
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1041855.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale
  Additional Tags:
      Mates, Romance, Porn, Past_Kate_Argent/Derek_Hale, Bottom_Stiles
      Stilinski, Happy_Ending, Schmoop
  Series:
      Part 1 of Mates_(I_Mean_Forever)_Verse
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-11-12 Words: 9158
****** Anchor ******
by Anyaparadox
Summary
     Derek Hale has absolutely no idea how to tell Stiles Stilinski that
     he is his mate. So he has him research it, because if Stiles has all
     the information he's bound to figure it out sometime. Right?
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
 
 
Derek finds himself in Stiles’ room again. He’s not really surprised, not when
he’s managed to end up here three times in the last week alone. Stiles isn’t
home, he’s still at lacrosse practice, but his window was open and Derek lets
himself lie down on top of Stiles’ covers.
He likes the room. It’s small but cozy, and it smells like sweat and teenage
boy. Specifically, a single teenage boy. One that has become a serious problem
for Derek, starting from the first moment they were in a car together and
culminating in a pool where he almost died.
Stiles is a problem for a variety of reasons, most of them including the way he
simply cannot mind his own business when it comes to anything supernatural
related, but Derek’s main concern is the fact that Stiles is his mate.
His mate who is decidedly underage, obnoxiously sarcastic, and entirely too
self sacrificing for Derek’s piece of mind. 
So, yeah, Derek ends up hanging out in Stiles’ bedroom a lot. It’s more of a
home to him than his apartment ever will be, even though the loft has started
to smell like pack recently. 
Derek has always pictured his life in Beacon Hills; he used to dream about his
own house with a mate. He used to think about dinners with his family, and
early mornings at work, and children laughing as he played with them before
dinner.
Kate smelled like flowers and smoke, and Derek would have sold his soul for one
more minute with her; he knew the moment she glanced at him that she was the
one for him. It didn’t matter how many times his mother had warned him to be
careful, or how many times he thought it was odd that Kate wouldn’t touch him
in public. If she was his mate, there was a reason for it. They were meant to
be together.
She wasn’t his mate.
He didn’t figure it out in time, or in the way most teenagers did when they
realized their lovers weren’t meant to be forever. His heart went straight past
broken into dead territory, and it never really healed; it functioned purely on
revenge and hatred.
Kate had burned his whole life down: his house, his family, his future. He had
nothing in Beacon Hills anymore.
He left all his dreams behind when he headed to New York, and he always swore
that he would never make the same mistake again. Something like a mate didn’t
exist, at least not for him.
He would never have what his parents had; there would be no laughter and kisses
and disgustingly cute Sunday mornings curled up with tea and crosswords. Derek
didn’t deserve any of that, because his parents didn’t get any of that anymore
either; they burned together with their family and it was Derek’s fault.
Imagine his surprise when he made his way back to Beacon Hills, when he found
his sister’s body and realized he was entirely alone in the entire world, and
then suddenly: Stiles.
There is a boy with a run down jeep and a smart ass mouth and he smells like
the forest and happiness. Derek manages to push Stiles’ forehead into his
steering wheel, leaving a bruise that haunts him just as often as Kate’s
laughter does.
At first, Derek hates him. He hates him so much it makes him burn inside, and
he can’t seem to stop himself from feeling it. Stiles is smart, and a good
judge of character, and Derek can’t seem to stay away from him. He’s got brown
eyes that see through absolutely all of Derek’s bullshit, and he stays anyway.
Derek hates him because he wasn’t there when Derek needed him. He hates him
because all he’s ever wanted was for Stiles to be the one he met first.
Eventually, the hate becomes tolerance, and Derek decides that if he must work
with Stiles he has to learn to distance himself. He makes lists up in his mind
of everything that Stiles does that Derek doesn’t like. He thinks of new
reasons not to like him daily.
It doesn’t matter how many reasons Derek has when Stiles drops everything to
help him, even though he doesn’t like him. 
Derek knows Stiles doesn’t like him, he can smell it. Stiles always smells like
a mixture of annoyance, arousal, and frustration around him. Derek wishes he
could put that on a list as a reason Stiles shouldn’t matter to him, but
instead it becomes a reason Derek cares. Stiles doesn’t like him, and he
doesn’t hide it. Stiles doesn’t pretend.
He isn’t hiding anything; he doesn’t dislike Derek because he’s a werewolf. He
dislikes him because he’s an asshole.
It all comes to a head in the swimming pool. Derek hates the pool, always has.
It stinks of chlorine and he can’t hear anything but the lapping of water
against the edges. It’s in this complete vacuum of scent and sound that
something changes.
Derek realizes he doesn’t just like the sound of Stiles’ heart, or the smell of
his emotions.
He just likes Stiles.
He likes him even more when he jumps in to save him, puts his arms around him
and pulls him close. Derek likes him even when he’s mad at him, and he likes
him when he’s exhausted and his hair is plastered to his face.
He realizes he loves him when Stiles lets him go to phone Scott, and all Derek
thinks is ‘get away, please be safe, escape’even as he starts to drown.
Derek remembers his mother trying to explain the concept of mates to Laura,
Cora and himself. He remembers Laura laughing and rolling her eyes, and he
remembers Cora being too young to understand. He remembers being entirely
enthralled.
He’d never really fit in with people, not like Laura. The idea of someone who
was his, entirely, was magical.
His mother’s words haunt him now: ‘You know when you trust them more than you
trust yourself. When you want them safe, even if you’re not. When you want them
to be happy more than you want to live.’ 
Derek hadn’t really understood what his mother had been saying then, although
he thought he had with Kate.
He knew now. He would put a gun in Stiles’ hands with wolfsbane bullets and he
would trust him to never pull that trigger. He would trust him in a house with
his pack, would hand him gasoline and matches, and he’d never think twice.
The desire to do so is strong. Not literally, Derek doesn’t actually want to
hand Stiles a gun, he just wants to tell Stiles. He wants to be with Stiles.
Hell, he just wants Stiles.
