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vernonfielding · 5 years

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Life Writes Its Own Stories

Chapter 7 (AO3!)

AN: The next update won't be for another week. I'm going to be off in the wilderness for a few days with no access to internet. Assuming I don't fall off a cliff, Chapter 8 should be up next Sunday.

Jake found out the story had published when he was woken up far too early on Sunday by an explosion of text messages. There were a dozen from Gina alone, mostly demanding to know why he had gone on the record with Amy when Gina was his lifelong best friend, damnit. There were two texts from Rosa; the first read “what the hell, Jake” and the second “WHAT THE HELL.” The Vulture had also texted but Jake didn’t bother opening that one.

There was nothing from Amy.

Jake let that particular gut-punch sink in. He hadn’t heard from her since he’d lost his damned mind and kissed her, and he thought it was possible he’d never hear from her again.

When his phone dinged again, he picked it up to find another text from Gina (“srsly man wtf”) and wrote back with a shrug emoji and a heart-kiss emoji and three fruit emojis. He ignored the Vulture. He took a deep breath and called Rosa.

“What the hell, man?”

“On a scale from no-one-reads-the-Bulletin-anyway to maybe-the-FBI-is-hiring, how much trouble do you think I’m in?” Jake said.

“A lot.”

Jake pressed his hand to his eyes and groaned.

On the other end of the line he could hear Rosa rustling around, doing god knew whatever she did on her weekends, but she didn’t speak for a long time and the silence was unnerving. Finally, she said, “Did you know?”

“About the story? Or about my name being in it?” Jake said.

“Either. Both.”

“Yes.”

More dead air, and then Rosa said, “You’re a moron, you know that.”

“Yep.”.

Rosa sighed, said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, dummy,” and ended the call.

Jake stared at the dark screen for a while, then he stuffed the phone under his pillow, rolled over, pulled his blanket up over his head and went back to sleep.

+++

The professional fallout wasn’t as bad as he expected. The Vulture was furious, of course. When Jake finally called him Pembroke screamed for a while and told him his pasty white ass would be glued to his desk chair for the foreseeable future but he didn’t actually make any formal threats. The Vulture did demand to know why Amy had contacted Jake of all possible detectives in the NYPD – something that Jake realized he should have anticipated and prepared an answer for – and he panicked and said Gina must have offered him up. That set off a whole new round of yelling about Jake having friends in the media, but he mostly zoned out on that part.

Around noon, Scully called to tell Jake that officially, the brass did not approve of him talking to a reporter without permission. But unofficially, they were pleased that Jake’s quote gave the NYPD some protection from a story that was destroying the corrections department.

“You didn’t hear it from me,” Scully said, “but you got us more positive press with that quote than I have all year.”

Scully giggled then and asked if Jake wanted to join him for chicken wings.

+++

The personal fallout was far worse.

Jake had been swinging widely between shame and confusion in the immediate aftermath of being soundly rejected by Amy. He couldn’t figure out how he’d misread the situation so badly, to have thought that she might be interested.

But he realized after the story came out that the mood swings were really just denial, because as soon as he saw her name in cold, black print on top of her article, a depression washed over him. The sadness came in waves, at times so dense he felt like he couldn’t breathe, and others like a gray mist that muted the world around him. He stayed in bed for most of the day and only left the apartment to pad down to the corner bodega – in pajama pants and a T-shirt and slippers – so he could buy an actual copy of the Bulletin and further torture himself.

He couldn’t decide if it made things better or so much worse that he hadn’t even noticed that he was falling for Amy. The past few weeks, as he’d felt them becoming close, he’d been intrigued and bemused by the friendship developing between them. He’d certainly noticed that Amy was beautiful, and that she was smart and funny and kind. But it was only standing with her in front of her apartment, her eyes reflecting the light of the streetlamp, the stress and the excitement about her story practically making her glow from within, that he’d realized he wanted to kiss her.

Or maybe his feelings had started to boil over a little before that, when he was walking her home in the dark and the idea had come to him, out of nowhere, that he wanted to hold her hand. Or maybe it had started at the diner, when Amy had said she liked typing his name and Jake hadn’t actually thought she was a big nerd – he’d thought about her fingers tapping out the letters of his name, and he’d felt chills on the back of his neck.

Or maybe it had been a dozen times before that one night, moments like droplets collecting over the past several weeks until he was drowning in them.

Jake wondered if he should call Amy – ask her to reconsider, or even to explain to him how this could have happened. She was smart. She would probably have some ideas. But then he remembered the guilt and the horror on her face at having committed an ethical crime, and he knew he couldn’t call. Her moral code was something he’d admired in her from the first time he’d read a story of hers, when he’d given her the tip about the cop who killed his ex-girlfriend. He wasn’t going to be the one to compromise that, not any more than he already had. And even if he did call, nothing could happen between them, not anymore. He would never ask her to put her professional ethics aside for him. Not for some cop.

He still hoped she might call or text. Just to let him know.

+++

It was getting close to midnight and he was already back in bed with the lights out when he couldn’t take it anymore and wrote a text. It said: “Congrats.” He added an explosion emoji, deleted the emoji, then hit send.

He was sliding the phone under his pillow when it vibrated in his hand.

The text from Eldora Senegal said: “Can we meet?”

+++

Jake sat on a swing in the playground, wishing he hadn’t forgotten his jacket before ducking out to meet her. He was sure the only reason he’d gotten there first was because he lived nearby, but he still couldn’t help the nerves in his stomach – the worry that she was going to text him any minute to say she’d changed her mind. Or maybe she just wouldn’t show up.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting from her. He just knew he wanted to see her.

He kicked his feet in the sand, pushing himself back a few inches, and buried his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. The swing seat was damp and the chill of it was soaking into his jeans, making him shiver. He startled when he caught movement in his peripheral vision, and planted his feet to stop the swing. Amy stood at the edge of sand, almost entirely in shadow, but he knew her profile, recognized the curve of her cheek. She walked over silently and sat in the swing beside his.

They drifted a little in their swings, not talking. Then Amy said, not much louder than a whisper, “Did you get in any trouble?”

“Not really,” Jake said, eyes on the ground. “The Vulture yelled a bunch, but that’s kind of his thing. Honestly? I think you made a lot of people in the NYPD pretty happy today.”

“But not you.”

“No,” Jake said, carefully. “Proud. Impressed. But no, not happy.”

Amy dug the toes of her shoes into the sand, rocking on her swing. He felt bad telling her the truth, but he would have felt worse if he’d lied.

“Today was amazing,” Amy said, after a few minutes of silence. Jake glanced at her, but she was staring at her feet, and her voice hadn’t actually reflected her words. “All of these politicians were on Twitter condemning the corrections department. The mayor himself said he’s going to open an investigation. The New York Times actually had a story online today quoting my article. And tomorrow I’m going on NPR to talk about it. The Brian Lehrer Show, Jake!”

She took a deep breath, and when she glanced up, Jake could see that her eyes were too bright. “A bunch of my coworkers took me out tonight to celebrate, and even Holt came out with us, and I was so proud of myself. But all I could think about was how much it sucked that I couldn’t talk to you.”

Jake felt dizzy with uncertainty and relief and longing, and a dozen other emotions he couldn’t pin down. He opened his mouth but had no idea what to say.

Amy said, “So from there I sort of spiraled and just kept thinking, what if I never talk to you again, or never see you again? And I know that’s dumb because I’d probably see you around even if I was trying to avoid you, but what if you didn’t ever want to see me, because of- what happened. I would hate that. I don’t want that.”

“Amy, if you want to be friends-”

“No,” Amy said. “I don’t want that.”

“Then-” Jake stopped, swallowing his words, suddenly afraid of the hope swelling in his chest.

