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Derek sees a Jeep. He sees a Jeep on the road in front of him and his heart lurches in his chest. HIs hands tighten on his steering wheel. It’s not even the right shade of blue, and it’s probably about 10 years newer than the model it reminds him of, but it still smacks him right in the heart. Still makes him think of Stiles.
Derek swears under his breath and turns at the next street, just to get away from the Jeep ahead of him. The way he misses Stiles is like a constant ache. He had known that he had it bad for the kid, but thought he could manage it. Thought he could take the separation, live with it while he had to. For Stiles. But Stiles’ absence affects Derek’s every waking moment. He keeps driving, turning up the radio to distract his mind.
He winds down the roads of Beacon Hills, humming quietly along to the radio to keep his mind distracted. A few minutes later, the song changes. Derek recognizes the tune as Same Love within the first few chords, before Macklemore even starts speaking. “You have got to be kidding me!” Derek growls, swerving the car in a feeble attempt to drown out the vivid memory of Stiles, dancing around his kitchen while belting out that same song into a spatula. Derek shuts off the music and heads for his loft, seeking shelter in a place where his mind and heart won’t be so ridiculously vulnerable.
When he gets there, he slams the door of his empty loft behind him. There are many memories of Stiles here, but they are so mixed in with those of the rest of the pack that it’s easier to bear. He’s used to being around those memories. They don’t pop up and surprise him the way other ones have been doing lately.
Derek’s stomach grumbles as he tosses his keys on the counter and opens his freezer to reach for a microwave dinner. He nudges a bag of frozen peas aside, and caches a glimpse of a carton of ice cream hidden in the back. A pint of pecan ice cream. Derek would never touch pecan ice cream. It’s Stiles’ favorite kind, left there from the summer. A glimpse of Stiles sitting on Derek’s couch during pack movie night, spooning ice cream straight out of the container and laughing at the TV screen flashes through his mind. His heart lurches again and he wants to scream, to let out a rippling roar to help ease the wound in his heart that keeps being pressed.
The ice cream is the last straw. Derek walks over to his room, pulling a black bag out of his closet and throwing it on his bed. He grabs a sampling of clothes from his dresser and stuffs them inside the bag. When it’s full, he picks it up and stalks out of his apartment, down the stairs, to his car. He throws the bag in the passenger seat, starts the car, and begins to drive.
Five minutes into his drive, his phone rings. The caller ID reads Stiles and Derek’s heart skips a few beats. Stiles doesn't call. It’s part of the deal they made, that they won’t call each other. Derek answers the phone quickly, blurting out, “Stiles? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Stiles says, and relief flows through Derek’s body. “I mean, I’m not fine. I’m fine in the sense that I’m safe, physically okay. But I’m not fine, not emotionally. And I know-I know I’m not supposed to call unless it’s an emergency. But I’m going to count this as one. An emotional emergency.” Stiles plunges forward. "Listen, dude, I know we said we were going to wait until the end of the year to be together. So that I could live the college experience or whatever. Experience life as a normal, traditional college student. But that timeline isn’t working for me anymore. Derek, I don’t want to wait a year. Actually, I can’t wait a year. It’s stupid that I’m here and you’re there and I’m pretending to have this traditional college experience, when really I can’t because traditional is not a part of my life anymore. And right now, neither are you. And that’s not okay.”
“Stiles-“ Derek starts.
“No, listen, I’m calling it off,” Stiles continues. “This whole time apart thing. This whole distance thing. I don’t want it anymore. I want-I want you. I want you, here, with me. Or me, there, with you. And-“
“Stiles-“
“I’m not done! I don’t want to listen to your stupid arguments. I don’t even know how you got me to believe that having this space was a good idea in the first place. I just-“ Stiles’ voice breaks a little. “I miss you. I need you.”
“Stiles,” Derek repeats, softly this time.
He doesn't respond, but Derek can practically feel Stiles tearing up on the other end of the line.
“I’m already on my way,” says Derek.
