Chapter Text
“What’s got you all happy, Stiles?” Erica asked, eyebrow raised skeptically. Derek looked up from his book to see that Stiles was, indeed, looking and smelling happy and content. And - Derek tilted his head to the side, inhaling sharply - excited?
“Nothing,” Stiles immediately answered, but every wolf in the room huffed in response. Stiles should know better than to lie in a room full of werewolves. He glared at them all in turn. “You guys are the worst, you know. Can’t a man just be happy for once?”
Isaac groaned. “Not when the last time you smelled this happy, you’d accidentally gotten yourself mixed up with those mermaids. I still have nightmares about their teeth, dude.”
Stiles turned back to his book, trying to ignore the pack around him. Stiles was working on his master’s degree, which meant that he had class in person only one day a week. He’d decided to commute that single day from Beacon Hills, instead of having an apartment in the city, so for the past six months Stiles and Derek were housemates.
Derek absolutely loved living with Stiles, not that he’d ever admit to it.
Erica slinked over to the table where Stiles was sitting, pulling a chair right up next to him and inhaling obnoxiously close to his neck. Derek had to suppress a growl at their closeness - they’d been pack for years now. Erica could scent and touch Stiles all she wanted; she was mated to Boyd anyways, and the stoic man was completely unbothered by the close friendship between Erica and Stiles. Derek had no business feeling… anything about how close Erica was to Stiles right now.
“Smells… happy,” Erica repeated, sniffing again, “and excited,” another sniff, “now laced with a hint of annoyance,” she grinned ferally. “I could keep this up forever, you know. Just tell us.”
Derek couldn’t help but be curious, although his methods of getting information out of Stiles were much more basic than Erica’s way of being annoying.
Baseball game, beer, and chinese food, to be specific. Stiles talked - a lot - when he had a full belly and a game on television.
Stiles swatted at Erica’s face, poking her in the eye before literally facepalming her and pushing her away from him with all his strength. It only made her tilt sideways a little bit before she caught herself on the table and leaned in close once more.
“Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me,” she began, voice getting more and more annoying with every repeat. Stiles, who had still been trying to read his textbook, finally threw down his highlighter.
“Fine!” he said, interrupting Erica’s chant. “I’m happy because I have a date on Wednesday, okay?” He stared at Erica for a few more seconds before turning back to his book with purpose.
Erica’s eyes widened in surprise before she looked over at Derek across the room, a look of complete shock on her face. And underneath, was that - pity?
Derek immediately broke eye contact, going back to his book. He couldn’t concentrate on the words, though, his mind racing. Stiles had a date ? On Wednesday? But Wednesday was their night, they always ordered pizza on Wednesdays and watched a movie. But also -
Derek did some quick thinking and realized that Wednesday was Valentine’s Day . Stiles had a date for Valentine’s Day? With who? When did this happen? Was Stiles dating someone? Was Stiles ever going to tell Derek, or was he just going to disappear and ditch their standing Wednesday night hang out?
“You have a date on Valentine’s Day? With who?”
Sometimes Derek thanked the moon that Erica had no filter and asked the questions everyone else clearly wanted the answers to. He kept his eyes on his book, but listened intently for the answers he was seeking.
Stiles sighed, and Derek heard that he set his highlighter down again. “Yes, I have a date on Valentine’s Day. With Justin, he’s in the master’s program for math. Lydia introduced us, I guess she encouraged him to ask me out.”
Lydia . Derek was going to murder the banshee.
Actually, Derek was probably more scared of Lydia than he was upset about Stiles having a date, so scratch that thought. But he wanted to murder her.
“So, this is a new thing?” Isaac’s voice was hesitant. Derek hoped he wasn’t sitting close enough to Derek to scent the discomfort and - dare he say - sadness that was surely surrounding him.
“Yeah, I mean this will be our first date. I’ve known him for a while, and apparently he’s been interested, but he thought I was in a relationship. Once Lydia confirmed that I wasn’t, he asked me out. It’s been a while since I’ve gone out on a proper date, so I’m looking forward to it. Hopefully it’ll be fun.”
Derek didn’t want to be anywhere near his packmates anymore so he quickly stood, mumbled something about the bathroom, and headed for his room. His room was the largest suite in the house, since he was the Alpha. While Stiles was the only person who lived with him full time, most of the pack had bedrooms at the house. Derek passed all of their rooms on the way to his own at the end of the hall, pausing at Stiles’s open door and glancing in.