But Amy was getting up from her swing, and she stood in front of him, so his knees bumped against her legs. She grabbed the chains of his swing in her fists and held him steady. He looked up at her face, his heart hammering, his palms sweaty.

“I like you, Jake,” Amy said. “And I don’t want you to be my source, and I don’t want us to be professional or- transactional. I just want you.”

She pulled his swing toward her and dipped her head down to his and kissed him. There was no doubt in her kiss, no hesitation, and he kissed her back fiercely, planting his hands on her hips to hold her closer. She moved her hands to cup his face and her fingers were freezing from holding the cold chains, and the feeling against his flushed cheeks was electric. He groaned into her mouth and she kissed him harder, tongue diving between his lips. She kissed like she couldn’t get enough, like she needed something from him, something only he had.

But eventually they did slow down, kisses evolving into nips and tastes. By then they were both shivering from the cold. Jake kissed her closed mouth and pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, and she smiled coyly at him. She stood over him, her cheeks pink and her lips swollen, her hair falling out of its ponytail in wisps all around her face, and she was breathtaking.

He kissed her again, felt her lips curl into another smile against his, then stood up and wrapped his arms around her, tucking her in close.

“What do we do now?” he said, pressing his face into her hair.

“Your place?” Amy said. “It’s closer.”

Jake laughed and squeezed her tight, then stepped back and took her hand, and led her across the sand and out of the park. It had to be getting close to 1 a.m., and they both had work in the morning, and apparently Amy had an important radio thing, but he couldn’t imagine sleeping any time soon – not when she was here with him, when she’d come back to him, and there was so much to talk about and he just wanted to make out with her all night.

He was the one spiraling now, in the best way. The relief and euphoria were almost overwhelming. He let go of her hand and looped his arm around her shoulders instead, drawing her into his side, and she slipped an arm around his waist.

“Are you sure about this?” he said, after they’d walked a bit in silence. He wasn’t sure what he meant by ‘this’ – the kissing and holding, or that they were going back to his apartment possibly to have sex, or that they were maybe dating, if not now sometime very soon.

“Yes,” Amy said, the certainty in her voice reassuring. “I actually did some research.”

“Research on what?” Jake said, smiling at her profile.

“Journalism ethics,” Amy said. “There are a ton of thought pieces on dating sources – which is never appropriate, by the way. But the consensus seems to be that sometimes you can’t help who you fall for, and there are best practices for transitioning from a professional reporter-source relationship to a personal one.”

“Best practices, huh? Sounds romantic,” Jake said. He paused at an intersection and nuzzled her ear.

Amy laughed and pulled her head away. “First, I meant what I said – you can’t be my source anymore.”

“That’s okay, I’ll just find someone else to tell all my secrets to,” Jake said, pulling her along as they started walking again.

Amy slapped his arm. “You will not!” He shot her a look, surprised by the intensity of her response, and she just shrugged. “I know, ‘democracy dies in darkness,’ the Fourth Estate, freedom of speech, whatever – if I don’t get your secrets, no one does.”

“Okay, honestly, your possessive side is pretty hot,” Jake said.

She shot him a smile with a bit of an edge to it, and Jake felt a chill run up his spine. Then she said, “But seriously, no more tips, no more leads, no more quoting you.”

“All right,” Jake said, but he slowed down as they approached his building, and he thought over what her words meant. “Except, this is sounding a lot like my Gina arrangement, and I don’t think I can do that with you. Are you saying I can’t talk about my job at all?”

“No, of course not.” Amy stopped them and turned to face him, wrapping both arms loosely around his shoulders. “You can tell me anything, it’s just all off the record. If you say something that I think is newsworthy then I might ask you if I can pass it on to another reporter, but I won’t ever write about it myself.”

Jake considered that and nodded. “And you think that’ll work?”

“Sure,” Amy said with a grin. “It’s not like most of what you say is very interesting anyway.”

“Hurtful.”

“Interesting as in newsworthy,” Amy said, chuckling. “Like, when you talk about the Vulture – that’s great gossip. And you know I want to hear all about whatever’s going on in the cold war between Rosa and the IT guy.”

“Heidi,” Jake said.

“Right, Heidi from IT who is a man who is either in love with Rosa or wants to murder her with the internet,” Amy said. “See? That’s great stuff. But not anything I’d ever write about. So you keep that coming.”

Jake nodded along, and he thought they could do this – they could be together and maybe both of their careers could survive and neither of them would have to do anything horribly unethical that would be a betrayal to their very soul.

“You’re really sure,” Jake said anyway.

“I am,” Amy said. “Now please, can we go upstairs and get in your bed? It’s stupid cold out here.”

He kissed her, hard and fast on the lips, and grabbed her hand and tugged her inside.

And they had sex, and it was incredible.

CHAPTER 8

#b99 fic #peraltiago #jake and amy au #newspaper au #life writes its own stories

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ongsniel · 7 years

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[request] oh nana (melt me with your eyes)

AUTHOR: ongniels (ali) TITLE: FANDOM: WANNA ONE/Produce 101 RATING: PG-13 PAIRING: Lee Daehwi/Kang Dongho WORD COUNT: 2,2k WARNING: none SUMMARY: In all of his four years as kindergarten teacher, Daehwi has never seen a kid as cute as Guanlin, nor a father as handsome as Guanlin’s.

In all of his four years as kindergarten teacher, Daehwi has never seen a kid as cute as Guanlin, nor a father as handsome as Guanlin’s.

***

The first time he had ever met Guanlin was three months ago, the boy, who was obviously much taller than the rest of the class, was walking with his back hunched, looking at the floor shyly but as soon as he had spotted Daehwi, the cutest gummy smile had appeared on the 4-year-old’s face.

“You must be, Mr. Lee,” he had greeted, taking his hand and shaking it. Daehwi had never met a kid as polite as him until now either. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”

“The same goes for me,” Daehwi replies and crouches down to pat Guanlin’s head.

At the end of the day, it was pretty clear to him that Guanlin was his favourite child ever. While the others went around throwing blocks at him, not listening or throwing tantrums because their parents weren’t there, Guanlin would help Daehwi out, acting as the second teacher and doing cute things to cheer him up.

***

Now, three months later, Guanlin is still his favourite child.

Currently, he is saying goodbye to Andrew, the only one who was left to go home except for Guanlin.

Daehwi is used to being alone with Guanlin, his nanny or grandmother almost always arriving at the last minute. If Daehwi really thinks about it, he has never seen either of Guanlin’s parents but he has seen Guanlin paint his father countless of times and heard him swoon of how perfect his dad is for hours in the end.

“Mr. Lee, do you know when my father is picking me up?” Guanlin asks while he plays with some blocks.

“I don’t know, sweetie,” Daehwi replies, sitting down in front of him. “But we can play until then!”

***

It’s almost two hours after five o’clock, the time the kindergarten closes down. Daehwi is waiting for someone to pick Guanlin up in front of the school, sitting on a bench, since his boss had told them that he couldn’t have them wait inside any longer – if it hadn’t been his boss, Daehwi would have probably gone ape shit on him because what the hell?

Guanlin has his head resting on his lap and is soundly asleep when Daehwi finally sees a car drive into the parking lot.

When he first sees a man step out of the car, his heartbeat begins to quicken – because a) the guy is super handsome and b) he looks very fucking scary. He is in a suit and has his pitch black hair gelled back. His body is muscular, his face is fucking incredible and he is also very stylish.

“I’m so, so sorry,” the man says, jogging up to them. His voice is even deeper and huskier than Daehwi had expected it to be. “I thought my mother would pick him up but she thought the nanny would and the nanny thought I would. I’m really, really sorry.”