Derek sits up slowly, deliberating whether the possible criminal charges from
Stiles father outweigh Stiles actually smiling at him for once, and realizes
it’s pointless to convince a werewolf that having his mate isn’t actually worth
it.
Stiles’ desk is surprisingly organized and Derek find the sticky notes in the
first drawer. He peels off a blue one, puts it on Stiles’ laptop and writes:
‘find everything you can on mates’.
It’s cowardly, and Derek knows it. Explaining the concept to Stiles would be
absolutely painful, and then to tell him he’s Derek’s mate on top of it would
be too much. Better to let him find out everything he wants to know on the
topic and come to his own conclusion, it’s much more Stiles’ way.
Derek disappears out the window when he hears a familiar heartbeat downstairs,
and he hates how insanely bereft he feels upon leaving.
 
===============================================================================
 
 
It takes three days of silence where Derek refuses to go back to Stiles’ room
for the text to come. Derek rarely gets texts, his phone is usually used for
calls when someone is dying. The number pops up with no name, seeing as Derek’s
address book consists of Laura’s old number, the hospital where Peter was, and
a single person from the apartment building he and Laura lived in in New York.
It’s Stiles, of course, which Derek expected: ‘dude, why’d you have me look up
mates? Scott and Allison thing?’
Derek wonders how to respond when a second message comes in: ‘also, why were
you in my room, you could just text me.’
‘didn’t have your number till now.’He leaves it at that, allowing himself a
moment to think of a decent answer to Stiles’ initial question.
 ‘what? weird. so are Scott and Allison mates? he’s wondering now’
Derek doesn’t tell Stiles that Scott shouldn’t wonder, he should just know.
Instead he tells Stiles what he knows: ‘my mom always said that a mate was
someone you trusted more than you trust yourself’.
Stiles doesn’t answer for a long, long time, but when he does it’s worth it,
even if Derek is halfway to his house by the time his phone lights up.
 ‘thanks dude, I’ll definitely look into it :)’
So his first smile came on text format, it still counted.
 
===============================================================================
 
He doesn’t hear from Stiles for nearly a week. He spends one afternoon sitting
on Stiles’ bed and flipping through an old comic book, but he puts it carefully
back on the shelf where it was and disappears the moment he hears the Sheriff’s
cruiser pull into the driveway. 
Derek runs a lot; as a human, down old sidewalks and dirt roads, and as a
werewolf, through the forrest to the edge of the Hale land. He gets familiar
with his parent’s territory again, and even though he doesn’t mean to he almost
always ends up back in the burnt out shell of his house.
He thinks about fixing it up, renovating all the old rooms; creating a porch
with a swing like Laura wanted, and an office with bookshelves and comfortable
chairs for Stiles.
He thinks about burning the rest of the goddamn thing down.
That’s where he is when he finally hears from Stiles: sitting on the charred
steps of his house. Surprisingly, it’s not a text that comes in, his phone
actually rings.
“Hello?” Derek answers, his voice sounding a bit rusty from disuse.
He can practically hear Stiles’ agitation through the phone, “Hey, dude, so
look, I’ve researched everything I can on mates, and it is a hell of a lot!
There’s some contradictory shit here too, is it possible for you to swing by
and tell me what’s legit? I’m updating the bestiary on it.”
“Yeah,” Derek stands, “I was just out. I’m picking up food, want anything?”
“Holy shit,” Stiles’ breathes, “you’re offering me food? You’re being nice?
Why, sourwolf, this is fantastic.”
Derek scowls. “Shut up, Stiles.”
Stiles laughs, “Curly fries, please!”
Derek hangs up on him, cutting off his laugh. He misses the sound when he
shoves his phone back in his pocket, but he doesn’t let himself linger. He
shifts and takes off, heading to his loft to change and grab his wallet.
He’ll need money for the stupid fries.
  
===============================================================================
 
Stiles is sitting on his bed when Derek hops up on the roof by the window.
There are papers spread out everywhere, and Stiles is frowning. He jumps when
he hears Derek climb in, and his frown disappears when he sees the container
Derek is holding.
“You actually brought me fries, oh my god, dude.” Stiles grins, snatching the
fries from Derek’s hand. Derek is preening on the inside, the wolf proud to
provide for it’s mate; he mentally shoves that part of him down, scowling at
Stiles as though it’s his fault that Derek can barely control himself (it
istechnically his fault).
Derek moves papers and sits on the bed opposite Stiles, pleased to note that
Stiles’ bed smells only like himself and Derek. Scott hasn’t been over since
Derek was last here.
“Scott hasn’t been over recently?” Derek asks. He’s surprised he managed to
break the silence first, but Stiles has his mouth crammed with curly fries.
Derek hates that he finds it kinda cute when in reality its pretty gross.
Stiles swallows, “No, he’s always with Allison. And stop sniffing my room, you
weirdo.”
Derek scowls, “You’re the one who told me to come over, I can’t help it.”
Stiles frowns, “Yeah, so about that. I found all this info, but some of it
seems super weird. Like, I don’t actually think it’s true?”
“Like what?” Derek asks, genuinely curious now. He doesn’t really know all that
much about mates in reality; he knows how true mates are meant to act, and he
knows how it feels to have your heart walking around outside your body, but he
isn’t really up on the logistics.
“Well, one website said werewolves like when their scent and their mates’ scent
mixed, which seems like it’s probably true. Scott doesn’t like it when Allison
smells like anyone else.” 
“It’s true.” Derek confirms. He hates the smell of lacrosse on Stiles; he
doesn’t mind the sweat, it’s all the equipment and other people lingering
after. 
Stiles nods, marks down something on the paper, and then shoves the pen in his
mouth. Derek fights to sit still, his eyes locked onto Stiles’ mouth. He’s
pretty sure they’re glowing.
“This one says that werewolves are extremely possessive and territorial.”
Stiles says slowly. “Especially Alphas.”
“Yeah.” Derek nods.
Stiles scowls, “But it’s saying possessive and territorial in the way where
they lock their mates up and they’re not allowed outside or to have friends or
anything. That’s extreme, dude, like abusive.”
