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ONE
Derek grunted, pulling the succubus off of Stiles in a quick, precise motion, his claws sinking into the flesh. He flung his arm to the side, panting slightly at the surprising amount of effort that he required before swiftly pulling Stiles to his feet.
“Alright?” His breath came out unevenly. He tried not to stare as he took in Stiles’ form. His shirt was tattered, showing bruises where the succubus had gripped him harder than he thought. The bruises followed the curve up Stiles’ neck, new ones beginning to show up slowly but surely. Derek sucked in a sharp breath when he saw a bite at the edge of Stiles’ jaw.
Stiles furrowed his brow, glancing over Derek’s shoulder towards the rest of his packmates, taking care of the succubus. His body stiffened as Stiles moved to wrap his hands around himself, pushing his shoulder back, and breathing in deeply. His eyes flitted over to meet Derek’s as he muttered, “Barely.”
Derek nodded, “That was a close one.” He moved to put his hand behind Stiles, ready to lead him towards the Camaro, before stopping. Noticing Stiles’ shivering form, he removed his own shirt. He offered it to Stiles. His eyes flushed as their fingers brushed, Stiles’ face already forming a smirk at his response. He glared without any heat.
Once again, his hand found itself lingering behind Stiles’ back, ready to lead him to the Camaro, but faltering when he realized that Stiles might not want to be touched after something so violating like that. He swallowed a lump in his throat; he wanted to comfort Stiles—if only he knew how.
There was a small pressure against his hand until all that he could feel was the soft cotton of his own shirt. His fingers sunk into the material, only the soft cloth forming the barrier between them. Derek’s eyes snapped to meet Stiles’ brown ones, a confused whine sneaking out of his mouth before he could stop himself.
Stiles shook his head. He moved his hands up, one resting on Derek’s shoulder as the other caressed his cheek. “It’s alright.”
“I don’t—I mean—I don’t understand …” Derek stumbled over his words, distracted as Stiles rubbed his thumb on his shoulder.
Stiles smiled. “I trust you.”
TWO
“You’d be willing to let people die rather than listen to Derek?!” Stiles yelled, his hands waving wildly in the air. Derek tried to move closer, to provide some sort of support, a way to let Stiles know that it was alright. But he couldn’t move his feet. Seven years since he’d come back and it was the same thing all the time.
Chris Argent refused to believe him.
His intel wasn’t wrong; Derek had Boyd and Erica follow the rogue werewolf, and despite eventually losing him, they returned with a heavy scent of fresh blood. His hands balled into fists as he tried to control his anger—and his hurt. He had to remain civil. He had to show them that Derek Hale was not the monster that they continued to suspect he was. No. Lydia had said it herself. Not all monsters do monstrous things.
Across from him, Chris sighed, “Stiles, how do you even know he’s not lying? He’s an alpha—”
“What does that have anything to do with this?” Stiles snapped, cutting Chris off before he could finish his sentence. Chris let out a deep breath, moving to take a step forward, before he changed his mind, three different glares—Derek, Stiles, and the Sheriff—stopping him in his tracks.
“I’m not accusing him of anything except for being manipulated by his instincts,” Chris explained. Despite his now slightly relaxed form, Derek watched as Stiles kept his fists tight. He held back the urge to run his hands over those fists, to remove all the tension—all the stress—that kept Stiles from being free. He wanted to marvel at the long fingers Stiles had, threading his own in between, providing a sense of comfort. He was almost desperate, desperate to hook a finger through Derek’s bracelet as it rested on Stiles’ wrist—the one with his triskelion for all to see. A mark of his pack. But he resisted.
Stiles was his emissary, and he had proven this argument to be his battle to win.
Stiles snarled, “Manipulated by instincts? Give me a break.”
“It’s true,” Chris continued. His voice took a gentle, more subdued tone, as if to pacify an angry child. That was a terrible idea. Derek could feel John’s glare intensify behind him—no one talked down to his son. “Derek’s an alpha. It’s only in his nature to want to defend his pack, his territory when something strange passes through. It could simply be some travellers. I don’t want to risk any of my resources when I’m already knee-deep in trouble with the Argent council, protecting you.”
Lydia piped up from behind Derek, “Well, you clearly do not understand that it’s because Derek’s an alpha that you should take this seriously.”
“I can’t,” Chris shook his head, shrugging his shoulders almost helplessly. “I don’t know if I can believe him. He’s been wrong before.”
Derek growled, giving up trying to seem calm and collected. He moved slightly in front of Stiles. Half of his body covered Stiles, but seemingly more threatening than protective. “I wasn’t wrong. I sensed a threat and I let you know. And I suppose to you it seems unwarranted since it was an Argent, but for me, it was a hunter, someone who could hurt my pack.”
