, there were perps singing carols. Jordan had somehow managed to be bullied into an arm wrestling match and there was karaoke. Horrible, terrible karaoke. 

Dad definitely had too many drinks when Stiles found him. Thankfully, his shift ended twenty minutes ago otherwise the poor people of Beacon Hills would be listening to a horrible rendition of Waterloo as they were arrested.

The only man not on duty who didn’t look like they would be spending the night in the sobriety tank was Derek who, after fending off one of the many female officers trying to get his attention, pulled up a chair next to Stiles. “Don’t,” he warned, “Just look busy and they won’t talk to me.”

Stiles smothered a laugh, turning the radio that little bit extra loud as another 80’s bop started up.

Unsurprisingly, Stiles barely had time to talk that night. Public intoxication, domestic violence, even a robbery, the christmas spirit was dead and long gone for the criminals of Beacon Hills. It got so busy even Derek volunteered a few unpaid hours of his time, seeming to shuffle people to the right places before the slips of paper even came through to them. 

“You’re a machine,” Stiles praised, as Derek sent a car to check on another domestic disturbance, “and I am so happy you’re on my side. But seriously, it’s Christmas and this place is gonna be dead in a couple of minutes. Go home.” Stiles had another two hours and while he wasn’t thankful for the help, he knew Derek had family to go home to now. Namely a sister and cousin he’d heard conspiring to dress Derek in antlers if it killed them.

As if he knew that himself he waved Stiles off. “I have the next two days off, and if I’m tired I won’t be bothered.” Or he would be bothered and he wouldn’t know about it. 

Either way, “Your funeral.” Another call came in.

Dad sobered up enough to make it back to the station just before Stiles signed out. Looking like all manners of hell he ruffled Stiles’s hair like he was all of two years old again and asked Derek, “Breakfast? I think you deserve it.”

“Sure,” Derek smiled, the three of them clambering into dad’s car.

“Won’t your family mind?” Stiles asked around a deliciously greasy bacon sandwich. 

“Nah,” Derek waved off. “My apartment is full of teenagers. If they’re awake before nine I’ll be surprised.” Which was solid logic if Stiles had ever heard it. So they enjoyed their Christmas breakfast and after dad promised he’d make sure Derek was paid for helping out Stiles, they dropped him off and headed home for a long, lazy day of sleeping and eating.

Boxing day, on the other hand, dawned with the door going. Stiles basically zombied his way over to it, blinking more than once before the image before him solidified into something real and very much not welcome right now. “You’re joking.”

“Running gear,” Derek said, eyebrow raising until Stiles stumbled upstairs.

“This is unfair. This is so unfair,” Stiles grumbled, Derek closing the door behind him. 

Naturally, dad didn’t come to his rescue. Meaning Stiles was running through Beacon Hills, sweaty, tired and hungry all before noon. Of course Derek was none of those things. He practically glided ahead, slowing only when Stiles was a bit too far behind. 

They eventually stopped at their usual place just before the preserve. On his hands and knees, Stiles struggled to find this precious thing called air as Derek did his usual stretches. The show off. “I have this horrible feeling you used to be a jock,” he said, flopping onto his back. “One of those mean ones who took pleasure in taunting those of us who struggle to-” Oh god, air was escaping him again, “to keep up.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t run,” Derek laughed.

“That wasn’t a no.” 

A shadow fell over him, Derek crouching down until Stiles got an eyeful of knee, knee, keep looking at his knees. They left his eyeline after a moment, Derek leaning back until he was sitting next to Stiles, those glorious knees spread out in front of him. Stiles struggled to his elbows, his chest still feeling tight, but at least he wasn’t dying anymore.

“Do you really still believe in werewolves?” Derek asked. So quiet Stiles almost missed it.

But he didn’t. He dragged himself further up. “You can laugh. But all I’m gonna say is that you don’t have proof werewolves don’t exist. No one does. You can’t prove something fundamentally doesn’t exist just because you’ve never seen one yourself.” His doctors would have scolded him for that. It was an obvious aversion to the question. 

Derek didn’t scold him. Just hummed thoughtfully. “You have a point.”