Derek feels a growl reverberating up his chest and he cuts it off just in time,
managing only to say, “That’s not true. We’re possessive and we get jealous,
but to a similar degree that regular humans do. I’m sure there’s some crazy
werewolves, but there’s crazy people too.”
Stiles looks surprised at all of Derek’s words, but then he nods: “That does
make sense, otherwise Scott would have killed Isaac.”
“Isaac doesn’t like Allison.” Derek is positive about that much. Sure, Isaac
thinks she’s hot, but he’s entirely interested in Scott and everyone with a
working werewolf nose knows it.
Stiles grins, “Dude, yeah he does. It’s all Scott ever talks about.”
Derek wants to let Stiles in on the secret, but he’s sure Isaac doesn’t want it
to be public knowledge. “No, he’s got his sights on someone else.”
Stiles scrunches up his forehead, “Is that why you wanted me up to date with
mate lore? Did Isaac find his mate?”
Derek rolls his eyes, “No, Stiles, it’s just something we should know.”
“Okay,” Stiles asks, flinging the pen accidentally off the bed, “this one is
weird. I’m not sure what to think of it. Do werewolf mates get a longer life
span? Any perks? A couple of databases went on about how werewolf mates could
live longer and heal faster, but most said that they couldn’t.”
“I think that it depends on the werewolf they’re mated to.” Derek frowns. “My
dad   could tell when we were unhappy or upset, without us saying anything. He
couldn’t smell it, not like my mom could, but it was like he was so attuned to
her that he knew what was happening with us, too.”
Derek has never told anyone that before, and he glances down at his hands at
the tense silence that follows. He’s not even sure why he said anything, except
that Stiles’ room smells like happiness and both of them, and he’s never spent
this much time with Stiles without something trying to kill him.
“My mom was kinda like that,” Stiles finally murmurs, “I don’t know if your dad
was a werewolf mate thing, or just because he loved your mom and you. I feel
like sometimes people just know, you know?”
Derek glances up even though he’s not sure if he’s ready to meet Stiles’ eyes,
but he wants to anyways, because Stiles has never talked about his mom before,
and it’s important. Stiles isn’t looking at him, he’s staring at the mass of
papers in front of him.
“Do you think humans have mates?” The question comes out of nowhere, and Derek
isn’t exactly sure what to say. He’s spared from answering when Stiles
continues to ramble: “I mean, I know that we don’t have mates like werewolves
do, I mean, we don’t feel that shit in our soul or whatever, but do you think
that there’s someone that’s meant for us? Fuck, I mean... I don’t know what I
mean.”
Derek is silent for a moment, and when he answers Stiles his heart races,
because he’s never told anyone this, and he never wanted to tell Stiles, but he
is. “I thought Kate was my mate.”
Stiles flinches and finally, finally makes eye contact. His brown eyes are
glassy, but they don’t waver when Derek continues: “I thought she was, and I
was wrong. Werewolves aren’t supposed to get it wrong, but they do. It’s more
common than I thought, especially then. I don’t know about humans, but I know
we fuck it up too, Stiles. But it does happen, mates are real. I didn’t think
so for a long time, but they are.”
Stiles eyes are calculating, and Derek feels fear scorch down his spine. He
knows that look, and it usually appears before Stiles figures something out.
“Are Scott and Allison mates?”
Derek shrugs, “I don’t think so, but I’ve been wrong about an Argent before.
Usually the werewolf just knows, it’s different for everyone.”
Stiles stands up, sending papers flying. He flings himself onto his desk chair
and Derek watches him in exasperation.
“Any more questions?” Derek asks. He’s desperate for more questions, but he’s
also jumping out of his skin. He wants to leave because he feels like an ant in
a microscopic lens, but he loves Stiles’ room.
“None for now, I’ll text you,” Stiles mutters, his hands flying over the
keyboard, “I gotta find a way to tell, damn. Thanks, dude.”
Derek disappears out the window.
 
===============================================================================
 
Beacon Hills is finally settling down. There are no Alpha packs, no rogue
anything, and Derek has managed to not only keep the windows in his loft
unbroken, he’s also painted his room. He has a new mattress, and he gets one
for the guest room too, even though Isaac hasn’t stayed over in weeks.
He buys a television and a cable box, and not once does Derek watch it, but it
still sits there and he pays the bills, because one day he’s sure someone’s
going to want to use it. 
Eventually, Derek buys groceries. He buys canned soup, and fresh fruit, and
pastas. He even gets a cookbook and stocks his freezer with meat. He buys a set
of pots and pans, and he manages to make spaghetti.
It’s nowhere near as good as his mom’s, but he’s pretty sure she’d be proud of
his effort.
Stiles texts him now, like it’s a regular thing. Usually it’s just something
about some research he’s doing, a casual ‘yo, what about inter-pack dating?’ to
which Derek managed to respond ‘what about it? you find another werewolf pack
we didn’t know about?’.Derek is much more eloquent over text, and he wonders
why it didn’t ever occur to him to use that for his advantage. Stiles sends him
‘haha’ and ‘:)’and on one particularly memorable occasion he even says: ‘yeah,
love you too, sourwolf’.
(Derek saved that one).
They haven’t seen each other in a few weeks, but Derek’s pretty pleased with
himself for at least opening a line of communication. It’s slow going, but he
has a terrible reputation with relationships that move too fast, so it’s okay. 
It’s okay even when Stiles sends him: ‘so is knotting a real thing?
explain.‘and Derek chokes on his cereal. He doesn’t answer the text
immediately, letting his cell phone sit on the table and taunt him. Eventually
he works up the nerve to type out: ‘yes it is, no I am not explaining, go look
on the internet’.
He wants to die up until the moment his cell phone buzzes again and all Stiles
has said is: ‘hot’. Derek leaves his phone there with his forgotten cereal and
makes his way to the shower where he lets his imagination run wild with images
of Stiles on every possible surface of his house.
Stiles doesn’t text him for five days after that exchange, and Derek hates
every second of silence. He goes for four runs in thirty-two hours, and he
manages to find an omega that was stirring up trouble and send him on his way
before anyone else has to get involved.