“It’s a-alright,” he stutters, hands caressing Guanlin’s side softly. “It’s nice to finally see you in person. I’ve heard a lot of you through Guanlin. He swoons about you every day.”

The man laughs. It almost seems as if he’s blushing too. It’s almost as endearing as Guanlin’s gummy smile.

“I’m Kang Dongho, by the way,” he introduces himself, trying to shake Daehwi’s hand without waking Guanlin up. “I seriously owe you one; if you ever need anything, call me or something. I’ll definitely be there.”

“But… I don’t have your number?” Daehwi laughs awkwardly, feeling a blush spread across his face. “Plus, it’s fine. It’s my job after all.”

“Oh, right, you don’t have my number!” Dongho nods. “I’ll give it to you through Guanlin tomorrow. Not every kindergarten teacher would do this, I’m sure.”

“Sure, Guanlin is very reliable,” Daehwi smiles down at the sleeping boy on his lap. “You should know that you have an awesome child. He’s very polite and intelligent. Guanlin is going to make it big when he grows up.”

Dongho seems to melt as he lays his eyes upon Guanlin, a small smile forming on his lips.

“Dad, it’s embarrassing, stop looking at me,” the boy says out of nowhere, gingerly standing up and immediately clinging onto Dongho’s leg. “Why are you so late?”

“Grandma, Soojung and I didn’t co-ordinate today well, so we kind of had some trouble on remembering who would pick you up,” Dongho admits sheepishly, picking Guanlin up from the ground. “But don’t worry! I’ll make it up to you by taking you out for burgers this Sunday.”

“Mr. Lee should come, too,” Guanlin suggests out of nowhere, his hands wrapped around Dongho’s neck as he looks at Daehwi with pleading eyes.

Daehwi sputters for a moment – because yes, fuck, he would love to spend some quality time with Guanlin and his very handsome father but it seems kind of uncalled for so he really doesn’t know what to respond to that.

Turns out, he doesn’t need to.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” Dongho acknowledges. “We would love for you to join us, Mr. Lee.”

“Oh, you can call me Daehwi!” he exclaims, a bit too loudly. “And yes, I would really like that. I’ll text you to know the time and place.”

“Perfect,” Dongho replies.

The three of them smile at each other one more time before Guanlin and Dongho head to their car.

***

“Is Mr. Lee really so handsome that you had to blush?” Guanlin asks with an evil smirk.

Dongho is, not surprisingly, taking aback.

“I knew you two would love each other,” his son sing-songs as Dongho buckles him up safely. “You should have met each other sooner. Dad, you are going to ask him on a date right?”

“How do you even know what a date is?” Dongho inquires with his eyebrows raised.

“Please dad, I’m all grown up,” Guanlin replies and Dongho can’t help but snort. “Plus, Jihoon, my boyfriend, asked me on a date today. He told me what that is.”

“Wait, isn’t Jihoon way too old for you? I mean, he is five,” he responds playfully.

“I prefer older boys, they are more mature you know,” Guanlin tells him.

Dongho has to stop himself from laughing.

“Anyway, you should spend time with Mr. Lee and give him a kiss, too, he’s really nice,” his son continues, half-distracted by his dinosaur toy.

Dongho is pretty sure he is going to go insane if Guanlin doesn’t stop talking about Mr. Lee. Although he has to admit, that “Mr. Lee” is pretty freaking cute.

“Wait, did Jihoon also show you what a kiss is?” Dongho exclaims, looking back at his son.

Guanlin just blushes. Dongho laughs.

***

Daehwi does really receive Dongho’s number through Guanlin the next day. Guanlin smiles happily at him, swooning about how much of a good time they’re going to have together before running off to play with the other kids.

***

[To: Kang Dongho, 18:49]

Hey, it’s Daehwi, I wanted to ask where we are meeting up this Sunday?

[To: Kang Dongho, 18:50]

I mean, only if you still want to, I don’t want to interrupt some quality father-and –son time.

***

[From: Kang Dongho, 21:37]

Don’t worry, you’re not interrupting anything, Guanlin is really looking forward to it.

[From: Kang Dongho, 21:41]

And I am, too.

Daehwi only squeals a little bit when he reads the second message. He can’t wait to tell Jinyoung all about this.

***

After what seems an eternity, it’s finally Sunday.

Daehwi spends almost an hour only thinking about what to wear – he decides for some simple skinny jeans and a white button down – and another on choosing how to style his hair. Jinyoung gives him advice on how to act on the date – well, it’s not a date, technically but still.

As soon as he is done, he grabs his car and home keys, his phone and wallet and leaves his house, feeling giddy and happy.

***

When he arrives at the restaurant Guanlin is running towards him in less than five seconds. He giggles and picks him up without protesting. The 4-year-old immediately wraps his hands around his neck and hugs him tightly, telling Daehwi how excited he is for tonight. Daehwi nods acknowledging him with a smile.

“Hey, I’m very glad you’re here,” Guanlin’s dad greets him.

Today, without his suit and gelled back hair, his features look much softer than before. He looks absolutely adorable. Daehwi’s heart can’t help but start beating faster.

Guanlin squirms his way out of Daehwi’s embrace ere he skips back to his seat. Daehwi follows him while greeting Dongho back with a bright smile.

“Thank you for inviting me, I really didn’t want to intrude on your father-son time,” Daehwi says as he sits down.

“But this is a date,” Guanlin points out confidently.

Both Dongho and Daehwi blush at Guanlin’s statement. Even if he is embarrassed, he is thankful because Dongho blushing is literally one of the cutest things he has seen.

“What’s intruding anyway?” Guanlin asks, looking at them both questioningly with his big, big eyes.

Dongho and Daehwi explain it to Guanlin the best they can but it seems that neither of them can’t do it well enough because the kid just rolls his eyes at them and tells them to stop since he won’t understand it anyway. Daehwi giggles.

“So, Daehwi, what are your hobbies?” Dongho questions then, trying to change the topic.

***

All in all, Daehwi has a really good time.

Guanlin, as expected, is a sweetie. He takes turns swooning about his dad and then Daehwi, making both of the adults blush. Dongho, also as expected, is very nice. The man leads the conversation well and doesn’t let any awkward moments happen.

Furthermore, when you put Guanlin and Dongho together they are the most adorable combo.

He also gets to know about Dongho. He is a business man who works from Monday to Friday, which is the reason he doesn’t pick up Guanlin – although, Guanlin makes him promise to do it more often, wiggling his eyebrows as he does so, Daehwi sometimes doesn’t believe that he is just four. Dongho also tells him about his hobbies – singing in the shower, fencing and taking Guanlin on surprise trips.

Daehwi is definitely crushing on him. Hard.

***

He brings Dongho and Guanlin back to the car. Guanlin is already fast asleep in Dongho’s arms so he helps the father put him in his kiddies seat securely. For one scary second, Guanlin frowns in his sleep and both, him and Dongho, think that he is going to wake up but fortunately the lines on his forehead smooth out and he goes back to sleep.

“That was close,” Daehwi sighs in relief as he accompanies Dongho to the front door. “I really had a good time today, thank you for inviting me.”

“Oh, no problem, it was a pleasure,” Dongho replies with a small smile. “I’ve never seen Guanlin as excited or happy as today. I’m the one who has to thank you.”

“Not at all, Guanlin is really endearing, he is a precious kid,” Daehwi nods.

He can feel Dongho staring at him but he isn’t too sure what he is supposed to do now. Daehwi can feel every pore of his body and he has goosebumps all over, he doesn’t know why since he is only standing in front of Dongho but he feels… giddy and happy and he is kind of hoping for the other to make a move – to tell him that he also feels as attracted to Daehwi as Daehwi to him.