“This is to do with Scott.” It had to be. “With your fight with Scott.” Since Stiles knew for a fact now that Derek’s bruised knuckles had to be from then. It was too much of a coincidence for it not to be. Especially when Derek promised to get Scott to leave him alone. “You asked him what happened.”

“I did,” Derek didn’t even try to deny.

Stiles stretched his legs out, the heaviness starting to set in the longer they sat there. Still, he was curious to know, “What did he say?” He remembered what Scott had said that first time around. But now? Years later? Who knew.

“He…” Derek’s face twisted before he asked, “Can you tell me what happened instead?”

“Really?” He wanted Stiles’s version? 

“All of it,” Derek nodded. “Even the parts you don’t think I’ll believe. I want to know before I tell you what Scott said.” 

Which was smart. It meant less outside influence and Stiles tailoring his story if Derek believed for a moment Stiles would still cover Scott’s ass. “Okay.” He could do this. It wasn’t like anyone believed him, and years later it didn’t matter anyway. “Well, I guess I better start at the beginning.” Making himself comfortable, “I went around Scott’s house late one night after school because I heard about a body found in the woods…” 

He knew, now, that it was Derek’s sister they’d found. Or, supposedly found. Derek offered up that little bit of information around the time Stiles got to meeting him for the first time in the preserve when Derek threw Scott his inhaler. The bite Scott kept from him. The first full moon. Derek being a general creeper, which got a snort from said creeper. Then the beginning of the end.

“So, Scott had this girlfriend, Allison,” Who Derek knew since he’d seen her in one of Derek’s many photos in his apartment. “He was like obsessed with her. Wanted to see her all the time and like, yeah, I get it, I mean I don’t because I’m still a freaking virgin, but I mean I understand where he was coming from.” If he’d had someone back then he would have liked to spend all of his time with them as well. “Anyway, the full moon was coming and he was getting all irrational and angry and like, literally the day before he was telling me that I needed to help him be better prepared this time.” 

He told Derek about the chains and the handcuffs. Even the keys he’d nabbed from Scott’s room to lock the windows so he wouldn’t escape.

It sounded a bit ridiculous, even more so now years later, but Derek had wanted what he thought happened so, this was it. “And then he got out and I went looking and, I don’t know, we had a fight. Not physically, just shouting.” He rubbed at his eye, remembering how tame it had actually been. “I mean, I was literally just telling him to go home. That was it. And he just flipped out on me and ran off.” 

“And then?” Derek prompted when the silence grew too long.

“And then I went home. I figured it wasn’t my problem. He’d made his case and I’d done my best so I went home. And that’s where dad caught me. He met me out front. Told me to sit in the back of his car. He locked the door and I thought for a moment there was someone in the house. Maybe like whatever crazy had bit Scott.” He remembered sitting in the car, waiting for his dad to come back out. He remembered trying the locks, seeing if he could just get out and help. “Then dad came out, and Melissa was with him and they were both arguing. I’ve never seen her like that. She was just…” he shook his head. “It turned out Scott had called her. He said I’d attacked him. That I’d chained him to a radiator and that I thought he was a werewolf.” 

Which weren’t wrong. Stiles did all that. Well, he handcuffed Scott up, not chained him. But yeah, he did think Scott was a werewolf. 

“They argued for hours, and it just got worse when Scott turned up. I didn’t touch him, I swear.” He would have remembered it. Back then he would have. “But he was all bloody and beat up and he was carrying the chain I’d kept at his place. And then he was telling my dad about all this other stuff in my room. Like knives and stuff. Which I didn’t have. He put them there, I know he put them there. He didn’t want me in his way,” that was the only thing he could think of. “He didn’t want me to help him keep him from ripping his girlfriend apart and I knew it would just get worse if I opened my mouth but they were calling me a liar and-” It got to him. Being called a liar when he wasn’t one, when all of this was just getting worse and worse. When he had an actual answer for everything but they just wouldn’t listen? “Melissa demanded that dad take me for a check up and,” he shrugged, “I don’t know if she got on the phone to them before we got there or I’m just messed up and don’t know it but I didn’t get out of there.” He still hadn’t. Not really. He would still be in there now if dad had the funds.

He sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve. 

