[ it doesn't actually hit stiles that he's just confessed that he's in love with derek until he's already climbing off of him. it doesn't even register that he's even said the word "love" until he's already tilting and shifting and lifting his weight with his knees so he can get up off of derek and - put on his fucking pants and handle this with as much dignity and maturity as possible. he knows he's said a lot, he understands that he's probably said too much and that he's made things weird and that if he had just - shut up and let things progress and not worried about whether or not derek was going to think he was being too sentimental over a first experience, they wouldn't be here. stiles wouldn't be painfully embarrassed and humiliated and struck with something that feels a little too close to heartbreak.
he only gets as far as bracing his hand against derek's torso and tightening the muscles in his thighs in preparation to move when everything that just spilled out of him catches up to him. i've been in love with you ever since that summer. stiles chest aches so bad and so suddenly that his shoulders hunch and his head drops a little with the intensity of it. this is not how he planned to tell derek - about his feelings, about anything really, if he ever even managed to get around to telling him at all.
this is what he'd been scared of. he'd been so afraid of admitting how he feels because the last time he was forced to face and accept his long-buried feelings for derek, derek had left. it's irrational to associate one thing to the other, and somewhere in the corner of his mind stiles understands that, but it just - it sucked, a lot, to have to stand there while derek was dying and accept that he was going to lose him, only to find him alert and alive and as beautiful as ever and - leaving. no warning, no explanation, no goodbye. and now it's happening again—
except stiles is the one that's trying to leave. stiles is the one trying to distance himself even though the last thing he wants right now, the very last thing he wants is to separate himself from derek, but at least this way— at least this way derek won't have to reject him so directly and it won't wound stiles as deeply as it should, if he just takes this into his own hands.
derek's hands are on his hips before stiles can do anything more than press his hand to derek's abs and brace himself to lift his weight up. he tells him to stop, holds him firmly in place with warm hands and a solid grip and before stiles can say anything at all, before he can start to stumble through another apology for having screwed all of this up, derek sits up. derek sits up and he puts his arms around stiles and he buries his face against stiles throat, and he holds on so tight that it hurts, and stiles starts wonder if maybe this is savable.
when derek pulls him in impossibly closer, when he takes his nose away from the side of his neck and lowers his head to press his forehead against' stiles chest, stiles puts his arms around him. he folds both of them over his shoulders and he tilts his own head down and he presses his nose into his hair and he holds on tight. his heart is beating a heavy rhythm against his chest, quick with anxiety and fear and love, and he just closes his eyes and breathes.
derek doesn't say anything at first, and that's okay. stiles doesn't say anything either, doesn't try to fill the silence with awkward, fumbling nonsense like he typically would. if and when he's ready to say something, it has to be important. it has to be meaningful and it has to serve a purpose, and he can't screw that up. when derek finally starts to speak, stiles opens his eyes just slightly. he keeps his nose buried in derek's hair, mouth resting lightly against the crown of his head, and he listens. he unwinds one of his arms and he settles his hand on the back of derek's neck, and he pays attention.
stiles eases his hold on derek just enough to let him lean back, but he's unwilling to let him go entirely, leaving his hand cupped over his nape and his other arm extended over his shoulder, arm straight and wrist loose. he lets derek take his wrist, lets him move his hand from the back of his neck to the side of his head, and when he kisses the inside of stiles' wrist, stiles' heart skips. his smooths his thumb across derek's temple, and when derek moves his hand again, when he sets it over his heart and lets go, stiles doesn't take his hand away.
when i'm with you, i feel better. here in my head, and here. in my heart. stiles swallows and he tries to breathe around the tightness in his chest, pressing his hand a little more firmly against derek's chest. he wants to feel his heartbeat. he wants to be able to hear it the way derek hears everyone else's. even when derek puts his arms back around him, stiles keeps his hand flush over his heart.
stiles feels... oddly calm. where before he was panicked and scared and uncertain, he feels grounded and only a little bit fluttery. he doesn't have to to be a werewolf to sense the anxiety rolling off of derek in waves, he doesn't have to smell the fear to know that it's there, and maybe that's the reason for his sudden placidity. the counter-balance.
it's hard, though, to maintain that quiet tranquility when derek continues. stiles' heart clenches faintly in his chest with his confession, and he almost interrupts, almost cuts derek off to insist that he is good enough but he catches himself. stiles knows derek well enough now to understand that talking about his feelings and his self-proclaimed weaknesses isn't something that comes easy for him, so stiles lets him talk even though he wants nothing more than to disagree with him and make him understand that he's wrong.
derek opens his eyes, finally, but he doesn't look at stiles. stiles wishes he would, but he doesn't force him to. he's struck by the guilt that shapes derek's features, wants to kiss his eyebrow and his temple, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. instead, he takes his hand off of derek's chest and he rests his palm gently against the side of derek's face. he smooths the pad of his thumb underneath derek's left eye, from the side of his nose outward the way one might if they were wiping away a stray tear or an eyelash.