“We should… We should do this again,” Dongho suddenly blurts out, stepping closer to Daehwi.

“Yeah, definitely,” he breathes out, then looks up, only to find Dongho mere inches away. “I’m sure Guanlin would be happy about that.”

“I… I actually meant… just us both,” Dongho clarifies with a blush. “Pretty sure that Guanlin will love that just as much as us three hanging out together. He’s been bugging me to ask you out since the first day we met, actually.”

Daehwi giggles. Of course, Guanlin has been. He loves the kid.

“My answer is still the same, I’d love to,” this time he is the one to step closer.

Dongho doesn’t even hesitate before he pecks Daehwi softly on the lips. For Daehwi, the kiss is too short, so he leans in himself to connect their mouths together. Dongho seems taken aback at first but then responds to the kiss enthusiastically.

“Finally,” they hear Guanlin suddenly squeal from the car.

The both of them separate, having matching blushes on their face, as they look at a happy Guanlin.

Daehwi lets his head fall against Dongho’s shoulder in defeat. They laugh together, the adults speechless.

Suddenly, he feels Dongho’s hand on his back. It makes a shiver run down his spine and his heart tighten with affection towards the man.

“Maybe… you want to go back home with us?” Dongho says.

It doesn’t even take Guanlin a second to be begging him to join them. Daehwi can’t say no at the both of them, so he nods in defeat and tells them that he is going to be right behind them.

***

When Guanlin springs on his father bed the next morning and discovers his dad cuddling with his second favourite person on the world, he is absolutely buzzing. Even more so, when Mr. Lee promises him that today is not going to be the last time he spends the night with them.

#dodae #kang dongho/lee daehwi #daehwi #lee daehwi #kang dongho #this week there won't be any ongniel because i couldn't finish of the request this time #but there is going to be an overload next week so i hope you enjoy them #also if anyone wants to you can send me more ongniel/panwink/howons requests since i almost hae none anymore #request #prompt #wanna one #produce 101 #produce 101 season 2 #writing #all of my fics are on ao3 too

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bilienski · 7 years

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Kiss it Better

Read on AO3 Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Wordcount: 7716 Summary:

Stiles doesn't know how to deal with the aftermath of the Nogitsune. Derek tries to help. By letting Stiles punch his cushion.

Everyone had been relieved when it was over. When they won, when they beat the Nogitsune. That’s when everyone had finally been able to sleep soundly again. Everyone but Stiles. Because every night he was still haunted by the nightmares. And he wished that the nightmares were the toughest part. But it’s the moments right after he woke up screaming, those moments were actually the worst.

The moments when he sat up in his bed, covers long since thrown on the floor by his frantic movements during the dream, he was panting, covered in cold sweat, not yet sure if he’d actually woken up. Stiles didn’t even know if he would ever be sure about being awake again. Because in those moments, the feeling of the screaming still lingering in his throat, he felt more helpless and vulnerable and… useless than he’d ever felt.

He’d hoped the nightmares would go away, but they hadn’t yet and Stiles was getting sick of this. He was scared to fall asleep. Instead he’d keep himself up all night with research. Research about more scary things, which – if he thought about it – was probably not going to help the nightmare situation, or the issue of feeling vulnerable and helpless. Because with each monster he discovered, he basically discovered another way to die a slow, painful death. Or worse, for his friends to die a slow, painful death. Even though most of them would be able to handle themselves in a fight, Stiles knew now that werewolves were not even close to the scariest things out there, and – no offense to the werewolf population of this town – they were definitely not the strongest ones.

He’d moved himself to his bed to continue reading up on Wendigos. He was too exhausted at this point so falling asleep was inevitable. The nightmare was inevitable. But at least if he moved to lie in his bed before he fell asleep, he’d spare himself the pain of a sore neck and back.

Of course, before long Stiles’ head sunk deeper into the pillow and the book he’d been holding fell on the floor, his rug silencing the thud . The research he’d been doing was not just to keep himself busy, that’s just what he liked to tell himself. Each night he sought out scarier monsters to learn about. It was plenty of nightmare material. And even dreaming about being chased by these things wouldn’t be as awful as dreaming about this.

Because dreaming about the Nogitsune was too real. He’d lived through that shit, “through” being the keyword here. It wasn’t fair that he had to live through it again and again each and every night. It wasn’t fair that he had to feel himself being controlled over and over again, forced to hurt his friends, his family.

Tonight the victim was Derek. Again. Every single one of these dreams was a repeat of what had happened before, of what he’d allowed to happen before. And you’d think that knowing what was coming would somehow make it easier to deal with it, but it didn’t. He just had to watch helplessly as his fingers chained up the alpha, as his hands took up the lighter and waved it in front of Derek’s face just to see him flinch. He just had to listen helplessly to the taunts and threats that left his mouth. He could even still smell Derek’s flesh burning, the scent so thick he could almost taste it.

The screams. Derek’s screams woke him up, but only after Stiles had painted his skin with red, blistered stripes. Derek had been so quiet through the whole thing. But then Stile – no the Nogitsune – had started describing in agonizing detail how the Hale family must have felt the same, if not a thousand times worse.

Stiles had done that.

He was panting, a sheen of cold sweat covering his forehead and his neck, his hands shaking as they held the pillow to his chest. He was just tired of it, he’d had enough, he was completely done feeling helpless. Weakly , he pushed the pillow off of him and searched for his phone. Stiles had been entertaining the idea of doing this from the moment that firefly got trapped in that mountain ash jar. But his other problem had been holding him back, his silly little teenage problem, the normal problem that wasn’t related to nightmares or monsters or anything supernatural. His stupid silly crush on the stupid Sourwolf he was calling right now.

At… 4 am, fuck. He was just about to hang up when Derek answered the phone with a very sleepy voice that made Stiles wince guiltily.

“Stiles? What…? Are you okay?” The last question was rushed out hastily, concerned . Well… here goes nothing.

“I’m fine. I need you to train me. I need you to teach me how to fight.”

“What? Now?” Well, now was as good a time as any. He wasn’t going to get more awake and it’s not like he wanted to sleep more anyway.

“Yes.”

“Stiles, are you okay?” There was a different tone to Derek’s voice this time around. Lower, more serious.

So Stiles answered seriously this time. “No… I… I’m not. I’ll be there in 10.” He was sure Derek wasn’t willing to listen to Stiles complaining about his nightmares. And definitely not over the phone.

Stiles found Derek in the loft’s kitchen, just a pair of sweatpants hanging lowly on his hips as he sipped some freshly brewed coffee. Seeing Derek like that, looking unfairly gorgeous for having just been woken up, Stiles looked down self-consciously at his “workout gear”. A scrappy t-shirt with holes in it and a pair of sweatpants that just looked too large on him and not flattering at all.

“You look awful.” Great, just what he needed to be pointed out, thanks Derek. “Have you slept at all since…?”

“No, not really.” Stiles let out a huff. Derek probably thought he was a weak excuse of a human being already, and he hadn’t even seen Stiles attempt to fight yet.

“Me neither.” Sourwolf said what? The look Derek gave him touched Stiles’ very soul. Concerned, guilty… it felt so wrong to have Derek look at him like that. “I let my guard down again, I thought we’d get a bit of a break after the alpha pack, after Jen- the Darach. We all let our guard down and you paid the pri-“

“Don’t say that. You don’t get to pity me, okay? Not after… no. And what are we even talking about? I didn’t come here to talk about my poor feelings being hurt. I just want you to teach me how to fight so next time something comes for my friends I’m not the helpless fragile thing with a freaking bat.”

Derek frowned, looking like he was about to say something but he never did. He just took another sip of coffee. He poured some into another mug and passed it to Stiles, all in this ridiculously heavy silence. But Stiles couldn’t bring himself to break it. The things he’d said since he’d arrived here hadn’t exactly come out well.