“I used to think he was keeping an eye on me. I thought I saw him a few times in Eichen and that just scared the shit out of me.” He wasn’t even going to deny it. “What else was he willing to do if I didn’t keep my mouth shut? If I didn’t stay where I couldn’t cause trouble.” He rubbed his face. “I know for a fact if I see him, if I speak to him I’m gonna say something. I’m gonna yell or throw freaking silver at him or something because he deserves it. I know what I saw, I know what happened and I know it sounds crazy and I’m really trying not to be so I just need to stay away from him.”

There. Done. His side of the story was out.

He took a few measured breaths before daring to glance to the side. “What did Scott say then?” he asked.

Derek didn’t answer. His hands were half curled in the leaves below them, gaze straight. Stiles didn’t think Derek even heard him. So he asked again, and promptly nearly flattened himself to the ground as Derek sprang up, racing off back the way they’d come without a word.

“W-” Seriously? “I poured my heart out and you’re ditching me?” 

He supposed this was the best he could have hoped for. It was a wonder Derek had lasted this long around Stiles.

He hung his head back, his feet telling him it was a bad idea as he gradually got to his feet. He wasn’t going to spend the rest of the day outside, so he headed home, his legs screaming by the time he saw his own front door. Dad was still asleep when Stiles stumbled in. He would be for another few hours yet, usually waking just before sunset in case Stiles needed him through the night.

As for Stiles, after kicking his running gear off, he fell face down onto his bed and slept boxing day away.

He woke to the sound of a car door slamming. Stumbling to the front window, he watched his dad’s car drive off, a disgusting five am greeting him when he finally found a working clock. 

Looked like Stiles had slept through the full moon.

That was an accomplishment. His dad wasn’t home too so Stiles treated himself to an unhealthy breakfast, lounging on the couch until someone knocked on his door. When he looked through the peephole he just saw blood. Lots of blood. “Stiles?” 

He looked again, “Derek?” Sure enough, Derek’s weird beard stared back at him. He opened the door, keeping the chain on as he asked, “What happened?”

“Fight with Scott,” Derek sighed, hand clenched tight over his stomach.

“Scott?” Scott did that? He opened the door properly, Derek stumbling in. He didn’t look good. A lot of the blood on his body looked to be his. There were slashes on his clothes, rips and cuts that were still bleeding. “What, did he have a knife on him?” Stiles grabbed a towel, sitting Derek on top of it while he went to fetch the disinfectant.

“More like claws,” Derek grunted, falling onto his back. 

“Very funny,” Stiles tried dragging Derek’s hand away, a whoosh of blood bubbling up before Derek put pressure on it again. “I think you need to go to the hospital.”

“No,” he grunted, body seizing before relaxing. “I would’ve gone to Deaton if it was really serious. It’ll heal.”

“Heal?” That didn’t look like it was going to heal anytime soon. Except Derek held his other hand out to Stiles, the broken skin of his knuckles bubbling over until there was smooth skin there again. “Wh-”

“Scott’s a dick,” Derek huffed, smiling a little, “And a liar.” 

A liar? What- “You’re not funny.”

“I’m not laughing,” Derek snapped. “Come on Stiles, you basically accused me that first full moon. You’ve known what I am for years.”

Werewolf. Derek was a werewolf. A werewolf with claws that were growing on the hand wrapped around his own. 

Stiles dropped it, his chest going tight because- because- because he was right. He was right. He’d always been right and, “Why are you doing this to me?” 

Derek shuddered, curling in on his injured side and, yeah, Stiles supposed there were more important things to be worrying about right now. Grabbing another towel, he took over applying pressure, Derek shaking the whole hour it took for his body to repair itself. All the while Stiles couldn’t help but watch. Watch as skin knit and sewed itself back together. Even muscle healed. Scott had gotten Derek good on his side, ripping out a good portion of his stomach, yet it healed. Right in front of Stiles’s eyes.

A shower and a promise to replace the bloody towels later Derek was slouched on the couch in clothes that didn’t really fit him. Stiles couldn’t stop looking at him. Without the blood he would have thought it hadn’t happened. But there it was, stained into towels that were sitting on the living room floor. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” Stiles asked again. Why now? Why prove to him now that he wasn’t insane?