In the end, that’s what breaks the silence. His phone buzzes when he’s lying on
his comforter, wishing it smelled like anything other than detergent, and he
brings it to his face only to see ‘STILES’ flashing across the screen.
‘are you okay?’.
Derek isn’t really sure what Stiles means, but he dutifully types out: ‘yeah,
why?’
Stiles calls him instead of responding, and Derek holds the phone up to his
ear, unsure about what Stiles could possibly have to say after ignoring him for
the better part of a week.
“What the actual fuck, dude.” Stiles says.
Derek scowls, “What?”
“You don’t text me at all this week, which isn’t a big deal except then you
went and chased down an omega,” Stiles voice rises, “by yourself,and you didn’t
tell anyone! I found out from Deaton! Deaton, who only knew because he ‘felt
the intruder leave’ or some mystic bullshit!” 
Derek is surprised, “What do you mean I didn’t text you?”
“Why is that the part of the sentence you listen to!?” Stiles is furious, Derek
can hear his heart pounding through the phone line.
“The omega wasn’t a big deal, Stiles.” Derek says, keeping his voice low and
calm.
Stiles practically explodes, “It wasn’t a big deal?! I get that you’re the
fucking Alpha, okay, and you’re tough and you don’t need anyone, but if you had
gotten hurt, Derek, and no one knew where you were... Jesus, man. What is
wrongwith you?”
“What is wrong with me?” Derek snaps, “What the hell, Stiles? No one offered to
help, I just took care of it. It’s over, it’s done, he’s gone.”
“And I don’t count? What the fuck!? I research whatever you throw at me, I know
more than anyonein our pack about the supernatural, I’ve played back up a time
or two, and you think I wouldn’t help?” Stiles voice cracks slightly, “Fuck
you, Derek.”
The line goes dead before Derek can even defend himself. He’s not even sure
what he would say. He’s angry at Stiles’ accusations, and he’s furious with
himself for upsetting his mate. More than that, though, Derek is lost. Stiles
had said ‘our pack’ as though it was something set in stone. As if he had
always been a part of Derek’s pack, as if he was protecting it.
He said it as though he was claiming Derek, and Derek wanted that more than he
had wanted anything in a long time, but he wasn’t sure if Stiles actually knew
what he was saying.
Derek needed to know.
 
===============================================================================
 
Stiles is sitting on his bed again, this time with no papers or books
surrounding him. He’s sitting quietly, and still, which is something Derek
rarely sees. Derek drops through his window silently, and Stiles turns to look
at him. He’s composed now, but Derek can see red splotches on his cheeks that
are a telltale sign of anger, maybe even sadness; he doesn’t know Stiles well
enough to tell the difference and he hates that.
“You probably think I overreacted.” Stiles says softly, and Derek wants to curl
himself around his lanky body, press them so close together they can’t tell who
is who.
“No,” Derek says, “you were right.”
Stiles’ eyes widen momentarily, then narrow: “What do you mean? What do you
want?”
Derek sits on the side of the bed, hands clasped, facing away from Stiles. It’s
hard to look at him when he sounds hurt and accusatory. At this point, Derek
was hoping they had moved past that point and were, if not friends, at least
trusted acquaintances.
“I don’t want anything, Stiles. You were right, I should have told somebody
where I was going, what I was doing.”
“Not just somebody, Derek, you should have told me.” Stiles snaps.
Derek scowls, “What?”
Stiles shuffles on the bed to sit beside him, and Derek can feel him glaring
holes in the side of his head, “You should have told me. We’re friends now, you
can’t take it back. I text you literally everyday.”
Derek glances at him, angry, “You haven’t texted me in a week, I’m not going to
text you and randomly tell you I’m going to hunt down an omega on the loose!”
“I texted you last, after the whole... knotting thing, and then I was
embarrassed I had said that to you, and you never texted me back... but I kinda
thought you’d keep me up to date on the life or death front even if you didn’t
want to be my friend!” Stiles cheeks are flushed ruddy now, and Derek wants to
take pictures of this moment. He wants photos of every moment of Stiles, and he
doesn’t care how creepy it makes him. He has no photos, not anymore, they all
burned, but he wants this: he wants Stiles angry, and sad, and blushing. He
wants albums full of Stiles’ face, and them together, and their future. He
wants children with ridiculous brown eyes and freckles, and he wants to hear
Stiles’ sing to them around the house.
“You said ‘our pack’.” Derek whispers, and he can’t bear to watch Stiles’ eyes
for this moment. He looks back to his hands and watches as his claws inch
towards the surface. His eyes are glowing red.
Stiles goes absolutely still, “I’m sorry?”
“On the phone, you said you know more than anyone in ‘our pack’ about
supernatural stuff.”
“So?” Derek can practically hear Stiles rolling his eyes, and he hates that
Stiles doesn’t understand what this means. There’s no one left that he knows
who understands this feeling; it’s something a born werewolf has. 
“I didn’t know you were in my pack. I didn’t know it was ours.” Derek’s not
brave enough for the rest: I didn’t know you were mine.
He knows when Stiles gets it because his heart goes into overdrive, and it puts
Derek even more on edge than he already was. Stiles, to his credit, doesn’t
move a muscle.
Derek can’t handle the silence, and he wonders when Stiles’ need for noise at
all times started rubbing off on him: “It’s fine if... you know, if that’s not
what you wanted.  I just... I just didn’t want you to think I didn’t care, I
do, I just didn’t think. You were right, I should have told you.”
“Holy shit.” Stiles manages to croak out, and Derek knows Stiles has finally
put all the pieces together. “Is this why you had me research mates?”
Derek finally looks up, and Stiles looks some sort of cross between exasperated
and terrified, which is probably what Derek looks like himself. “Yeah.”
Stiles frowns, and lets out a huge breath, “How do you know? This isn’t some
elaborate joke, is it, because that shit is not funny.”
Derek growls, “Why would you think it’s a joke?”