So they drank their coffee and stared at their mugs. Till Derek stood up and went to the living room. And since he’d taken Stiles’ mug to put it in the sink on his way there, Stiles didn’t have a choice but to follow. Derek took a couch cushion, not a throw pillow but one of the cushions that made up the actual seating of the couch.

“Are you going to make me redecorate your living room?”

“Punch it.” Derek said it as if it was obvious that’s what one was supposed to do with a couch cushion. He held it in front of his chest and looked at Stiles expectantly. “You’re going to have to come closer, Stiles.” So Stiles did. “Put your feet apart, shoulders width. Bend your knees slightly. Other than that, don’t worry about your legs too much. They’ll follow along.” Stiles followed Derek’s limited directions, keeping his eyes on the alpha to see if he was doing it right or not.

“Keep your arms up, yes , like a boxer. Now get to punching. Right, right, left , then left, left, right. Put your whole body into it.” Stiles only hesitated 2 seconds. One to think about what the fuck he was thinking when he asked alpha werewolf Derek Hale — aka mister Grumpy Sourwolf, aka still very much shirtless stupid crush — to teach him how to fight at 4 am. The second to take a breath and do one little bounce on the balls of his feet before he actually started punching.

“That’s it? Harder, Stiles.” Of fucking course. He huffed before he did as he was told. “Come on, harder, faster. I know you’ve got more in you.”

Yeah… Derek knows exactly how much more there was in him. Derek experienced first-hand just what the hell was inside him. The thought of that was enough incentive to push himself harder. Each blow to the cushion a dull thud, each blow louder than the previous one.

Derek made him keep that up till he was about 90% sure he would pass out. At which point he was led to the armchair by gentle hands, which came back only a minute later with a bottle of water.

“Drink up, Stiles.” But Stiles made some vague gesture with his hands to wait because he was still too busy trying to catch his breath. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Stiles snapped and stood up. He didn’t come here for Derek to worry about him, he came here so no one ever needed to worry about him again.

Stiles let out a sigh. “Thanks. I should… I should go home. Can we do this again tomorrow? Or later today I guess…”

“Be here at 10 pm.” Derek commanded as he was already walking upstairs, probably going to try to catch some more sleep. So Stiles let himself out.

*****

It became a thing quickly. Every day Stiles would show up at Derek’s loft, with only Sundays being an exception because that was father-son bonding time. For 3 weeks Derek made Stiles beat up that cushion. But Stiles being Stiles, he didn’t think that was interesting enough. So on the Saturday of week three, as he sat in the armchair guzzling down his water, he brought it up.

“You know the chance that I’m ever going to have to defend myself against a couch cushion is practically non-existent, even in this town. I think I’d like a moving, living target to practice with.”

“You want to spar with me?” Derek’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. He probably didn’t even think Stiles would want to keep this training thing up, let alone move it to the next level.

“Yep.”

“Now?” Stiles rolled his eyes.

“No not now, Sourwolf. I’m going to die if I do any more moving.” And always being the surviving type, Stiles let himself fall back into the chair, sinking into a comfortable position.

“Do you… want to watch something?” He’d never stayed for long after he was done hitting cushions. But it suddenly seemed tempting to do just that. He really didn’t want to move anymore. So he only gave a curt nod in response. Derek went through a couple of channels before Stiles perked up at some crime show.

He really thought that he knew how to stay awake by now, but apparently not. Maybe getting really comfortable, taking off his shoes and curling up on the armchair, hadn’t been such a great idea after all. Stiles fell asleep halfway through the episode and woke up the next morning because the sun was shining right into his fac-

He woke up the next morning. He’d slept through the night. No nightmares, no dreams, no nothing. Now that thought really shook Stiles awake. That’s when he noticed he’d been carefully covered with a blanket and his head was resting comfortably on a pillow . He sat there for a couple of minutes trying to not read too much into Derek making sure he was comfortable, but failing miserably.

And Derek walking in the room with two steaming cups of coffee didn’t really help Stiles to not read too much into… whatever was going on. Derek just let out some rumbling sound that may or may not have been “Good morning”, when he gave Stiles a hot mug and turned the TV on again.

Morning cartoons. Stiles was watching morning cartoons with Derek. After he’d slept through the night. Without having any nightmares. Yeah no, that couldn’t be reality, this couldn’t actually be happening. This… whatever it was, was probably going to get real bad, real fast.

“Am I awake?” He’d never be sure of that again… he’d live his whole life wondering if the Nogitsune had really been defeated or if the thing was still playing mind tricks on him. And Derek looked at Stiles as if he knew. A frown on his face, his eyes sad… pitying. Stiles would have punched him for that look if he didn’t know his hand would come out worse than Derek’s face or well… if he hadn’t been so scared right now.

“Yeah, you are. Do you want to try to read something?” Derek was already up and getting a book from the shelf in the corner. In the meantime, Stiles counted his fingers with dread. He let out a shaky breath as he got to ten, but he thought he’d better be thorough so he grabbed the book Derek offered him as well, and started reading.

“You’re okay, Stiles. You’re awake.” Derek said, putting a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. He took a couple of deep breaths and tried his hardest to not let the fear get the best of him.

“Okay, I’m just… I’m going to go to the bathroom real quick.”

He needed some time to just breathe . He paced around the upstairs bathroom, trying to ignore his mind telling him that Derek would hear it. Or maybe his freaky werewolf senses could even smell his anxiety right now, or hear his frantic heartbeat. No wonder Derek was always so concerned. No wonder he looked Stiles over so worriedly every time he thought Stiles wasn’t looking. Derek noticed everything about him. Which did exactly nothing to calm Stiles down.

He stopped his pacing and went to the sink to splash some water on his face. In the mirror he saw himself, water dripping down his face, but he didn’t look so… sick anymore. For the first time since that thing showed up in his head he didn’t look too pale or too tired.

“Okay, champ, you can do this. You’re going to have to do this. You’re going to go out there and just fucking live through the day. There’s coffee and cartoons. And after the cartoons you go home, do that assignment for English you’ve been procrastinating on and then you laze around for the rest of the day with your dad. Your dad who doesn’t even know where you are because you didn’t let him know you were staying the night anywhere else- oh shit!” He felt around in his pockets, hoping to find his phone, while noticing he really fucking stank. He hadn’t even showered last night, ugh.

“Derek!” He called as he rushed out of the bathroom. “Where’s my phone? My dad is going to be worried sick! Shit!” And… down the stairs he fell. Derek stood there by the couch, Stiles’ phone in his hand, looking shocked at the boy laying at the bottom of his staircase. The boy who let out a pitiful “auwtch ” as he grabbed his butt. That’s when Derek came over and helped him up.

“You okay?” That freaking frown. Okay, Stiles was definitely standing too close to the guy his stupid teenage self had decided to get a crush on.

“Well, your stairs didn’t kill me, but I’m sure my dad will finish the job. Ugh…”

“I called your dad last night. Let him know you fell asleep here. Which… would have been a lot less awkward if he’d known you were coming over every day to train.” Okay, Stiles knew that frown, frown number 5, accusing while also adorably confuzzled. They sat down again, Derek on the couch, Stiles on the armchair.

“Sorry about that. I just… didn’t think it was the best idea to tell him I was learning to fight. That would have worried the shit out of him. And he keeps worrying about me. About the nightmares, about the not sleeping at all, about not hanging out with my friends anymore…. So I thought it would be easier to just tell him I was going to Scott’s.” Stiles admitted sheepishly before he started drinking his coffee.