“Because what Scott did is monstrous,” Derek said, plain and simple. “I thought you were just… dancing around the topic so I wouldn’t have to admit anything.”

They had been speaking in hypotheticals, Stiles remembered that. Derek hadn’t said werewolves didn’t exist. Just that if they were and if he were one, things, really someone would say if they didn’t want to be the first person to admit they knew what was really going on. It was a game of chicken that Derek thought Stiles had been playing. “So I was right.” He’s been right all along. If people came and asked Derek he could show them proof. Stiles had proof that he wasn’t crazy.

“You were right.”

Stiles climbed onto the couch, sitting, what was probably far too close, to Derek. “Show me.” Then, gentler, “Can you show me? You did,” he flexed his hand, “With the claws so…”

Derek pulled a face, but in an instant his features had changed. There was a lot of hair. A lot. Dad would think Stiles had been hiding a secret dog when he came back. Derek’s eyes were different too. A more vivid blue. 

“Your nose is cute,” Stiles booped, Derek whacking him away, changing back to normal as soon as Stiles looked again. “Oh come on, it is.” He might be a bit hysterical as he ran his fingers across Derek’s smooth cheeks. “You fought Scott over me,” Stiles realised. “Twice now.”

Derek’s lip curled even as he leaned into Stiles’s palm. Someone liked being petted. “He shouldn’t have done that. If you were a danger then I can see why he would. But even Scott admitted that it had just been a hastily put together plan he thought up when he was moon mad.” Derek grabbed his hand. Not moving it away, but not leaning into it anymore either. “You’re angry.”

He was, Stiles realised. He was more than angry as he realised just what being right meant. “I think I might need to smash something.” He couldn’t move. It wasn’t just because Derek was holding him either. “Maybe later.” He just couldn’t move, it was all just… His hands were shaking when Derek let him go. He shuffled until he could properly sit, his entire three years of torture catching up to him. “I missed my graduation,” Stiles realised. “I could’ve been an FBI agent.” He wiped at his cheeks. He knew the freakout was coming and coming fast. Still, he had to know, “Why were you so beat up?”

“Scott’s just as bad,” Derek shrugged, “It’s how wolves settle disagreements.” So, what, Stiles was still a disagreement. 

“You didn’t tell me what Scott told you.”

Derek hesitated before saying, “I don’t think you want to know. It won’t help.” 

No. No it wouldn’t. Except for the fact that Scott was probably still trying to make himself seem like the good guy. “He always does this. Ever since we were kids he couldn’t be wrong. He always had to find some way to be right.” It was infuriating, and sure, Stiles knew he liked to be right as well, but at least Stiles could admit he’d done wrong when he was caught out for it. How many times had he covered for Scott when they’d been up to no good? Scott didn’t have to come with him. Scott didn’t have to do a lot of things, but he did them and he enjoyed himself and still he stabbed Stiles in the back. “I have nothing because of him.” Again, yes, it was his fault they were in the woods that night, but Scott could have just ignored him. He could have kept it to himself. He could have done a lot of things that didn’t involve framing Stiles to look like a nutcase. “I have to be on stupid medications. I have to freaking take the full moon off like some kind of- of- and for what? For what Derek?”

He was right. Stiles had been right all along. 

“I’m gonna talk to your dad,” Derek said.

“What?” No. No. “Why?” He couldn’t. Not yet. Stiles… he didn’t- he couldn’t- just not yet.

“Long story short? My uncle’s kind of the reason Scott’s a werewolf,” Derek said, his face twisted the entire time. “Scott should probably… but he’s in college so I thought my family could help pay off some of your loans. This never should have happened Stiles.”

“No, it shouldn’t.” It shouldn’t have gone this way. “But you didn’t tell Scott to make me look crazy. That’s not on you, that’s on him, and screw him being in college!” Oh, okay, the anger was really starting to take off now, “Because of him I can’t even afford a tutor to get my GED! I’ve had to spend my last five paychecks on meds to help me deal with his mess! This is not on you Derek.”

“It’ll help your dad,” Derek said, “And I’m not letting Scott off the hook. Believe me, I’m not. But at least I’m not going to take your house if you can’t pay Stiles.”