“What?” Stiles asks, the wetness in his voice mostly drowned out by disbelief and the faintest touch of hope.
“I’ll be there in 2 hours,” Derek says. He presses his foot down harder on the gas pedal. “Scratch that, one hour, tops.”
---
Derek knocks on the door and Stiles opens it. He just there stands in front of him, and all Derek can see is Stiles. In his head he’d imagined a passionate reunion, one riddled with fiery kisses and unrestrained groping. But seeing Stiles standing there in front of him, all he really wants to do is hold him. So he does. He opens his arms and Stiles steps into them, curling his arms around Derek’s waist. Derek nuzzles his nose into Stiles’ neck and just breathes him in.
“Derek,” Stiles sighs, and Derek feels him relax into the hug, eyes closed, head resting on Derek’s chest, breathing in all that is Derek.
They stand like that for minutes, breathing each other in, feeling the solidness of each other’s bodies, taking comfort in their close proximity. Eventually, Derek slowly opens his eyes and lifts his head. He looks around the room in confusion. There is one bed, one desk, and one dresser in the tiny room.
“Is this your room?” Derek asked.
“Uh…”Stiles shifts back from Derek a little uncomfortably, keeping his hands resting on Derek’s hips. “Yeah.”
“I thought you had a roommate,” said Derek slowly. “The traditional college experience of a roommate.”
Stiles reached one hand up to scratch the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact with Derek. “Yeah, well, I did. But then I switched to this single. Like 2 weeks in.”
Derek looks Stiles straight in the eye, his own eyes flashing a hint of red. “What? Why? Did he do something?”
“No,” Stiles said reluctantly, sliding his hands off of Derek’s waist. Derek automatically misses them. Stiles walks over to his bed and slowly sits down on it. “I just…I didn’t like living so close with someone, alright? It’s like, having our stuff in the same room, being in the same room all the time, our smells were mingling.”
Derek snorted. “You’re a human. You can’t even pick up people’s scents.”
“Yeah, I know,” Stiles said, “But one day I picked up a shirt and it smelled kinda like his cologne, and it hit me that all of our stuff must smell like each other. That I must smell like him. And I didn’t want to smell like anyone else.”
“Anyone else but you?” Derek asks with a more understanding tone.
“Anyone else but you,” Stiles said, looking up to finally meet Derek’s eyes.
Derek has bite back a howl. He can’t even be mad that Stiles’ broke their pact to have a traditional college experience, complete with roommate. Instead, he leans down and kisses Stiles, softly, at first. Stiles responds by putting his hands in Derek’s hair. Derek shifts closer to him and deepens the kiss, brushing his tongue along Stiles’ lips until Stiles lets it enter his mouth.
“Derek,” Stiles sighs, and Derek clutches him even closer, resisting the urge to tear off every article of clothing Stiles is wearing.
“We should talk,” Stiles eventually says several minutes later when he pulls back slightly.
Derek nods into his mouth, but says, “Not now. Later. For now we just do more of this.”
They fall asleep next to each other, Stiles curved around Derek’s body, arm slung across Derek’s chest, legs intertwined with Derek’s. Derek pulls him close and falls asleep with his face resting in Stiles’ hair.
---
The next morning, Derek wakes slowly. He opens his eyes to see Stiles asleep, soft cheek resting on his chest. Derek is still wearing his jeans and boots, but he’s never been more comfortable. He simply watches Stiles sleep, memorizing the way he breathes, the way his eyelashes flutter a bit as he rests. He watches as Stiles eventually wakes up, and tightens his grip on Derek. He looks up at him through half-lidded eyes. “Hi,” says Stiles. “How long have you been awake?”
“A few minutes,” Derek says, then pauses slightly.
Stiles shoots himself upward at a pace that is far too quick for a morning. “No, Derek, I know that look on your face. I know, you’ve woken up and here we are, snuggled in bed together, and I know what you’re thinking. But this was not a mistake.”
Derek sits up against the headboard and speaks slowly, carefully. “I wouldn’t call it a mistake. But…” he doesn’t quite know how to finish yet.
