Being Us
This was heaven.
It was only mere days ago when Derek had chastised himself for wanting everything far too soon, for thinking that his repentance had been enough to be deserving of it yet. In truth, as he admitted to himself later, he had barely scratched at the surface of redemption. How could he have expected to have earned trust so easily and fast when he had never extended the same courtesy? Past misdeeds may be forgiven in time, but surely he could not expect them to be forgotten.
Yet, how had he found himself here? Being able to kiss and touch and breathe in the person he had thought out of his reach?
It must be a dream.
But, oh , his lips were softer than he had remembered them to be. His skin so smooth and warm.
His hands tangled in soft brown locks that had grown in the time he had last been allowed to touch them.
How could one person engulf all of his senses?
Honestly, Derek had all but accepted that their past together might be entangled with too much sorrow and regret to ever hope for something more to prosper between them. Nothing could be undone, as hard as he tried to make up for all that he had destroyed. And he couldn't fault Stiles for feeling that way.
So what had changed now?
The question ruined what would otherwise be a perfect moment, nagging at his mind, raising his doubt.
A kiss pressed to his jugular distracted him.
Did it really matter if it had led to this? Why would he inquire about changes when he could just be grateful?
His hands gripped Stiles' jaw, tilting his head so that their lips could reconnect. Closer. He wanted him so much closer. He wanted to lose himself in the sensations, in the smell that was so purely Stiles.
This, he thought. This is what people are talking about. What all the stories are about. What drove people to be brave.
Every sigh was a song. Every caress another turn of the earth.
And, hell, if he were sane, he would probably hide away forever for having those cheesy thoughts.
Insanity, this.
It was Stiles that broke the kiss at last. Panting, his hair in complete disarray, a flush staining his cheeks. His big eyes more golden than they had ever been, sparkling with mirth. Looking so full of life.
This, Derek thought again, his mind unable to come up with other explanations.
"Air," Stiles explained, smiling. One long thin finger ghosting over one corner of Derek's mouth.
"Bother," Derek said, surging forward, kissing him to express what he would neither say nor even think.
"Even you need it to stay alive," Stiles reminded him, slightly out of breath once more.
"Hmmm." Air seemed rather inconsequential when compared to what it felt like to trace kisses down a pale neck.
Stiles choked out a laugh, his hands pressing against his face to create some distance. "You're scratchy!"
"It's the beard," Derek said, unhelpfully, without intent to keep himself from letting it irritate the sensitive skin on Stiles' neck.
"And here I thought it was your prickly personality."
Oh. All the sensations had Derek almost forget what a smart-mouth his chosen could be. Good thing that he could engage that mouth now otherwise.
The next kiss was bruising, a little harsher than the ones before but it quickly mellowed out. It was an easy fight to win when your opponent's lips softened the moment they touched yours.
"I'm not prickly."
"Of course not," Stiles said, one hand patting Derek's cheek. "You're just as charming as a cactus. Which is prickly."
He frowned. "I can be charming." He had certainly tried to be so in a lot of previous interactions with the person claiming the opposite. In fact, Derek had never put in so much effort in being charming before. From anyone other than Stiles, Derek had gained affection rather easily. And from anyone other than him, it had never mattered as much.
Which reminded him ...
"You changed your mind."
The hand at his cheek stilled. Stiles narrowed his eyes. "I did. Smart individuals adjust their opinion from time to time, or so I've heard. "
A lot had happened that day. Derek could tell that the newest developments had put a strain on Stiles, had seen first hand the defeated look on his face, his blood-shot eyes. Maybe he rushed into this for comfort.
Derek tried not to wince at the possibility. "Why?"
He almost regretted bringing it up when Stiles removed his hand and walked a step back. But that was necessary for now. The distance would give Derek room to think.
"I'm not allowed to change my mind without being prompted to? Maybe I just needed time to come to a decision, and I took it? And now I've made up my mind?"
Derek swallowed heavily. "Have you? Made up your mind?"