Stiles stands up, flailing briefly before turning to stare at Derek, “I think
it’s a joke because you hate me, dude. You push me against walls and threaten
me, and you hit my head against steering wheels, and I honestly thought we were
moving into near-friends territory and I was happy with that development
because I have got to stop falling for people that don’t even know I exist, and
now you tell me that you -- I mean, really, look at you, and look at me-- you
are my mate? You’re made for me, I’m made for you, all that crap? Like fucking
Disney shit right there?”
Derek’s brain isn’t exactly functioning top speed, so he can’t be blamed when
he somehow gets stuck on the words ‘falling for people’in relation to himself
and Stiles, but he is proud when he manages to stand up and get right in Stiles
face, and say: “Stiles, I don’t hate you. I never hated you. I tried, believe
me, and it wasn’t because of you that I tried, it was because of her.”
Stiles deflates a little at that, “You don’t want a mate.”
“I didn’t want a mate,” Derek corrects, “I didn’t want to be vulnerable, not
for a second.”
Stiles scowls, “And now? Why tell me if you don’t want me?”
Derek raises his hand, slowly, and puts it on Stiles’ chest, right above his
heart. He’s never touched Stiles gently before, and he can hear and feel
Stiles’ heart speed up under his palm.
“I never said I didn’t want you. You’re the only thing I want.” Derek murmurs,
and he’s enthralled by the way Stiles’ skin flushes and arousal seeps out of
him, “You’re perfect.”
Stiles steps forward, enough that he’s completely within Derek’s grasp now, “I
wouldn’t betray you. I’m not... her.”
The words are redundant, Derek knows he’s not Kate. He doesn’t smell like smoke
and sound sharp; Stiles isn’t afraid to yell, or touch him in public. Derek
knows Stiles would never betray him, never hurt him, but still, he soaks up the
words and the way Stiles’ heartbeat is steady and truthful. 
“You’re my anchor.” Derek says.
Stiles’ eyebrows furrow, “Sorry?”
“You asked me how I knew,” Derek explains, “it’s because you’re my anchor.
There are other reasons, of course, but anger was my anchor for as long as I
can remember, and you have been my anchor since the pool.”
Stiles surprises Derek, surging forward and kissing him. Derek has a second to
be stunned before he’s got Stiles against the wall and is running his hands up
and down his sides. Stiles winds his long legs around Derek’s waist and Derek
takes the weight like it’s nothing. His hands come around to grasp at Stiles’
ass, and Stiles runs his fingers through Derek’s hair, biting at his bottom
lip.
Derek manages to get them to the bed, spreading Stiles out on top of the covers
and lowering himself to press every inch of them together like he wanted to do
earlier. Stiles is panting, and Derek’s erection is painful against his jeans.
“Wait, stop.” Stiles says, and Derek freezes.
“What? Are you okay?” 
Stiles laughs, “I’m fine, but uh... I’ve never done this before?”
“Ever?”
“I don’t exactly have people lined up, dude,” Stiles’ voice is sarcastic, but
he breaks eye contact, “I haven’t done any of this, sorry.”
Derek leans his head down into the crook of Stiles’ neck, “Don’t be sorry.”
Stiles sighs, “Did I kill the mood? Ruin my chance at impending de-
virginization?”
Derek laughs into Stiles’ skin, and he wants this to never end. Stiles arms
have crept back up around Derek’s sides, and everything around him smells like
Stiles and forests and happiness. Derek flips them suddenly, liking the way
Stiles looks on top of him. It makes it easier for Derek to run his hands down
Stiles’ thighs, down the ridiculously tight pants he’s got on.
“It’s not ruined,” Derek says, “but I meant what I said. You’re perfect,
Stiles, just keep doing what you’re doing.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing, sourwolf.” Stiles rolls his eyes, “I’ve never had
anyone else in my bed.”
Derek growls, “And you won’t.”
Stiles grins then, mischief written all over his face, “You like that you’re
the only one to touch me?”
Derek sighs, “Obviously; did you learn nothing in the research about werewolf
mates?”
Stiles laughs and runs his hands down Derek’s chest, looking for all the world
like he’s amazed at the sight before him. “Derek, you have to know that you’re
perfect, too.”
Derek doesn’t believe him, it’s too ingrained in his psyche to ignore the
positive, but he’s pleased that Stiles cares enough to try to give him that.
Stiles smiles at him, and leans down, presses his lips to his and it’s
everything Derek has ever wanted to feel Stiles fall against him. Derek pulls
Stiles further into him, running his hands through Stiles’ hair and letting
their kisses turn deep and wet and messy.
Stiles finally breaks off, gasping for air and resting his face on Derek’s
collarbone. Hot breath ghosts along Derek’s neck, and it’s something he hasn’t
ever considered, how it would feel to tip his head to the side for his mate,
submitting in the most basic sense of the wolf.
He can feel Stiles’ erection through his jeans, and Derek wants to touch him
everywhere, he wants their scent all over the room.
“Stiles, wait.” Derek mutters, breaking the spell. Stiles stops kissing his
neck for a second, and Derek mourns the loss of contact.
“What?” Stiles sounds a little annoyed and a lot turned on. He sits up again,
resting on Derek’s hips, his hair mussed and lips kiss bitten.
Derek shifts his hands to rest on Stiles’ thighs, “You did the research. On
mates. You know... probably more than me.”
Stiles grins, “Derek admitting I know more? That’s a first!”
“Shut up,” Derek grumbles, “I’m serious.”
Stiles’ eyes are crinkled around the edges but he schools his smile into a
serious expression, “I did the research, yes. What’s up?”
Derek feels himself falter, because he knows how to touch and kiss, he knows
that he could flip Stiles under him and make it good. He doesn’t know what
words to say to make Stiles understand. He doesn’t know how to make Stiles
stay.
“Mates are kind of a forever thing.” Derek bites out, feeling his heart pound
in his chest.
Stiles looks shocked, but he doesn’t move, “My dad will absolutely kill me if
we get hitched.”
Derek nearly chokes on air, “I’m not proposing! Jesus, Stiles.”