Stiles put a firm hand on the back of Derek’s neck. Derek closed his eyes, tilting his head slightly in Stiles’ direction, and felt his emissary grow cold. He was using magic; a truth spell of some sort on himself, their last attempt at convincing Chris. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course, Stiles,” he replied swiftly. Derek listened carefully to Chris’ heartbeat, nodding at Stiles in confirmation to his silent question. He wasn’t lying.
“Then listen to me when I say that I trust him.”
THREE
Derek gulped as he watched Stiles’ thin shirt cling to his body. Soaked from head to toe, deep into his bones, Stiles looked like a drowned rat. He had been caught in the middle of a thunderstorm during a hike. Having quickly checked the weather, Scott and Allison had only packed a few umbrellas in case of an emergency—what with the likelihood of rain being so low—but had left them in their car. Derek got a call less than a half hour ago from Lydia, screeching about how she was going to kill Scott and his stupid hiking plan, and for him to ‘get his ass over there immediately before she died of hypothermia’. He had sped there, praying that John wasn’t on duty today.
Unable to look away, he watched as a small droplet slid down the side of Stiles’ face before coming to rest on the top of his lip. A pink tongue licked the droplet away, breaking Derek’s trance. He raised his eyes to meet Stiles’ brown ones, twinkling with mischief. Stiles winked and Derek felt a flush in his cheeks. He rolled his eyes, moving forward closer to Stiles, and brought up a towel.
“I didn’t bring enough spares,” he answered when Stiles gestured to his own wet clothing.
Stiles frowned, whining out, “I’m going to die from hypothermia. Why’d all the wolves get the dry clothes? They are literally unable to get sick. What about me? What about the easily sick human?” His shoulders sagged. Taking a big sniff, he gestured to his nose in an attempt to prove his case.
Derek rolled his eyes, gesturing to his car. “I left my sweater in the car. You can wear it.”
Stiles grinned from ear to ear, his wet hair sticking to his forehead. Forgetting the ground was muddy and slippery, he moved to follow Derek to the Camaro, slipping when his ankle twisted. Derek spun around, a look of concern on his face. With a quick pace, he walked back carefully towards Stiles.
He rested a hand on his ankle, feeling around for a sore spot. “Ow!” Stiles exclaimed when Derek touched a particularly painful area. He looked up sheepishly, pain evident on his face, “I think I may have twisted my ankle.”
Derek sighed. He gave him a soft smile. The concern he was feeling definitely wasn’t going away anytime soon and Derek doubted that it would until they got his foot checked. They may have had a sarcastic, bickering relationship, but it was filled with mutual respect and care. If anything happened to Stiles—or anyone in his pack—Derek would never be able to forgive himself.
Scott, having arrived just as fast as Derek had, offered Stiles’ his towel. Derek took it upon himself to wipe the dirt off of Stiles’ face before removing his shirt. He put his own dry sweater on instead, allowing Stiles relief from wet clothes. Derek kneeled on the ground with his back facing Stiles and gestured for him to climb onto his back. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll carry you to the car.”
Stiles goaded, “I’m a little heavy. Been building up some muscle, you know.” He grinned as he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck.
Derek chuckled. He teased him with a cheeky smile, “I’m fine with it, unless you’re scared.”
“As if,” Stiles retorted. He moved even closer to Derek, leaning into the older werewolf’s neck and pressing his lips to the junction. “I’m never scared when I’m around you, Der.”
Derek felt his throat tighten.
“I trust you.”
FOUR
Derek could feel Allison’s smirk from across the room, her eyes never leaving their bodies, as Stiles looked up above them to the mistletoe hanging in the doorway.
“Allison!” Derek snapped, “When’d you put this up?”
She blew him a kiss before hopping towards Scott. “A couple of hours ago. I was trying to get Jackson and Lydia to kiss and make up, but Boyd and Erica have been huddling under it for the longest time.”
Erica scoffed from where she was sitting, wrapped up in Boyd’s arms, “We’re not ashamed of our love. We take every and any opportunity to share it with the world .” Boyd smiled into Erica’s hair.
“Fine. Take it off. Now,” Derek gritted the words out.
Stiles pouted, mirth dancing in his eyes, “Am I really that bad to kiss, Der?”
Derek rolled his eyes, moving his hand to rest on Stiles’ waist. He pressed his fingers slightly, before answering, “No, not at all. But I don’t want to kiss you against your will, Stiles.”
Stiles lowered his voice, huskily replying, “I give my complete consent.”