He could feel himself crying. Big fat tears as well. It was making it hard to look because yeah they needed help. But this wasn’t Derek’s mess and he honestly didn’t know what to think right now. “My dad’s going to freak out.”

“Probably,” Derek sighed, Stiles realising that Derek was basically waving goodbye to any favouritism he might have gained at the station by doing this. “At least he’s started talking to Melissa again. I’m sure she’ll help him cope.”

“Melissa?” Melissa? “As in Scott’s mom Melissa?” 

“Yeah. She found out a couple years ago,” Derek rubbed his head. 

A couple… “I think I’m gonna puke.” A couple of years ago. She’d known and she’d not said anything. She could have told dad. They could have gotten him out. He, yeah, he was gonna puke.

He made it to the bathroom, barricading himself in and just, well, freaked out. Cried. Puked. Blew his nose until he could literally taste the dryness in his throat.

It was dark when he came out, and it occurred to him as he walked back downstairs that Derek had probably heard all of that. He should have been embarrassed. Really he thought he’d kept it all quite contained. No going out and smashing things. No tearing Derek apart like Scott had. He’d just had a loud freakout in a bathroom and that’s it. That was how it should have gone. Scott should have just freaked out and left Stiles alone.

But no, and now he was walking in to find his dad on the phone. Derek was still there. He’d migrated from the couch to the corner, his arms crossed and still looking far paler than he should. Stiles grabbed him a snack, Dad grabbing his arm before he could get too close. “For God’s sake kid-”

“Dad- dad!” it took a few tries before he was heard, “If he was gonna hurt us he would have done it by now.” He yanked his arm out, finishing his walk over to Derek. “For crying out loud he’s on our side. And he’s injured so you have to be nice to him.” He kindly left out that Derek was healed as he retreated back to his dad.

He sat and just let the world pass him by for a while. Dad shouted. A lot. At one point the door went, and while dad didn’t let them in, Stiles had a good guess as to who was on the other side. Especially considering Derek got all huffy, his chest poking out a bit more than usual as he slouched in his corner of shame.

At some point, Stiles knew he would explode again, and he’d explode bad. Real bad. But for now he just, he couldn’t feel anything. This was all just so surreal. Surreal enough he hid his fingers under his legs and counted them, banging them against his thigh before reading the titles of the DVD’s in front of him. 

This was happening. This was real.

Dad left. For a moment it looked like he was going to drag Derek out with him. But some common sense seemed to still remain. Derek was nice to them. Derek wasn’t the problem, and Derek had been alone with Stiles so many times in so many more dangerous situations that if he’d wanted to kill Stiles he would have done so by now. So Dad left alone, and after a while Derek slowly crept back to his seat on the couch.

“You said, when I asked, that you don’t really talk to Scott. But that’s not true is it?” Photos didn’t lie and Stiles was sick of them.

“I don’t really talk to him,” Derek said. “I don’t. But he’s my alpha.”

“He’s your what?” Like some kind of BDSM thing?

Derek rolled his eyes like he could read Stiles’s mind, reminding him, “Like in wolf packs? There’s an alpha?”

“Oh.” Right. An alpha. But, “You’re older.”

“Yeah,” Derek muttered, face twisting. “A lot’s happened over the years. I used to be the alpha if that helps? But,” he shrugged, “Not anymore.”

“But Scott is.” And of course Scott would take charge. Of course he would.

“He is. And it’s very hard to say no to an alpha when you’re in their pack.” hence the letters Stiles was gathering. No wonder Derek looked uncomfortable handing them over.

“So why not leave? If you’re not happy, why not just let Scott do what he likes and you do your thing?”

“I mean I do,” Derek said. “But, it’s hard to explain. My family is in Scott’s pack. If I left, I’d be an outcast and, let’s just say lone wolves don’t do any better outside of the wild.”

Well, “That sucks.”

There were so many other questions he had. How was Lydia connected to all this? Did Scott turn Allison? Is that why? How did Derek become a werewolf? How did he let Scott beat him for the alpha? 

He ended up asking none of them. Instead telling Derek, “You’re a nice guy. I hope you know that.” Not a lot of people would try and fix their ‘alpha’s’ mistake. Especially to a guy who could just go ahead and blurt it to the rest of the world. Derek was putting a lot of hope in Stiles and his dad. 