Stiles froze, something that rarely happened. He was always in motion, always one thought ahead. Derek sometimes wondered if time just worked differently for Stiles, if everything just happened so much faster for him than it did for normal people. But now, he was caught up in the moment like Derek was, a fly caught in the spider's web, unable to move. Before he hastily looked down, Derek thought he saw a glimmer of guilt pass his features.
"You said I tend to overthink things. And you're right. It might have worked out for me in the past, but it doesn't anymore. I can't always plan 20 steps ahead, thinking about everything that could go wrong along the way. If today's failure taught me anything, it's that I need to pay attention to what happens in the now and not overanalyze things to fit into my narrative."
Derek briefly closed his eyes, swallowing down the rising disappointment. He should have known. After everything that had happened today with the Order, the accusation, the house search and them subsequently finding nothing to condemn the Order of the crime they had accused them of... He should have known that it would hit Stiles harder than any of them. That it would make him doubt every decision made prior.
"So what is this then? Another impulsive act you'll regret later?" He couldn't keep the bitterness from seeping through his tone.
"No!" Stiles stepped back another step, his head shaking.
"No? Are you sure?" Derek wanted to say something more biting but quickly realized that he was acting hurt before he was even sure of the damage inflicted. He tried to stay rational. "It's just that you were adamant that it was not the right time. That you weren't ready. And now, after one more defeat, you suddenly are? Guilt and regret can be powerful incentives, but you can't base decisions on them."
Stiles shook his head, a humourless laugh leaving his lips. "You act like I'm the mercurial one when my feelings for you have never changed. I've made it abundantly clear what you meant to me, it was you who couldn't make up his mind! I've put it all out there from the beginning! It's always been you, no matter how stupid you behaved or how hurtful. You just -" He wiped a hand down his face. "I can never get out of your orbit. It's not fair."
Regrets. Never forgotten. He saw them in Stiles' hunched shoulders, in his shaking hands. Grief for what could have been clouding the path ahead. If only they could leave it all behind. Maybe Derek would stand a chance now.
"So what else do you want from me?" Stiles shrugged, his palms open as if to show that he had nothing left to offer. "I already know that this might end up in disaster. I still can't change the way I feel. I want this. This could be good. And I thought you wanted it too." He shrugged again, implying that he was no longer so sure.
This must be a huge joke the universe was playing on Derek. He almost wanted to laugh.
"How can you not know?" Had he really been so ambiguous? Hadn't he expressed it clearly? He couldn't remember now.
Stiles seemed to misunderstand him once again. He flinched as if struck. "Know what?!" he snapped. "Maybe if for once you'd use your words instead of relying on subtext and me being able to read your mind, there wouldn't be any misunderstandings anymore. I'm so sick of always-"
"You're everything," Derek interrupted him. "Put in words. You're everything to me."
Stiles stared at him, speechless. Then his expression crumbled, mouth turning down and eyes scrunching shut.
"It's the truth." He gripped Stiles' shoulders, slightly shaking him. The eyes remained closed. "Everyone knows. I'm not hiding it. I thought you knew too." He framed his face, his thumbs rubbing comfortingly along his cheekbones. Why wouldn't he look at him? "Our past hardly gives me to right to declare so."
He tried to flatten the creases between his brows with his fingers, softly massaging his temples. He wanted to wipe the pained expression from his face, wanted those eyes to look at him as they did before, bright and vibrant.
Finally, Stiles opened his eyes. Derek looked into the troubled shade of whiskey, his heart squeezing painfully at the sight.
"I can't believe you," Stiles said, in a voice hardly louder than a whisper. "Not right now."
It was a stab to his heart, one he probably deserved. Derek nodded grimly. "So where does that leave us?"
"I don't think I can go back. Can we be just... us? Like we are now? Without expectations or plans for the future? Just for now?" Stiles looked like he was asking for the impossible, guilt once again clouding the bright whiskey colour of his eyes.
Derek looked at him, all too aware that they had reached a point where there was no turning back. They couldn't go back to the way they were. They either called it quits now or they'd find out what will happen, including uncertainties and doubts.
Patience, he had taught himself. Everything worth saving could be mended with time and effort.
"I'm fine with just being us." Flawed, broken us, he thought. "For now."