Derek gulped. It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to kiss Stiles—in fact, he really did! But it was too much pressure to do it in front of everybody. And this was not how he wanted to kiss him for the first time. And he hadn’t wooed him yet. This was not part of the plan he’d come up with. While Stiles’ used to have his ten-year plan to woo Lydia Martin, which evidently failed, Derek had his ‘I’ve got to ask Stiles out at some point in this lifetime’ plan, albeit a slow moving one.
“Make the kids go away and I might,” Derek whispered back. He felt his entire body stiffen up. Derek didn’t know when the mutual respect that the young boy had earned when he was still only sixteen had changed into pure attraction. He had wanted to ask Stiles out well before he became his emissary, hesitating if only because of his own fears.
Stiles grinned, “Kids,” he snapped his fingers for emphasis, “vanish. Daddy and Papa are trying to kiss, dearies.” The pack laughed, a few of them whistling at them before exiting the room.
Derek felt a blush rise into his cheeks, burning the tips of ears with heat. Stiles moved closer. Being almost the same height, with Derek being just a tad bit taller, meant that Derek could look right into Stiles’ eyes.
And boy, oh boy, did he. Derek wanted to drown himself in those brown eyes. He felt his heart beat fast, continuing to race faster than it had ever before.
Looking into Stiles’ eyes … It felt like looking into someone’s soul—no, Stiles’ soul. All of the anguish the boy had gone through, the anger he had felt, lingered as if a part of him, a chip on his shoulder. But the laughter, the strength, and the courage he continued to feel made him invincible.
Derek’s breath hitched. Stiles carried the stars in his eyes, constellations upon constellations swirling around as small, peppered flakes. Stars burned brightly, rivaling those surrounding them outside in the night sky. He could build a home in there—he almost scoffed—as if he hadn’t already. If he wasn’t too careful, Derek would get lost in there and there was no telling what he wouldn’t do to remain
“What are you waiting for?” Stiles mumbled, his nose brushing Derek’s.
Derek’s reply was even softer, a whisper, his breath ghosting on Stiles’ lips. “Just making sure this is okay.”
Stiles’ reply was soft before he pressed his lips onto Derek’s, immediately nipping the top lip. Derek wound an arm around Stiles’ waist, the other raking through his hair, pulling Stiles’ closer to him than possible. The two melted into each other.
It was as if the wind echoed Stiles’ sentiments exactly, whispering into Derek’s ears like a soft melody.
I trust you.
FIVE
All he could feel was absolute and utter joy for a split moment before it all came crumbling down around him. He wished he could be anything but afraid, yet his bones creaked with doubt and the wind whispered his fears. There was no way Derek could be someone who his son would be safe around.
Stiles looked up from where he was wrapped around Kai, questions lingering on the tip of his tongue. “You okay?” He mouthed, afraid to break the moment.
Derek’s tongue felt like lead. They had finally gone and adopted the three-year-old after months of searching for his parents, and today marked the first day they would be together, as a family. Their decision had only been further cemented when they realized that Kai was a wolf just like Derek, aching for a pack to call his own.
Stiles had fallen in love immediately. He took Kai out for trips to the park, showing him off to the other town folk. They had decorated the room with Wonder Woman posters and stickers, and Star Wars merchandise. Kai had already called Stiles his papa. But Derek hesitated, dancing around his own son, with only small smiles to reply to Kai’s calls of “Daddy!’.
He’d been amazing with kids when his family was still alive. Surrounded by tons of his cousins and having younger siblings of his own, he was everyone’s favourite older brother. Derek would take them out to the movies, the library, even to the carnival whenever it came by. It wasn’t the same anymore, though, was it? He was older now and Derek had gone through hell. He wasn’t sure he could ever be the same person that he was before; the fire changed him and losing Laura … losing her was the final straw. All that remained with him was a craving for family woven into all the horror he’d faced.
He was tainted. He couldn’t envision himself as a father to someone so pure, so full of raw potential. Derek couldn’t bear the thought of ruining Kai, the fear chasing all of his hopes away. Stiles, no doubt, would be a wonderful father. But him? Probably not.
“Derek,” Stiles asked, stopping Derek’s spiral just as it was about to lose control. “He’s asleep.”
Derek blinked. “We should take him to his bed.”
Stiles nodded. Moving in the opposite way from the bedroom, Stiles moved closer to Derek. “Is something wrong?” His voice, ever so soft, felt loud in the silence of the room.
Derek rubbed his hand over his face, dragging it down, before smiling. He gestured to Kai, sleeping soundly in Stiles’ arms, and whispered, “He’s … he’s just so … small.”