Derek didn’t answer, but Stiles noticed the red tinge underneath his beard. Looked like Grumpy had a soft spot after all.

He sighed, leaning back against the couch. “I wonder what happens now.”

What happened was a long night of certain things coming to light. Of dad staying out until dawn and when he did come home he didn’t shout Derek into a corner again. He barely even saw Derek actually, Stiles blinking himself awake from where he’d passed out on the couch, to see his dad dropping down to the floor next to him. “I don’t know how you could ever forgive me.”

“Oh dad,” no. “This isn’t on you. Really. You did nothing wrong here.” Just like Derek.

It was those outside of this house that had.

Dad basically fired him. Just him. He glared a lot at Derek, but there was no double firing that day. “If you want the job back then that’s fair enough but you have your exams at the end of January and, urgh, I guess we need to see about his medication business.”

“Seriously?” What about it?

A lot about it, it turned out. Dad said there was no point in having him on them. The only reason he’d been forced to take them in the first place was because the doctors thought he was delusional. Before Stiles could even think about arguing, dad made a good point about, “Just think about what they’re doing to your system kid.” Stiles didn’t need them, so why poison his body any longer?

That wasn’t to say he wanted to give up all of his meds. Just because he wasn’t insane did not mean there weren’t things wrong with him. His anxiety was still there. Had been since he was a kid. His ADHD, the paranoia, the insomnia. Although that last one dad was awful certain Stiles could do without. 

“You only took them because you thought you needed to. Stiles you slept just fine beforehand.”

But it wasn’t that simple. None of this was that simple. He couldn’t just be weaned off things. There was the psychological aspect to consider as well. Unfortunately they couldn’t pay for the therapy that would be needed to help Stiles shift from meds to no meds, and there was no way he was letting Derek pay for anything. Well, more than he already had.

It turned out dad really was in a bad place. It barely took any convincing for him to agree that Scott, or Derek since Scott didn’t have the money, would pay off basically all of Stiles’s medical bills. From there, he didn’t know if Derek was making Scott pay him or if the fact that Derek deferred to Scott meant that he got away with it, again. But as far as money, yeah, dad saw no problem in making the supernatural creatures of Beacon Hills pay for Stiles.

“How are you feeling?” he heard one awful sunny day at the beginning of January.

“That dad should have waited until after my exams to detox me.” He hadn’t slept. Just moving his arm from over his eye was a chore, Stiles’s whole body aching as another bout of shivers raked through him. 

Derek pulled a face at him, Stiles catching dad in the doorway as well. “Brought you some orange juice. This as well.” It was a card. Stiles had to get Derek to actually read it to him since he couldn’t do much more than sweat and exist right now. 

“Your poor wolf nose,” Stiles cooed as soon as he saw dad leave them alone. Derek stopped reading out the sentimental get well’s the station had written for him. “Just so you know, I don’t usually sweat this much when I’m at home. It’s not just something I contain when you’re not around. This is all drugs.”

“I don’t know, I’ve seen you when you run.”

Stiles barked out a laugh. “Oh he’s funny.”

Derek turned his head, Stiles catching a hint of a smile. “You do smell,” he eventually said.

“I know. I can smell me and I know it’s bad. God knows what you’re going through.” 

“It’s… not… that bad?” 

Stiles snorted. “Aw, that’s sweet. Look at you being sweet.”

“Really,” Derek huffed, almost like he had to defend himself now, “It’s not that bad.”

“Dude,” Stiles gestured at the literal human sized water stain he’d permanently etched into his bed sheets.

“You smell better,” Derek told him. Almost sincerely. “Before you just smelled like medication. You smell more like yourself now.” and oh, he hadn’t thought about it like that. 

Stiles hummed, wondering, “What is my natural smell?”

“Right now? Disgusting.”

Stiles snorted out another laugh, his body aching again as soon as he did. “Urgh, don’t make me laugh. It’s not fair. You’re finally acting like a proper normal human and I can’t interact with you.” The conversations they could have had. “Or maybe this is why you’re being like this. Maybe you can only be normal because I can’t interact with you. Interesting… come,” he patted the bed, “Let’s dissect this.”