“Well, you said ‘forever’,” Stiles mutters, looking embarrassed and shifting
like he’s going to get off of Derek. Derek lunges up and snatches at him,
effectively trapping Stiles within his arms.
“I meant it.” Derek growls, “I mean it. Werewolves mate for life. Stiles. For
life. I don’t want anyone but you. I will never want anyone but you.”
“So what’s your problem?” Stiles snaps. 
Derek scowls, “My problem is I’ve known about you being my mate for a while.”
“Which you chose not to tell me, and instead made me figure out through
independent research, as per usual!” Stiles glares at him. “What is your
point!?”
“I’m not messing around.” 
Stiles gapes at him, “I’m not messing around! You think that I just pulled you
into my bed for a good roll in the sheets!? Fuck you, dude.” He starts pushing
at Derek’s arms, and Derek convulsively tightens them.
“Stop, Stiles, stop, I didn’t mean it that way and you know it,” Derek pleads,
and something in his voice makes Stiles stop squirming.
“Derek, get to your goddamn point and get me naked, or get out of my room.”
Derek swallows heavily, because this is the moment he’s dreaded. He has always
hated explaining, he’s relied too heavily on the fact that werewolves can sense
distress and loyalty and lust and love. Stiles should just know, but he’s
human, and isn’t that just Derek’s luck?
“My point is that I know I want you. I know I want you now, and I’m going to
want you in a year, and I’m still going to want you when we’re fucking
seventy.” Derek hisses, “I literally think about how I’m going to build a home
for us, Stiles! I picture our children, and coming home to you.”
“Holy shit.” Stiles breathes.
Derek nods, “Yeah, exactly. So, when I say that I want you, that I want this, I
mean that I want the whole deal. I want everyone to know, I want to pick you up
from school, I want Scott to give me the scary best friend talk. Jesus, I even
want to come over and meet your dad. I’m talking forever here, Stiles, so think
this through. I mean it, I can’t have you and lose you.”
Derek finally lets go of him and Stiles doesn’t move. He doesn’t say anything,
but he’s on Derek’s lap, and his hands are precariously placed on his chest.
“That was hands down the most words you have ever spoken to me.” He finally
says, and Derek wants to die.
He glares at him, his eyes lighting red, “Really? That’s your response?”
Then it’s Stiles holding him still, and while Derek could easily push him off
and escape he doesn’t want to, not when Stiles has his hands on Derek’s
shoulders and legs locked around him.
“Stop,” Stiles commands, “I’m not an idiot, Derek. I know what mates are, I’ve
researched it, and I get it, I do. It’s just a lot to take in. I want you, I
want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone, and honestly, it feels like I’m
going to want you forever.”
Derek drops his head so it rests in Stiles’ neck, and then he whispers, so
quiet he doesn’t know if Stiles can even hear him: “What if you don’t?”
He feels Stiles wrap his arms tighter, “Derek, that’s a chance that everyone
takes. That’s what people do. I can promise you that it won’t ever change, but
we don’t know that. That’s human, not to know, it’s what makes us vulnerable.
You have to just trust me when I tell you that I want to be with you, and I all
the same things you want. You have to trust me.”
It’s as simple and as complex as that, and Derek knows it. Stiles wants him,
which is more than Derek ever thought he would have, and Derek trusts him. He
wants to make Stiles happy, and he’s willing to risk losing everything over it.
“I do.” Derek says, and then Stiles is pulling at his hair and staring at him,
assessing whether or not he’s said the truth.
Stiles grins, “Can we have sex now?”
Derek rolls his eyes but doesn’t push Stiles away when he kisses him, softly at
first as though he’s trying to communicate everything. It turns deep in an
instant, and Derek gets his hands under Stiles’ shirt and pushes it up,
breaking off their kiss to throw it over his head.
He runs his hands over Stiles’ chest, kissing at his jaw, tracking the freckles
that  run down his neck. Stiles is panting a little, making these noises that
go straight to Derek’s cock. 
Stiles pulls off Derek’s shirt, “Holy fuck, you are so out of my league.”
“Shut up,” Derek growls, turning them so that Stiles is suddenly planted on the
mattress under them. He reaches his hands down to unbutton Stiles’ pants, and
Stiles long fingers are suddenly there, undoing both of their pants.
“Come on, come on, hurry up.” Stiles says breathlessly, and Derek should have
figured he would be bossy. He pulls Stiles’ pants and boxers down in one
motion, standing up off the bed and strips himself down as well. Stiles is laid
out on the bed, watching him with hooded eyes. Derek’s chest feels tight with
want and happiness, and he clambers back on the bed to hover over him.
“I’m not going to lie, I’m going to come in like three seconds.” Stiles tells
him, and Derek can’t help but grin. He lowers himself onto Stiles, pressing
them so tightly together that Derek thinks he’ll never get the scent of Stiles
off of him, and he fucking hopes that he doesn’t. 
Stiles grabs at his back, running his hands over his shoulders. He’s making
these blissed out moans at his ear, and Derek feels like he’s going to die from
pleasure. He ruts against Stiles gently, and the sensation is insane; Stiles
digs his nails into his back and Derek feels himself rocking into him.
“Derek,” Stiles bites his lip, “fuck.”
Derek grabs at Stiles’ cock between them, running his hand up and down it.
Stiles gasps a little, and Derek is so torn between watching Stiles fuck into
his hand or his expression as Derek tightens and loosens his grip. 
Derek lets go and Stiles whines, “No, don’t stop, Derek, come on, fuck.”
Derek grins, and slides down Stiles’ body, ignoring his own erection grinding
into the bedcovers. Stiles goes silent for a moment, and when Derek bites at
Stiles’ hip he moans helplessly.
“No fucking way, dude, I’m gonna die if I don’t come.” Stiles brings one hand
to rest in Derek’s hair and Derek wraps his mouth around Stiles’ cock,
hollowing out his cheeks and sucking.
It doesn’t take long before Stiles is swearing, “Fuck, shit, oh my god, I’m
gonna come, Derek.”