“Yes, he is,” Stiles agreed. Furrowing his brows, he pressed on, “What about it?”
Derek’s voice cracked as he answered, “I don’t want to hurt him.” Derek watched Stiles’ eyes remain focused on his face, searching for something he didn’t quite know how to find, until finally meeting Derek’s. He smiled, a small comfort as Derek struggled with his words. “I don’t want to ruin him. Not like how I ruined myself.”
Stiles shook his head. “You didn’t ruin yourself. You’re not ruined.” He lifted his hand and grabbed Derek’s jaw, grip gentle yet firm. “You are not what happened to you. You are what you chose to become when the opportunity presented itself. I’m proud of the man I see in front of me today. Proud. And I know when Kai gets older—hell, even now—there’s no one he’d more proud of than his Dad.”
Derek felt the tears slip down his face. He couldn’t control it anymore. His shoulders shuddered as he took in a deep, watery breath. This was the man he loved, the one who forgave him no matter what. The same man who looked beyond him to see what was good when all he could see was the worst.
Stiles smiled. “Do you want to hold him?”
“I’m scared,” Derek’s voice wavered.
“I trust you.”
+ ONE
Derek flipped Stiles’ hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing tightly. Today was the day that everything changed—whether for good or for bad, he wasn’t able to say. He hoped it was good, fuck, he really hoped it would be for good.
He watched as Stiles kept rambling on about one of the kids in his kindergarten class and how he kept trying to woo this other boy with flower crowns. “—It was the cutest thing, I swear, Der!” His cheeks were flushed and his free hand was waving wildly, almost knocking the tray out of a waiter’s hands. “And he kept trying it with differe—oh, sorry—different flowers. It was the most precious thing I’ve ever seen. I swear.”
Derek chuckled, “I believe you. I only wish I saw it for myself.”
“And then, Kai, fucking Kai,” Stiles continued. His face was bright with joy, cheeks almost flushed pretty pink with excitement. “Our sweet, innocent, precious little boy went up to Deepika and asked her if she planned on becoming a mad scientist.”
“I heard about that,” Derek replied, “he said he was going to plan a trip to Mars with her. Apparently, it has something to do with building a dinosaur park there and charging people incredible amounts to enter.” Derek looked beyond Stiles’ head over to the waiter, trying to signal with his eyes that this was the perfect time for them to come with the dessert round. Thankfully, one of them caught his eyes and they began to swiftly move towards them.
Stiles quieted down when the waiters dropped off the cake, piping out a quick “Thank you!” before picking up his fork.
Derek had worked tirelessly for the past couple of weeks to find the perfect ring. Lydia had helped him with all of today’s extravagant plans. They’d gone to an art gala, invitation given by Isaac. Then, they’d gone wine tasting. Even though they had planned on making that one of their classier stops, Derek and Stiles had spent a lot of their time pretending to be connoisseurs with exaggerated accents, irritating a few of the members around them. And for the final stop of the night, they had gone to Stiles’ favourite Italian restaurant. Lydia had managed to talk to the chef and had hidden the ring within Stiles’ cake.
“So, I told him that maybe he should consider becoming an astronaut with all those space books he’s got,” Stiles explained, bringing a fork full of cake—and the ring—to his mouth. “And he’s like ‘Papa! That’s an awes—oh!”
Derek watched as Stiles removed the ring from off his fork and cleaned it. His eyes widened comically when Derek took it from the palm of his hand and kneeled down, clearing his throat out. He gently held Stiles’ left hand in his, “Stiles, I have never loved anyone more than I have loved you. You make me feel like I can be half the great man you are. You’ve given me a chance at a family, you and Kai, and have made me the happiest man in this world. I’ve been dreaming of a future with me and you for a while now. Will you marry me?”
Tears streamed down Stiles’ face as he croaked out, “You want to marry me?”
“Yeah,” Derek answered, breathlessly. He could feel tears prick the back of his eyes now.
“Answer him, Papa!” Kai’s voice cut through the crowd. Stiles laughed out loud, watery and short.
“You sure you want to marry someone like me?” He asked one last time, kneeling on the ground.
Derek rested his forehead against Stiles, brushing their noses in an eskimo kiss. “No. I don’t want to marry someone like you, Stiles. I want to marry you.” And then he leaned forward, lips brushing the edge of Stiles’ ears and whispered something soft and quick before pulling back.
Stiles laughed and nodded. “Yes!”
He surged forward to capture Derek’s lips in his, a ring now glistening on his ring finger. The last words Derek spoke to him still loud and clear in his mind.
I trust you.