stiles has to bite back the urge to argue again. he breathes in and he breathes out and he cards his fingers through derek's hair and he shakes his head subtly in place of interrupting him. derek is a good person. even at sixteen, stiles was already, slowly starting to realize that derek wasn't the terrible person he mistook him for. at eighteen, stiles knows derek better than he knows almost anyone else, and he'd defend derek's character until the end of days if he had to. derek is a good person. stiles is determined, now, help him see that it's true.
when derek finally, finally looks at him, stiles offers him the tiniest of smiles. it's faint, and it's soft and it's reassuring. he's not bothered by derek's eyes. it doesn't matter to him if they're red or if they're hazel, because derek is still derek no matter his eye color. he smiles, but derek looks away, and stiles still doesn't make him look at him. not yet.
he's reminded, painfully, of how much derek doesn't know. how much he'll never be ready for, how much stiles is going to have to tell him. derek deserves to know about erica and boyd and isaac. he deserves to know about peter and cora and kate. stiles isn't going to fail this time like he did with allison, he isn't going to let the fear of being hated keep him from giving derek a chance to change his future as stiles knows it.
but right now is not the time for it, not when derek is vulnerable and afraid of the very things that are slate to happen to him. derek loosens his arms around stiles, but stiles just tightens his hold on derek. he flexes his fingers in derek's hair, fingertips dragging against his scalp, and he hooks his other arm behind derek's neck, holding him close. he leans in, gentle tracing the tip of his nose up derek's cheek so he can brush a feather-light kiss over an eyelid. ]
Derek, look at me...
[ he asks him quietly, and he waits, and when derek finally opens his eyes again, stiles offers him another smile, faint enough that it only barely pulls at the corners of his mouth. he dips his head a little to better look into them. after blue, red is one of his favorite colors. ]
You are enough. You're enough, and you're good — you're such a good person, Derek, and I'm sorry it took me as long as it did to see that when I was younger. You try so hard and you do so much and I know it's - hard for you to trust yourself, but that's. It's not your fault. You're not responsible for the things other people have done to you or - or what they've made you believe.
[ stiles swallows. his heart is as steady as it could possibly be. he breathes in, then exhales slowly, and he looks down for a second, lets his gaze linger on derek's mouth for a second or two before he tilts in to kiss him. it's chase and it's sweet and stiles drags his teeth over his own bottom lip. ]
But if you can't trust yourself... you can still trust me. I'm... I'm not going anywhere. You won't lose me. Two years of - crazy supernatural bullshit trying to kick my ass and I'm still here. You couldn't lose me if you tried.
[ he laughs a little, quiet and under his breath, and then has to take a breath and swallow to work up some courage. ]
I'm glad you've survived, Derek. I'm glad I know you, I'm glad we're - friends. And this isn't— it isn't how I wanted to tell you, but it's not any less true this way. ... I do love you. And I don't need you to, to say it back. All right? It's okay. I swear it's okay, and if it's weird— if it's weird, we can just - pretend I never said anything and I'll be okay. But I just. I think you deserve to know that.
no subject
he only gets as far as bracing his hand against derek's torso and tightening the muscles in his thighs in preparation to move when everything that just spilled out of him catches up to him. i've been in love with you ever since that summer. stiles chest aches so bad and so suddenly that his shoulders hunch and his head drops a little with the intensity of it. this is not how he planned to tell derek - about his feelings, about anything really, if he ever even managed to get around to telling him at all.
this is what he'd been scared of. he'd been so afraid of admitting how he feels because the last time he was forced to face and accept his long-buried feelings for derek, derek had left. it's irrational to associate one thing to the other, and somewhere in the corner of his mind stiles understands that, but it just - it sucked, a lot, to have to stand there while derek was dying and accept that he was going to lose him, only to find him alert and alive and as beautiful as ever and - leaving. no warning, no explanation, no goodbye. and now it's happening again—
except stiles is the one that's trying to leave. stiles is the one trying to distance himself even though the last thing he wants right now, the very last thing he wants is to separate himself from derek, but at least this way— at least this way derek won't have to reject him so directly and it won't wound stiles as deeply as it should, if he just takes this into his own hands.
derek's hands are on his hips before stiles can do anything more than press his hand to derek's abs and brace himself to lift his weight up. he tells him to stop, holds him firmly in place with warm hands and a solid grip and before stiles can say anything at all, before he can start to stumble through another apology for having screwed all of this up, derek sits up. derek sits up and he puts his arms around stiles and he buries his face against stiles throat, and he holds on so tight that it hurts, and stiles starts wonder if maybe this is savable.
when derek pulls him in impossibly closer, when he takes his nose away from the side of his neck and lowers his head to press his forehead against' stiles chest, stiles puts his arms around him. he folds both of them over his shoulders and he tilts his own head down and he presses his nose into his hair and he holds on tight. his heart is beating a heavy rhythm against his chest, quick with anxiety and fear and love, and he just closes his eyes and breathes.
derek doesn't say anything at first, and that's okay. stiles doesn't say anything either, doesn't try to fill the silence with awkward, fumbling nonsense like he typically would. if and when he's ready to say something, it has to be important. it has to be meaningful and it has to serve a purpose, and he can't screw that up. when derek finally starts to speak, stiles opens his eyes just slightly. he keeps his nose buried in derek's hair, mouth resting lightly against the crown of his head, and he listens. he unwinds one of his arms and he settles his hand on the back of derek's neck, and he pays attention.