“Okay, I get that, just… please don’t come back here before your dad, the sheriff, who owns a gun – which he pointed out quite a few times during that call last night – knows I’m not having sex with his underage son. Because I really don’t like being shot.” Stiles nearly choked on his coffee.

“Oh my god. He thought you were… with me…? He thought that we were… doing the dirty… together… every fucking night? Oh. My. God.” Oh no, frown number 11, hurt and confuzzled. Wait, hurt? “I mean, not that I wouldn’t… you know. It’s just that… in what universe? Huh? Am I right?”

Hot, hot, hot, the coffee was way too hot to drink it all down in one go. But Stiles was a (storm)trooper so he pushed it all down before he stood up in a rush. “Okidoki, great coffee. Thanks for letting me punch your cushion last night. That… didn’t sound wrong at all. I really have to go. English assignment and all that jazz. Right. It was fun. I’ll see you tomorrow, same time, right?” He rambled as he rushed off, taking his phone from the coffee table on his way to the door.

*****

The conversation with his dad was… very awkward to say the least. First of all trying to convince his dad that he wasn’t sleeping with Derek. And then trying to explain why he wanted to learn how to fight. Which got way too emotional and since neither Stiles nor his dad were very comfortable talking about their feelings and shit, it was just… well, it was probably the worst conversation he’d ever had with his dad. And he wished he could erase it from his memory.

Less awkward, and actually kind of fun, was the sparring with Derek. Unlike the cushion pushing Stiles mainly kept up just to tire himself out in the hopes of being too tired to even have a nightmare, which never really worked. Apart from that one time in Derek’s loft of course. Which he hadn’t forgotten about yet. All the other times he’d slept – he’d love to just say “all the other nights” but that wouldn’t be true, he still slept as little as humanly possible – he’d woken up screaming. But now the SATs were coming up and he’d just really like a night’s sleep every now and then. So this Friday, before he went to Derek’s place, he had to pump himself up a bit. And he made an overnight bag as well, but he planned to keep it in the car so Derek wouldn’t think he was making assumptions and wanting to take advantage of him or anything.

Luckily for Stiles, Derek and him had been getting a bit more friendly during the last couple of months. Stiles could barely believe Derek hadn’t kicked him out yet during those 2 and a half months. They… talked to each other these days. Actual conversations. About whatever. Small talk. Small talk with Derek Hale, imagine that.

“Hey, man. How did that interview go?” Stiles asked as soon as he closed the door of the loft behind him.

“No idea, they said they’d call me back but I don’t know. We’ll see.”

“No offense, dude, but I hope they say no You’d be better off starting up a business of your own. Be your own boss, determine your own hours. You’re good at this shit, I mean, you got me in shape. Coach has been trying to do that for year s and gotten nowhere; you did it in 2 months.”

“Stiles, just because I may be an okay personal trainer doesn’t mean I can do this on my own. I don’t know anything about business.” Stiles rolled his eyes while they moved the furniture out of the way a little bit.

“I told you I’d help. I owe you for all the time you put into me . You never asked for a dime, which you could have and probably should have.”

“Fine, 12 bucks an hour from now on, Stiles.”

“Nope, we’ve come to an agreement about this at the start of the arrangement. You train me and don’t laugh at me and I let you win every single time and won’t tell anyone about your secret love for the Notebook.” Derek rolled his eyes at that.

“I’m a sucker for romance, sue me.” And then he took his shirt off. It’s not that Stiles wasn’t prepared for that, it happened every single time.

“Yeah, you’re clearly the romantic type. Seriously, man, what’s so uncomfortable about your shirt?” Stiles had been too busy ignoring the lack of shirt during their previous sessions, but he’d been meaning to bring it up for quite some time now. But by doing that, Stiles was toeing a very fine line between thinking about Derek shirtless just enough to stay on topic or thinking about it too much and get distracted.

“Nothing, I just don’t want to have to wash it out. I told you I hate doing laundry. Now come one .” And so the game of swinging fists at each other and ducking started. The sparring had gotten even more fun with Derek getting a little bit more talkative each time. It had started as a way to spur Stiles on, but Stiles was convinced that just talking more, even if it was only little things during their sparring, had helped Derek to open up a bit.

“No one likes doing laundry, that doesn’t mean we all get a free pass at walking around naked all the time.” Stiles threw a light punch, aiming for Derek’s shoulder but Derek had no issue dodging it. Obviously Derek being a werewolf he had to hold back a lot during these training evenings. And hurting each other wasn’t the point of sparring anyway. It was just to help Stiles see where his defense had some flaws and teach him how to get past someone else’s defense. It was all friendly, all fun and games. Not that Stiles never went home with a bruise.

“Maybe I was just being nice, Stiles, I think you’re actually the one who told me that being too honest isn’t very polite in everyday conversation.” Okay, fine, he went home with loads of bruises all the time, because he kind of sucked at this. But this early into the evening, really? Derek had no issue punching Stiles in his shoulder and yep, that was definitely going to bruise.

“Aww, you remembered that! So come on, spit it out. Why do you always do this shirtless? Are you trying to woo me? Impress me? Because let me tell you right now, you’re already impressive with a shirt on. Every guy would be jealous of those shoulders and arms and pecs and…” Derek lifted his eyebrows and smirked, and dang it, that shit was distracting.

“Oh please don’t stop now, Stiles , seems to me you’ve spent a lot of time looking at me.” Stiles tried to punch again, aiming for Derek’s jaw this time because of what he just said, and because he knew Derek would totally be able to dodge that punch. But instead, Derek grabbed his hand and pulled Stiles towards him, grabbing him in a headlock along the way. Which was no fun. No fun whatsoever. Being pressed against Derek’s very naked and very attractive, incredibly solid and strong chest was no fun at all. Seriously, the lack of fun in this situation was so incredibly profound.

“For fuck’s sake.” Stiles muttered, knowing he probably wouldn’t be able to get out of this. He tried anyway, grabbing the arm around his neck with both of his hands and tugging. He didn’t want to give up on the conversation though. “Don’t be like that, Derek! Don’t change the topic. Why the lack of shirt?”

“Are you sure you want the truth, Stiles? Maybe I’m trying to spare your feelings.” Stiles rolled his eyes at that, which Derek probably didn’t even see. “Stiles, the reason I don’t wear a shirt, is so I can feel it, so I can notice the rare occasions when your little fists manage to touch me.” He whispered it way too close to Stiles’ ear, which would have been distracting, but Stiles finally had an idea on how to get out of Derek’s hold. So, no, Stiles wouldn’t let himself get distracted by Derek’s hot breath ghosting over his cheek. He just placed one of his hands higher up Derek’s arm, closer to his shoulder.

“That was just mean, Sourwolf, you could have taken the opportunity to whisper some sweet nothings in my ear.” Even though he knew Derek couldn’t see it, he threw in a pout just for good measure. “But instead you decide you’d rather hurt my feelings.” Stiles said a quick mental goodbye to the wonderful feeling of Derek’s hot, hot, hot chest against his back before he made his genius ninja move. Stiles got his fingers underneath Derek’s armpit and tickled him, while punching Derek in the gut with his elbow. (sidenote: Stiles did think about how much it would hurt to hit such rock hard abs with his elbow, but it turned out fine. Stiles’ elbow is fine.)

Derek immediately let go and let out a totally very manly and tough – Stiles couldn’t believe that Derek’s voice even went that high – shriek. While Stiles doubled over laughing, Derek gave him a look of pure and utter betrayal.

“Did you just tickle me? Did you just actually tickle me? Seriously, Stiles?” He screamed out indignantly.

“Oh my god! That shriek!” Stiles managed to get out in between fits of laughter, but Derek pushed him over to the floor. “I can ’t believe I found your weakness! You can’t handle my nimble fingers, oh my god! If the pack hears about this!”