Derek ignores his warning and swallows him down, licking him clean. He hums
into Stiles’ skin, pleased and happy with how Stiles’ smells now, content and
satisfied.
“Come here.” Stiles commands, and Derek crawls back up his body, licking and
kissing at any skin that catches his eye.
Stiles looks boneless and Derek wants that fucked-out expression on his face
everyday for the rest of their lives.
“You should fuck me.” Stiles says, mouth red and sinful.
Derek blinks in the face of his words, too stunned to think, “What?”
Stiles grins, lazy and teasing , “You should fuck me. Slow, so I recover, and
then you should come on me.”
Derek’s pretty sure he’s asleep, and this is all some dream that will haunt him
forever, seeing Stiles’ mouth form words that set his skin on fire.
“Really?”
“I know you want to,” Stiles smirks, “it’ll make me smell like you, like us.”
Derek snarls into Stiles’ skin, “Stiles, fuck.”
Stiles reaches over to his nightstand, pulling a small bottle out of the drawer
and throwing it at Derek. “Lube.”
Derek snatches the lube from midair and barely makes coherent words, “Condom?
Do you want me to wear a condom?”
Stiles is all warmth when he grins at Derek, “I hadn’t planned on it. I’ve done
a decent amount of research, and you werewolves can’t get anything, correct?”
Derek nods, mouth dry.
“And I’m a virgin.” Stiles says softly, “Or... was? I guess. I have them, if
you want one.”
Derek opens the lube and coats his finger, “Tell me if I hurt you.”
“You won’t,” Stiles murmurs, running a gentle hand through Derek’s hair, “I
trust you, too, you know?”
Derek kisses him, open mouthed and deep. He thinks that if he were to die in
this moment he would be content. He thinks a lot of things. He thinks that he
can never tell his children -their children- what happened when they got
together. He thinks that Scott is going to be such an annoying shit when he
finds out. He thinks he loves Stiles. He knows he loves Stiles.
He pushes a finger in, and Stiles wraps long legs around him. He adjusts
quickly, and soon he’s squirming for more and Derek obliges. He feels like he
might pass out, and Stiles is getting harder under him, smearing come on their
stomachs.
“Come on, Derek, come on.” Stiles urges, and Derek knew he would be impatient,
but his mate might kill him. He pushes in a third finger, curling it so it hits
just right, and Stiles throws his head back and moans. It’s fucking dirty, and
Derek bites down on the juncture between his neck and shoulder. He wants to
bite harder, wants to imprint blunt teeth on skin, and make sure everyone knows
Stiles is his.
Stiles smacks at him, “Jesus, dude, hurry the fuck up, I’m going to die if you
don’t put your dick in me right the fuck now.”
Derek laughs into his skin, and he never thought sex could be this way. He knew
it was hot, and sweaty, and sometimes a little uncomfortable because it’s two
people sharing an awkward amount of personal space, but he’s never laughed
before, or joked before, or felt like his heart was going to soar right out of
his chest.
He applies lube far too liberally on his cock, knowing Stiles probably won’t
thank him for the wet spot on the bed, and presses into him slowly.
Stiles tenses at first, and Derek leans down and kisses him, “You good?”
“Yeah, it’s good,” Stiles murmurs, and Derek feels Stiles give way to
relaxation as he presses further. Derek lets his free hand wrap around Stiles’
cock, stroking him as he finally sinks all the way to the hilt. He freezes,
waiting for Stiles to adjust, and it smells so much like them that Derek’s
afraid he’s going to come without even moving.
“Holy shit,” Stiles says, “move, come on.”
Derek rocks forward and Stiles pushes back, and everything goes a little fuzzy
at the edges. Derek feels Stiles biting at his shoulder, choked off gasps of
his name burning their way into his brain. Everything is too much and not
enough, and Derek thinks about the fact that now that he has this he can’t ever
go back.
“You’re mine.” Derek growls, hands gripping Stiles’ hips in a way that he knows
will leave bruises. He loosens his fingers, because as much as the thought of
marking Stiles up is appealing, he doesn’t want to hurt him. “Say it. Say
you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” Stiles is barely coherent, “Derek, fuck, I’m gonna- I have to-” 
Derek feels Stiles go rigid beneath him, a surprised yell getting caught in his
throat as he comes in between them. It’s enough for Derek to pull away, bereft
at the loss of Stiles, and come on Stiles chest as well. He collapses on top,
which is gross and kind of sticky, but Derek never wants to move, because
everything smells right: like mates, and happiness, and sex.
“Wow.” Stiles murmurs, and Derek should have known he wouldn’t shut up even
after two orgasms. Derek pulls him over so that Stiles is laying on top,
panting into his neck. He splays one palm across Stiles’ back, keeping him
close.
“Dude, we are so gonna need a shower.” Stiles observes, “We also need to change
these blankets, definitely. My dad will know, he’ll just sense it.”
Derek groans, “Do not talk about your dad after sex ever again. Also, I have my
own apartment, remember?”
Stiles laughs, “That is the best news. I’m coming over all the time now, you
realize that?”
“Good.” 
Stiles glances up from where he’s burrowed, sort of half smiling and half
surprised, “Really? That’s good? You want me there?”
Derek frowns at him, “Yeah, you’re mine.” 
It should probably sound silly, the way he says the words. As if he owns
Stiles, when Derek knows better than most that Stiles is his own person, and
Derek would give him everything he asked. Stiles seems to get it though, that
Derek doesn’t mean it the way it sounds, and that’s probably the reason they
work.
“You’re mine, too, you know.” Stiles says conspiratorially. 
Derek laughs, “I know.”
It takes them another ten minutes, but eventually Derek throws on sweats and
pulls Stiles’ blankets off the bed as Stiles goes to turn on the shower. He
puts the blankets in the wash, and peels his sweats off again to jump in the
shower behind Stiles. 
Stiles lets him wash every inch of his body, and Derek is okay with the fact
that their smells are fading because he has this, and every pore on Stiles’
body is going to smell like them if he has his way.