stiles eases his hold on derek just enough to let him lean back, but he's unwilling to let him go entirely, leaving his hand cupped over his nape and his other arm extended over his shoulder, arm straight and wrist loose. he lets derek take his wrist, lets him move his hand from the back of his neck to the side of his head, and when he kisses the inside of stiles' wrist, stiles' heart skips. his smooths his thumb across derek's temple, and when derek moves his hand again, when he sets it over his heart and lets go, stiles doesn't take his hand away.
when i'm with you, i feel better. here in my head, and here. in my heart. stiles swallows and he tries to breathe around the tightness in his chest, pressing his hand a little more firmly against derek's chest. he wants to feel his heartbeat. he wants to be able to hear it the way derek hears everyone else's. even when derek puts his arms back around him, stiles keeps his hand flush over his heart.
stiles feels... oddly calm. where before he was panicked and scared and uncertain, he feels grounded and only a little bit fluttery. he doesn't have to to be a werewolf to sense the anxiety rolling off of derek in waves, he doesn't have to smell the fear to know that it's there, and maybe that's the reason for his sudden placidity. the counter-balance.
it's hard, though, to maintain that quiet tranquility when derek continues. stiles' heart clenches faintly in his chest with his confession, and he almost interrupts, almost cuts derek off to insist that he is good enough but he catches himself. stiles knows derek well enough now to understand that talking about his feelings and his self-proclaimed weaknesses isn't something that comes easy for him, so stiles lets him talk even though he wants nothing more than to disagree with him and make him understand that he's wrong.
derek opens his eyes, finally, but he doesn't look at stiles. stiles wishes he would, but he doesn't force him to. he's struck by the guilt that shapes derek's features, wants to kiss his eyebrow and his temple, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. instead, he takes his hand off of derek's chest and he rests his palm gently against the side of derek's face. he smooths the pad of his thumb underneath derek's left eye, from the side of his nose outward the way one might if they were wiping away a stray tear or an eyelash.
stiles has to bite back the urge to argue again. he breathes in and he breathes out and he cards his fingers through derek's hair and he shakes his head subtly in place of interrupting him. derek is a good person. even at sixteen, stiles was already, slowly starting to realize that derek wasn't the terrible person he mistook him for. at eighteen, stiles knows derek better than he knows almost anyone else, and he'd defend derek's character until the end of days if he had to. derek is a good person. stiles is determined, now, help him see that it's true.
when derek finally, finally looks at him, stiles offers him the tiniest of smiles. it's faint, and it's soft and it's reassuring. he's not bothered by derek's eyes. it doesn't matter to him if they're red or if they're hazel, because derek is still derek no matter his eye color. he smiles, but derek looks away, and stiles still doesn't make him look at him. not yet.
he's reminded, painfully, of how much derek doesn't know. how much he'll never be ready for, how much stiles is going to have to tell him. derek deserves to know about erica and boyd and isaac. he deserves to know about peter and cora and kate. stiles isn't going to fail this time like he did with allison, he isn't going to let the fear of being hated keep him from giving derek a chance to change his future as stiles knows it.
but right now is not the time for it, not when derek is vulnerable and afraid of the very things that are slate to happen to him. derek loosens his arms around stiles, but stiles just tightens his hold on derek. he flexes his fingers in derek's hair, fingertips dragging against his scalp, and he hooks his other arm behind derek's neck, holding him close. he leans in, gentle tracing the tip of his nose up derek's cheek so he can brush a feather-light kiss over an eyelid. ]
Derek, look at me...
[ he asks him quietly, and he waits, and when derek finally opens his eyes again, stiles offers him another smile, faint enough that it only barely pulls at the corners of his mouth. he dips his head a little to better look into them. after blue, red is one of his favorite colors. ]
You are enough. You're enough, and you're good — you're such a good person, Derek, and I'm sorry it took me as long as it did to see that when I was younger. You try so hard and you do so much and I know it's - hard for you to trust yourself, but that's. It's not your fault. You're not responsible for the things other people have done to you or - or what they've made you believe.
[ stiles swallows. his heart is as steady as it could possibly be. he breathes in, then exhales slowly, and he looks down for a second, lets his gaze linger on derek's mouth for a second or two before he tilts in to kiss him. it's chase and it's sweet and stiles drags his teeth over his own bottom lip. ]
But if you can't trust yourself... you can still trust me. I'm... I'm not going anywhere. You won't lose me. Two years of - crazy supernatural bullshit trying to kick my ass and I'm still here. You couldn't lose me if you tried.
[ he laughs a little, quiet and under his breath, and then has to take a breath and swallow to work up some courage. ]
I'm glad you've survived, Derek. I'm glad I know you, I'm glad we're - friends. And this isn't— it isn't how I wanted to tell you, but it's not any less true this way. ... I do love you. And I don't need you to, to say it back. All right? It's okay. I swear it's okay, and if it's weird— if it's weird, we can just - pretend I never said anything and I'll be okay. But I just. I think you deserve to know that.