“Don’t! I swear to god, Stiles, if Erica finds out about this I’m going to rip-“

“Yeah, yeah, rip my throat out with your teeth, you need some new threats, Sourwolf.” Derek grumbled something in response but after that they just went back to sparring.

Till Stiles was so out of breath he couldn’t even sass Derek anymore. Derek dragged all the furniture back to their proper spots and Stiles dragged himself to fall onto something soft, preferably his armchair.

When Derek came back with two bottles of water Stiles realized he still had to ask if he could try and sleep here, which was hopefully not going to be as awkward as he’d imagined it being. He should probably wait till Derek turned on the TV so there was always some background noise to fall back on if this conversation went sideways.

“Oh, Titanic!” Stiles remarked before Derek could change the channel again.

“Do we have to watch that?”

“What’s wrong with Titanic? It’s a romantic movie, I thought you were all about that romance?”

“But Jack dies…” oh my god… tough alpha werewolf my ass, Derek is a freaking teddy bear filled with marshmallow fluff. He didn’t even change channels again even though he obviously didn’t like the movie very much.

“Hey, Derek, can I ask you a favour?” here goes nothing.

“Sure.”

“You know that time I fell asleep here and you had to call my dad and it was kind of awkward for all of us… I guess you do remember that, because as much as I’ve tried I can’t forget it.” Stiles cringed at the memory of the talk with his dad. “Anyway… that was the last time I had a proper night’s sleep… And I… I guess I’m kind of getting used to the nightmares by now.” Well, that was a big fat lie if he ever told one. “But the SATs are coming up and I just… I could use some sleep. And I’m grasping at straws here, man, I don’t even know if that night was just a one-time miracle but-“

“Yeah, of course you can stay, Stiles, no problem.” After all the doom scenarios Stiles had come up with, he hadn’t even thought about it actually turning out okay.

“Seriously? Oh my god, you’re the best, dude, thank you so much!”

“It’s fine. As long as I’m not going to get an angry call from your dad.”

“No, I already asked him if it was okay, he begrudgingly agreed that I could use some sleep if I want to get decent grades.” Derek nodded but after that it was quiet for a while.

“Stiles, I thought you were doing okay. You seemed… better.”

“I am. Just not… great yet. I’ll be fine, don’t worry about it.” Stiles quickly dismissed the topic, or so he thought.

“I know you hate talking about this, but at some point you’re going to have to. You can’t keep bottling it up and just deal with it all alone.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. Everyone knows what kind of shit I did. And it’s not going to help anyone if I start complaining now. It’s just going to make people more worried and I do-“

“It’s going to help you. I get that you’re not in the mood for this right now, so I’ll stop bothering you about it, but… when you are in the mood, I… we don’t have to just fight all the time.” Stiles just stared at him, trying to think of something to say to that. Trying to think of anything at all to say.

“I… I don’t….” I don’t want to talk about this, ever. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “I know I should but… I don’t…. okay.”

“Okay.” They started paying attention to the movie again, the conversation was clearly over. But right before the end, Derek stood up. He was totally going to avoid the scene where Jack dies.

“I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow. You can have some of my clothes to sleep in, I’ll put them in the bathroom for you, and there should be a spare toothbrush somewhere as well. Do you need anything else?” Should he go back to his car and get his overnight bag or should he grab this opportunity to see what a boyfriend shirt felt like to sleep in?

“Nope, nothing else, thanks again, Sourwolf.”

He slept like a princess again. The couch was surprisingly comfortable to sleep on and even if it somehow hadn’t been, if Stiles could sleep through an entire night, he was totally willing to risk waking up with a sore back in the morning. If it hadn’t happened before and if the ability to sleep through the night wasn’t what made Stiles sleep on Derek’s couch in the first place, he would have totally believed he was dreaming. Over the last months he’d slowly started to accept that he’d never be sure of reality again, but he’d have to live anyway. Even if it wasn’t real, he appeared to be somewhat in control, so if he lived the life he wanted, he’d get a good dream out of it, right? Okay, maybe that logic wasn’t so logical, but it was better than nothing.

Just like last time, Derek came walking in looking groggy and carrying 2 mugs filled with coffee. He handed Stiles one and sat down next to him on the couch, looking at him expectantly. So Stiles moved to take a sip, only to notice that the mug wasn’t the plain IKEA mug he’d gotten used to seeing around here. Someone had taken a sharpie to it.

You’re awake and if you’re not really I’m extra strong.

His jaw dropped in surprise and his heart did a thing. A very warm-feeling, giddy thing. Derek had ruined a mug for him. Derek knew what he worried about the most and he was doing everything he could to make Stiles feel less worried about it. Teddy bear filled with marshmallow fluff… there was no other explanation.

Stiles couldn’t do much more than utter a heartfelt “Thank you.” To which he got an unintelligible grumble in response, accompanied by a curt nod and an almost-there smile. Okay, so Derek wasn’t a talker in the mornings. That was fine. They could just sit there, watch morning cartoons and be freaking domestic in silence, that was all fine for Stiles.

They lazed around on the couch all morning. At some point Stiles got up to make them both some breakfast but that was it.

“So, was it just for one night or are you staying till you’ve had that SAT thing?”

“I don’t know… I… can I stay the weekend? I don’t want to be in your way or anything, I just… you have no idea how good it feels to just be able to sleep.”

“You can stay as long as you want to. Definitely if you make me breakfast every morning. These eggs are good.”

*****

So Stiles did, he stayed the weekend at Derek’s and aced his tests. If he was being honest it wasn’t even just because he’d managed to sleep properly that he liked that weekend. Spending time with Derek was fun, comfortable, nice and surprisingly easy. Derek took care of him. Which was ridiculous because this all started with Stiles not wanting to be taken care of by anyone. But Derek did it with the little things. He did it subtly. In a way Stiles wouldn’t be able to tell him to stop.

When Stiles was studying, Derek brought him coffee every couple of hours, always bringing some for himself as well. He sat with Stiles and read a book, being quiet enough not to annoy Stiles, but sipping his coffee, turning the pages every now and again, just so Stiles could hear – without having to look up, because the sight would surely distract him – he was still there.

He made sure Stiles didn’t forget to take his meds, Derek put them right there on the kitchen counter every morning, where he knew Stiles would find them when he went to make breakfast. And when he saw Stiles getting fidgety he asked Stiles to come shopping for groceries with him.

So of course, after that one weekend Stiles kept finding excuses to stay the next weekend and the one after that and the one after that.

“Econ test on Monday.”

“I totally forgot about this book report we had to hand in, and you’ve got great books here.”

“Important lacrosse game next week.” He announced just as he managed to block a punch Derek threw at him.

“Did you make first line?” Derek was way too surprised, that was just insulting.

“No, but if 6 players get badly injured I’ll need to go on the field. I’ve got to be ready for that, Derek. You can’t just expect all the first line players to survive till that game.”

“Right, of course.” Stiles dodged a punch that otherwise would have hit him on his jaw. “You know you could just say you need some sleep, right? People need sleep, even if they don’t have important things coming up in the near future.”

“There’s a game coming up, Derek.” He snapped back.

“I heard you. I’m just saying that you can stay here whenever you want. I don’t mind. I don’t want you to think that you have to make excuses. You shouldn’t have to deal with these nightmares all the ti-“

“Oh come on, I just need sleep, Derek. I can handle the nightmares.”

“It’s okay if you can’t-“ For the first time Stiles kicked at Derek with the intent to hurt.