Derek smirked, “I think the sleep deprivation is making you a little loopy.”

“You’re making me loopy,” Stiles huffed back. “It’s so unfair. Do you know how unfair you’ve been?” He didn’t wait for Derek to reply, telling him, “You just strut around in that weirdly tight uniform bending and flexing. And the shorts! The shorts Derek. It’s freezing outside. If you’re gonna pretend you’re normal you gotta at least pretend you feel the cold. Not,” he gestured at Derek’s jean clad knees. Those stupid unfair knees. “It’s so unfair.”

Derek laughed, leaning slightly closer to him, “You don’t like my shorts?”

“I think they’re not appropriate for the weather. Or my penis. But just you wait. It’s gonna be working in one to two months,” Oh god that was a long time. He flopped back onto his pillow. “I miss masturbation. Has it changed while I’ve been gone?”

“I don’t think it can change,” Derek said, a real, proper smile on his face. 

“That’s good.” It meant he wouldn’t have to go to another lesson. Although, masturbation lessons with Derek did not sound too bad. Maybe Lydia could sit in on them too. Oh yeah, he was very much looking forward to some of the perks that came after these horrible shakes.

“I don’t think Lydia would enjoy that,” Derek said. Stiles realised, after a moment, that he’d probably said that out loud. Which was a problem. One future Stiles could handle. Right now present Stiles was busy curling up in a ball because his stomach had started cramping. “Want me to get your dad?” 

Stiles shook his head. Dad had been dealing with this for three days now. Let him get some time away before he had to be put on duty again.

Derek sighed, his hand coming close to Stiles’s head. After a few grabs around he found Stiles’s own, holding on tight as wave after wave of pain laced through him.

Melissa got involved on day four. Weaning was dangerous. Flat out detox was even more so without the proper help. Even dad couldn’t argue with her when she showed him the articles. Meaning Stiles quickly found himself with an IV up his arm and Melissa promising to come check on him after her shift. Which- did she steal an IV for him? It looked like she had.

Derek visited every day he could. He even, one memorable occasion, showed up outside Stiles’s window. They didn’t talk a lot. Especially after Stiles had a good night's sleep under his belt. But Derek didn’t hold anything he had said against him either. Mainly Derek was just there. Sometimes he held Stiles’s hand. Other times he would tell Stiles something really stupid that had happened to him that day. It was weird being the quiet one for a change.

“Don’t get used to it,” Derek told him. “When you’re better I expect you to talk over any and everyone we come into contact with. Especially strangers at the grocery store.”

“I’m sensing a story there,” Stiles muttered. 

Derek didn’t deny it, just held onto Stiles’s hand that little bit tighter. 

He managed to grasp Derek’s chin with his other, booping his nose before that scowl warned him off from doing it again. “Thank you for being here.”

“Where else would I be?” Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged, his fingers gently grazing down Derek’s beard. “I used to have dreams like this all the time in Eichen. There was less shaking and general agony involved but,” yeah. He used to have a lot of dreams like this.

“I was there?” Derek made sure.

Stiles shrugged again, “What can I say, sixteen year old me found you hot. Terrifying. But hot. Come to think of it, not a lot’s changed since I still feel that way. But at least I know you’re secretly a teddy bear underneath all that scowl.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Derek told him.

“Yeah. But you’re the one who’s letting me be ridiculous, so this is on you.” 

Derek grinned at him, Stiles smiled back. Derek kissed his forehead seconds later, pulling a face as soon as he’d done so with a warned, “Don’t,” that had Stiles quickly closing his mouth, smile growing wider.

He flopped onto his back, watching the shadows on his ceiling move and shift. Sometimes they’d morph into faces. But they were just shadows all in all. “If this is a dream,” He decided, “This is probably the nicest one I’ve had in a while.”

“Well it’s not. So just get better,” Derek told him. “You have your exams to get to after all.” And after that, the rest of his life.

Nevermind that GED tests could be taken at any point. Or that English wasn’t even on the curriculum. Nevermind Stiles could have swore he heard an echo of his name in his ear, a pressure on his arm. He was free. Someone finally believed him and he was free.