They make it out of the shower and back onto the stripped bed eventually,
curling together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Stiles talks a
lot, mostly about inane school stuff, and Derek listens. Stiles is endlessly
entertaining in the way he describes things, and Derek has never had an
afternoon like this, where he’s completely at ease.
At one point he gets up and changes the laundry over to the dryer, and when he
gets back Stiles is sitting at his computer, typing furiously on his cell
phone.
“What’s happening?” Derek asks, lying back on the bed.
Stiles replies, “Scott wants to hang out.”
Derek feels his stomach kind of drop, but he doesn’t move, “You can, if you
want to.”
Stiles pauses, mid text and frowns at him, “No, I told him I was busy, I want
to hang with you. I thought that was what you wanted?”
“It was,” Derek says, watching as Stiles stiffens. He amends his words, “I
mean, it is. I want you with me, of course. But I don’t want to keep you from
your friends.”
Stiles rolls his eyes, finishes his text and then sits on the bed beside Derek
again, “Look, Derek, you’re my friend. I want to spend time with you. Plus, I’m
kind of under the impression that you’re stuck with me, and that means we’re
dating now? Please, please tell me we’re dating and I’m not being insanely
clingy.”
Derek can’t help it, he feels himself start to smile at Stiles’ flailing rant,
“You want to date?”
“You don’t?” Stiles challenges.
Derek falters at that, and steels himself, “Stiles, will you please go out with
me?” 
Stiles grins, and it’s incredible to watch, as though Derek has personally hung
the moon for him, “Yeah, I- I’d like that.”
Derek flushes, and he feels his ears go pink, “Stiles, I’m serious. You’re not
going to be too clingy, and I’m not going to stop wanting you. If I had my way
you’d be moving in today.”
He hears Stiles’ heart go into overdrive, “Can you maybe ask me that in
question form after my dad has approved of you and won’t cut me out of the will
when I accept?”
Derek glances up in surprise, “You’d move in? Eventually?”
Stiles laughs, “How about you take me on a date first, and when I turn eighteen
we’ll talk.”
Derek grimaces, “I am ignoring the fact that you’re not eighteen. I’m also
ignoring that your father is going to put me in jail for touching you.”
Stiles shrugs, “He’s pretty reasonable, and I can be pretty persuasive. He
won’t put you in jail. He might ban us from being alone together, though.”
Derek whines, he can’t help it. It’s a little late for him to be separated from
his mate now. Stiles laughs at the sound and intertwines his fingers with
Derek’s.
“I’m pretty sure you can sneak in if he does that, you’re pretty good with the
window.” Stiles says, “Plus, he’ll give up on telling me what to do after a
week or so, he always does, I’m too annoying.”
Derek half-laughs, “You’re a little annoying.”
Stiles swats at him teasingly, “You’re the one dating the annoying dude.”
Derek grins at him, beyond pleased at the wording.
“I am dating you.” Derek says, trying the words out for himself, “You’re mine:
my mate.”
“You’re stuck with me, dude.” Stiles tells him, and Derek thinks that Stiles
says it in a way that implies it’s a bad thing, but Derek can’t think of any
combination of words that makes him happier.
Stiles is silent for a long moment, studying his face. “Derek.”
“Yeah.”
Stiles smiles, and it’s a funny smile: tight lipped and no teeth, like a
secret. “I know that... I know she probably had a way to twist words around.
You know, so you couldn’t hear her heartbeat to tell she was lying?”
Derek’s smile falls and he remembers the way Kate used to use words like
knives, making them sound the way he wanted them to, her heart steady in the
background. The one problem with being a werewolf is the reliance on strength
and power; Derek knew he could hear her lying, so he automatically assumed she
never did.
“Yes.” Derek manages. It’s the bare minimum of what he could tell Stiles, and
even though he trusts him, he’s not quite ready to share everything yet.
Stiles nods, and pulls Derek’s hand towards him, settling the palm over his
heart. His heartbeat is fast, and a little wild, but it’s nothing unusual for
Stiles and Derek is comforted by it’s sound.
“I don’t want you to ever think I’m lying to you, at least not in a bad way.
I’m probably going to lie about your christmas present, or if Scott complained
about you, but I’m not going to lie about important stuff. I’m not going to try
to trick you about us.”
“I know.” Derek says, and it’s true, but he likes that Stiles uses his words.
Stiles has so many words that Derek always knows what he’s thinking, and he
likesthat because he wants people to be blunt with him. Stiles makes sense.
“You’re my priority,” Stiles says, and his heart doesn’t skip a single beat, “I
don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want anyone else to hurt you, because I
love you.” Derek doesn’t move a muscle in his whole body, and Stiles heart is
beating crazy fast, but it’s steady in it’s speed and Derek knows he is telling
the truth. “I do love you.”
Derek changes his mind about his favorite words, because even though Stiles
telling him that he was stuck with him was good, there is nothing better than
hearing that Stiles loves him, loves him, and knowing it’s the truth. Kate
never said it, she danced around it like she danced around all her secrets, and
he only ever knew the truth when she burned his life away.
“I love you, too.” Derek whispers, and the words are easier than he thought
they would be for him. 
Stiles looks a little misty eyed, and Derek find himself glancing down at the
hand that’s still entwined together. Stiles’ heart is calming down finally, and
Derek thinks that maybe he does get this. He does get to have Stiles’ smell
around him, and laughter as he kisses him, and pictures taped to every wall of
Stiles’ every emotion.
“I’m bad at this.” Derek says softly, afraid that it will change whatever
Stiles has decided.
Stiles laughter is light, and Derek looks at him to see crinkled golden eyes
and love, “You’re fine. We’re going to be okay.”
Derek leans forward and kisses him, pushing him back on the mattress. He pulls
back just enough to watch Stiles grin at him, slow and pleased.
“You’re right. We’ll figure it out.” Derek murmurs, and he leans back in to
kiss him again.
End Notes
     This was supposed to be 2k of happiness, and instead it turned into
     like 9k of pure schmoop? So hope you enjoyed, come say hi on tumblr :
     )
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