“I’m gonna wait for you to finish before I start convincing you that I’m right,” Stiles says, waving his arms wildly in the air. “So get it all out of you now. I can be patient.”
Derek can’t help but grin a little at the idea of Stiles being patient in a conversation.
“Stiles, you know how I feel about you,” Derek says, brushing his fingers up Stiles’ arm. “But you’re supposed to be enjoying college. We made this deal so that you could live a normal college life. Experience it without werewolves and kanimas and having to be tied down to anyone back home. I’m not saying you should sleep around-“ Derek’s stomach tightens at the prospect-“But you should at least be enjoying yourself. You’ve already broken the deal by moving into this room.”
“Don’t act like you aren’t happy that I don’t smell like anyone else,” Stiles said. “I noticed how much you sniffed me last night, Sourwolf,” Stiles retorts.
Derek just narrows his eyes at him in response the interruption and Stiles clamps his mouth shut.
“I don’t want you to miss out. You’re 18. You should be getting involved in clubs, trying new things, meeting new people…not thinking about ones you’ve left behind,” Derek finishes.
Stiles waits to make sure Derek is done speaking before he responds. “I’m doing all of those things, Derek. But me being here, me doing those things, doesn’t change how I feel about you. I can’t have the traditional college experience. Derek, my life involves the supernatural. Nothing about my life is normal. And as for doing normal things…Derek, I go to these parties. I join these clubs. I look around, and you’re not there. I think about you all the time. Everything reminds me of you. You’re in my life whether you’re around or not. There’s just no point in living a life that you’re not actually in.”
Derek’s heart pounds quickly in his chest and he feels himself starting to break down. “I just don’t want to hold you back,” he admits, staring down at his hands.
Stiles grabs Derek’s arm in frustration. “You are not holding me back, Derek! Not everything is your fault! You have to stop blaming yourself. It’s not your fault that I can’t have the traditional college life. It’s not your fault that I’m in love with you.”
Derek’s head snaps up. “What?”
Stiles blinks, and his cheeks turn red. “I..” he trails off and looks away before changing his mind and looking Derek boldly in the eyes. “I’m in love with you, Derek. I love you.”
Derek can’t breathe. He physically can’t breathe. He stares straight into Stiles’ soft brown eyes. Seconds go by in silence. Then minutes. They just stare at each other. Derek can hear Stiles’ erratic heat, beating quickly in his chest. He is awed by Stiles’ bravery to just stare, but he knows it won’t last long.
His mind is reeling. He’s never said those words to anyone. Never trusted anyone with them. For good reason. But Stiles is here, and he’s said them, and Derek knows, knows, how he feels about Stiles.
Stiles, as always, beats Derek to breaking the silence. “You don’t have to say anything, dude. I just wanted you to know,” he says with a shrug.
Stiles gets up from the bed, stretching and turning towards the door. “I’m starving. What say you we finish this conversation over breakfast?” he asks.
Derek still can’t breathe. Doesn’t understand how Stiles can be talking about breakfast at a time like this. He slowly gets up from the bed and walks over to Stiles until he stands behind him and wraps his arms around him. He tucks his chin over Stiles’ shoulder and links his right hand’s fingers with Stiles’ left. They stand there for a few moments until Derek opens his mouth, cautiously, tilting his mouth right up next to Stiles’ ear.
Slowly, in a whisper so quiet it almost can’t be heard, Derek speaks. “I love you, Stiles,” he breathes.
He feels the grin on Stiles’ face and feels himself echo it back. Stiles turns around in his arms, and Derek immediately drops his eyes to the ground. Stiles reaches up and tilts Derek’ head up, forcing Derek to look him in the eyes. It’s the hardest thing Derek has ever done, the most vulnerable. They hold each other’s gaze for a few moments, and Stiles leans in and gives him a kiss, sweet and slow.
“Can we date now? Are we done with this distance thing?” Stiles asks.
Derek huffs. “Yes. I’ve already rented a place down the street.”