“What do you want me to say, Derek?” He kicked again, slightly higher this time and Derek didn’t stop him. His foot collided with Derek’s side. “Do you want me to admit it?” He punched and hit Derek in the chest. “Do you want me to say that I can’t handle it?” Another hit to Derek’s abdomen. “That I’m afraid to sleep?” A knee to Derek’s gut. “That I cry every time I wake up?” He pushed Derek away from him. “That I’m weak?” He hooked a foot behind Derek’s leg and made him topple over.

“Is that what you want? Do you just want me to admit that I’m the weak fucker who let everyone around me get hurt? Do you want me to admit that it was all my fault? Do you want me to admit that after all of that I can’t deal with doing it all again and again and again every fucking night? I deserve to relive it every night! I don’t deserve these weekends of nothing! I was too weak to protect the people around me and now I’m too weak to handle the fucking consequences that I fucking deserve! Is that what you wanted to hea-“ Derek finally surged up from the floor and grabbed Stiles tight. Just holding him to his chest.

“It’s okay.” It’s okay? Okay? Stiles’ brain couldn’t process this. He couldn’t process what had posses- nope, wrong word choice – come over him, why he decided that beating up an alpha werewolf would be a good course of action. He couldn’t process the hug he was being pulled into. And he definitely couldn’t process why he was sobbing and crying and fuck it.

“It’s okay, Stiles.” Derek arms felt so good and safe around him. But…

“It’s not. I’m sorry. I-I’m sorry f-for hurting you. For sa-aying all that sh-shit. About your f-family and the fi-ire. I’m s-sorry.” He was fully relying on Derek’s werewolf senses to make out the words between the sobs.

“It wasn’t you. It wasn’t your fault. It’s okay, you’re okay.”

Stiles doesn’t know how much time he spent crying and holding on to Derek for dear life, but it felt like forever but also no time at all. Afterwards, Derek just got them both some water and they settled on the couch to watch some quiz on TV. Derek never mentioned it again.

And Stiles just loved him a little bit more for it.

*****

After spending all those Friday and Saturday nights at Derek’s, his dad started to have some questions of course, but-

“For the last time, dad, Derek Hale is not fucking my underage ass! Even if he wanted to he probably couldn’t because you won’t get the fuck out of it!”

“Language!”

So yes, all was back to normal. Stiles wasn’t quite as sleep deprived anymore but he was getting more and more attracted to a certain sparring partner. Even though he thought that wasn’t possible. But, unlike Stiles’ usual habit of being too obvious about everything, he actually managed to keep this problem to himself quite well . It was probably the self-preservation kicking in because he realized – of course he realized – that Derek was way out of his league, and simply impossible to ever actually get anywhere with.

Hiding his crush became a lot harder one Friday night when things… well… got a little weird.

They were just sparring, like every other Friday night started, but somehow Derek seemed to be so much… closer this time. There was a lot less punching and kicking involved and a lot more grabbing and holding. And it made Stiles very confuzzled.

“You’ve become a lot stronger.” Derek whispered as he held Stiles in a headlock again. At which point Stiles stopped struggling altogether because.

“What the actual fuck?”

“Just saying that you’ve made a lot of progress. You’re getting good at this.” Okay, he’d take that compliment… and totally look at it shrivel to nothing as he tried for a high kick and Derek just grabbed onto his leg.

“Really? You think I could tire you out?” He leaned towards Derek, not sure how to go from there if the alpha wouldn’t let go of Stiles’ leg soon.

“Sure, someday you could tire me out.” Derek leaned in closer as well, a lot closer, if he moved 1 more inch forward their noses would be touching. “Maybe even make me work up a sweat.” Derek leaned in one more inch. “At least I’d like to see you try.” His eyes are even prettier up close like this. They could totally be kissing right now, if Stiles could just bring up the courage to lean in just a little bit more then their lips would touch and it would be wonderful. Why were they always fighting anyway? Stiles didn’t like being a fighter, Stiles wanted to be a loverrrrr.

Derek let go of his leg but Stiles was so not ready to continue this… thing yet. He had to work out what their innocent sparring had turned into all of a sudden. Was this Derek being… flirty? If it was then it was slightly on the creepy side and a lot on the weird side and it had come crashing in very much out of nowhere. And if it was flirting then why? Why now? Why like this? Why with Stiles? Why not just ask him out? Why hadn’t Stiles ever made the first move anyway? Why was he still questioning this if it was flirting, he should be rolling with it. Roll with it till he could roll around the sheets with Derek …. Great plan.

So by a stroke of luck – and maybe because Derek knew what he wanted to do and just totally let him – Stiles managed to drag Derek towards him and twist his arm behind his back.

“You know, Derek, I really like this.” Derek tried to wriggle free, but obviously he wasn’t trying too hard. Stiles jumped on his back instead.

“What? Tell me what you like.” Okay, either this was flirting or Derek had a severe concussion and just didn’t know what the hell he was saying. And seeing as Derek was a werewolf with awesome healing powers….

“I like this, sparring with you. Never bores me.” Stiles didn’t know how Derek did it, but he managed to flip Stiles over his shoulder. So Stiles went from clinging to Derek’s back to clinging to Derek’s front. His legs around Derek’s hips and his arms around Derek’s neck.

“I’m enjoying it too.” Derek breathed out, keeping constant, dizzying eye contact .

“I like it even more than when I was punching your cushion. Though I liked that too, punching your cushion every night for 3 weeks. Made for a good build-up .” Stiles touched their noses together .

“Good build-ups are important.” Derek agreed. And at this point, none of them were even fighting anymore, or pretending to fight. Derek was just carrying Stiles really.

“But too much build-up can lead to frustration, or confusion. Like, is this a build-up to something? Or is this just going nowhere?” Their lips were barely millimetres apart.

“Fuck it.” Derek muttered and then the millimetres were gone. Their lips were touching. Derek was kissing him. Derek was actually kissing Stiles. Stiles was being kissed by Derek. Derek sat down on the couch, Stiles now seated on his lap. As if they were planning on doing this, the kissing – the kissing that was actually really happening – for a long time.

“This whole place smells like you, except for my bed. Every night you’re not here I sleep on this couch because it smells like us. And you…” He kissed Stiles again. “When you walked in here you were wearing my shirt.” He was practically growling by now. “I gave you that weeks ago and you still have it. You wore that thing to school today, Isaac was so confused.” Another kiss. “You fucking reek of me.”

“And all this time you’ve been looking at me with those ridiculous eyes, as if you didn’t know I noticed it . As if you thought I couldn’t hear your heartbeat. But you… you were so…” Derek finally slowed down and let out a freaking whine. “You were so hurt… and I didn’t know how to help you. But when you’re here you can sleep and you don’t have those nightmares and you’re happy. So happy it’s contagious.”

“You fucker!” Stiles grabbed a hold of Derek’s hair and took initiative for once . “You let me fucking crush on you for months and you never said anything about it. I thought you-“ Why couldn’t they stop kissing so Stiles could finally be pissed off at Derek for putting him through this. “For all I knew you were straight. And Danny told me never to fall for the straight guys but I went and did it anyway. I was so freaking sure you were going to be Lydia all over again.”

“But then there you were, taking care of me. Like a freaking domestic god. And I thought I’d lost it when you finally started to open up to me and just talk.” Derek was being gracious and keeping the kissing to Stiles’ neck so he could keep talking. “I came here to… I don’t even know anymore, you were supposed to teach me how to defend myself and you end up making me talk. You made me deal with some of that shit and who knew you’d turn out to be such a freaking teddy bear. All romantic and ugh…”

After all the nightmares, Stiles had been convinced there was nothing better than sleeping on Derek’s couch.

It turns out that sleeping in Derek’s bed with Derek’s arms wrapped around him is actually a lot more comfortable.

#sterek #stiles #derek #teen wolf #nogitsune aftermath #fanfic #original fic

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