Chapter Text
Stiles isn't sure how it happened. He’s not sure exactly when it happened. Actually he’s not even sure WHY at this point. All he knows now is that somewhere in all the crazy that has taken over his life, sometime between nearly drowning in the Beacon Hills Pool and arrival of the Alpha Pack, Stiles was blindsided with the realization that he cared for Derek Hale. No, not just cared. He had feelings, like kiss me-love me-make babies with me-feelings.
Feelings are not Stiles’ friend. Feelings make him do crazy things. Crazy like chase hopelessly after Lydia Martin for YEARS without so much as an actual glance in his direction that classed him over anything more significant than dirt on her Manolos. Actually lets be honest, dirt on Lydia’s shoes was much more newsworthy than anything Stiles did EVER. Stiles doesn't like feelings.
So Stiles, well he decides to do what he does best. He pines. He throws his life at Derek’s feet near as often as he can. Jumping headfirst into the mysteries that plague their little town. Staying up all hours of the night translating the bestiary (after extensive Latin lessons with one Lydia Martin of course), researching all kinds of big bads. He spends afternoons with Deaton and he learns how to harness his spark. He throws himself wholeheartedly into becoming an asset to his pack, an asset to his alpha. And every day those feeling, they get bigger and stronger and they begin to consume him.
Derek begins to change as well. He smiles more and is a better alpha. He’s gentler with the pack, with Stiles. He convinces Stiles to come clean to the Sheriff and somehow he sneaks his way into the force and into John’s good graces. Derek is happier and Stiles falls in love more and more everyday. Derek does as well.
But he isn’t falling in love with Stiles.
It takes Derek a long time to introduce Jennifer to the pack. Nearly a year after the they took down Deucalion and made peace with Kali and the twins. The pack is starting their Senior Year when Derek brings her to the first meeting of the school year.
Stiles is in kitchen with Allison, laughing as they put the finishing touches on dinner when everyone in the living room suddenly falls silent. Not having the advantages of werewolf noses to get an idea of what exactly is going on, Allison and Stiles venture tentatively into the room. What they find there is easily worst case scenario. For Stiles anyway.
The pack is staring hesitantly at the door, confused and unsure of exactly what was happening. But Stiles? He knows. He knows before Derek, with his bright smile and arm around Ms. Blake, explains to the pack that he’s been seeing Jennifer for some time now. He knows before Derek tells them he feels like it is getting serious, that it is time to bring her into the pack. Stiles knows and it breaks his heart neatly in half. It's worse than Lydia loving Jackson so much she saved him from himself. It's worse than the feeling of Deucalion’s claws sunk deep in to his chest. It hurts worse than his father’s disappointment, and Scott’s brief abandonment of their friendship sophomore year. It hurts more than seeing Derek carry Erica’s body into the loft and more than putting her in the ground.
But Stiles, if nothing else is a magnificent liar. So he smiles at Derek and Ms. Blake. He calms his heart beat and focuses on covering the scent of his agony from the pack. Never has he been more grateful for all that time spent with Deaton. He serves dinner and laughs and talks and talks and talks. He digs his nails into his palm under the table every time they kiss and smile and touch. He listens to Derek address the pack about looking at Colleges and doing well in their Senior Year. He sits nestled between Isaac and Ethan as the meeting dwindles down into movie night. He’s engaged in the movie, in the banter, in the popcorn fights.
He’s pushing and faking and lying until he can finally leave, smiling at the happy couple as he heads out the door. He’s using everything he knows about manipulating pack magic and wolf senses to disguise the catch in his breathing, the stutter in his heart, the scent of his pain until he’s sure he’s safe. He pushes himself until he’s locked in his room, door and window are shut tight, locked and lined with ash. Then he breaks. He slides down against the wall, his heart beating so hard he’s almost positive its going to beat out of his chest and fall bleeding and battered on his floor. He can’t breathe and the world starts to narrow down, black covering his peripheral vision. He’s gasping and shaking and when he leans his face into his hands he realizes that he’s crying. He shakes and he cries and he winds his fingers in his hair and he pulls.
He’s falling apart and he doesn’t see Lydia break the line of ash on the floor so she can enter, Aiden as always not far behind. He can’t focus on anything other than his own agony until he feels her push Scott’s old inhaler in his mouth, until she forces him to breathe. He finally calms down enough to realize he’s not alone, but it doesn’t matter to him that she’s seeing him like this. At the moment nothing really matters. He looks up at her and tears are still gathering in his eyes.
"Lydia?"
"I’m here, I’m here Stiles."
Aiden whines low in his throat as Stiles starts to sob again.
"It hurts. It hurts so much Lyds." He says
She pulls him in closer, holds him tight, her own voice thick with tears.
"I know sweetie, I know."
Because of course she knows. She’s his brilliant goddess and of course she knows why Stiles is falling apart in her arms. She shushes him and rocks him and lets him cry and he loves her so much in that moment.
She doesn’t tell him it will be ok. They both know it’s not true.