It was so very Stiles it made Derek’s chest hurt. Organized chaos, Stiles called it. Books and clothes were stacked haphazardly on the cedar chest and dresser, but his desk and bed were mostly clear of clutter. Derek inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of pure Stiles that was his room.
Instead of comforting him like normal, Stiles’s scent only made Derek sad - Stiles had a date coming up. Needing to get away from that scent, Derek hurried the rest of the way to his own room, closing the door behind him and throwing his book toward the chair by the bay window. He stood just inside the door, feeling dejected and sorry for himself.
No, he didn’t want to feel this way anymore. Derek quickly stripped out of his clothes and headed for the large window by his bed, opening it as a man and jumping out to land on the soft ground outside as a wolf.
A good, solid run through the preserve always made him feel better.
By the time Derek was back at the pack house, it was late and the others had dispersed. As he headed for his en suite to shower, he heard Stiles moving around in his own bedroom.
Derek turned the water as hot as he could, wanting to scald away the emotional aches of the day. His time running as a wolf had mellowed his emotional response to finding out that Stiles had a Valentine’s date, but now that he was human again he just felt numb.
It wasn’t like he and Stiles were together, he told himself. It wasn’t like Stiles had any idea that Derek was interested. It wasn’t his place to be jealous, or angry, or sad.
Damn Lydia, why did she have to encourage this relationship in the first place?
Luckily Derek had run hard enough and long enough that he was exhausted, so after his shower he didn’t do anything but crawl into bed and fall into a fitful sleep.
Mondays were Derek’s least favorite days. Mondays were the days Stiles had class, so he left right after breakfast and didn’t return until dinnertime or later.
Today, however, Derek didn’t mind Stiles leaving. It meant the awkward atmosphere between them could take a break and Derek could be at home without feeling horrible.
He was looking forward to being alone in the house, maybe being productive for the first time since Stiles’s admission about his date. It felt like the past few days Derek had just been going through the motions of his daily routine, but in actuality he’d been doing everything in his power to avoid Stiles at all costs.
Productivity today was coming slow, however. Derek was sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping his coffee and scrolling through the local newspaper on his phone, when the front door opened.
He focused his attention toward the door and realized it was Lydia - the current cause of all his problems - stalking into the packhouse in her heels like she owned the place.
Derek did his best to gather his Alphaness to at least pretend like he was in charge of her before she rounded the corner and glared at him.
For as much as she had caused him grief, he did not like to be the recipient of Lydia Martin’s glare. What was worse, he didn’t have any clue what he’d done to deserve this particular glare.
“Derek Hale!” she snapped, putting her hands on her hips. “You are a piece of work!”
Derek set his phone down slowly, not wanting to spook her with any sudden movements. “Um,” he said eloquently. “What?”
Lydia rolled her eyes - an eyeroll that he wished he could bottle up to use himself later, it was impressive - and walked over to start herself some coffee from the Keurig, finding her own special brew pod that they always kept in stock.
“‘What?’ he asks, like he doesn’t know,” she muttered to herself before slamming the Keurig shut and turning toward him again. “Stiles!” she exclaimed, like that would clear up his confusion.
It didn’t.
“What about Stiles?” Derek asked cautiously. He didn’t particularly want to talk about Stiles, seeing that it was Stiles having a date that had gotten him into this funk to begin with.
Lydia scoffed. “You boys can’t do anything for yourselves, can you?” she asked, but Derek knew that question was rhetorical. “Stiles,” she said clearly, eyes drilling into Derek’s skull, “has a date Wednesday night.”
Derek swallowed the whine that wanted to escape his throat and he simply nodded, looking down so that she couldn’t read the hurt in his eyes.
“See!” she practically yelled, making Derek’s eyes snap back up to her. “That’s what I’m talking about! You’re obviously upset about Stiles having a date. Derek, seriously…”
Derek frowned. “I don’t know what -”
“Oh, don’t try to deny it,” Lydia interrupted. “You’ve been head over paws for him for years, it’s so obvious. The rest of the pack even thinks you two have been dating secretly for ages, living in this house all by yourselves.”
Derek frowned, trying to follow Lydia’s fast talking. The Keurig beeped and her glare finally left his face, but he continued to watch her as she turned to get her coffee. “What do you mean?”
Lydia groaned. “Don’t play coy with me, Derek Hale,” she said, blowing on her coffee before taking a sip and approaching, perching herself properly on the stool next to him. “You’re in love with Stiles. It’s okay, as his former crush and current best friend, I wholeheartedly approve. But the two of you won’t get your heads out of your asses and actually do anything about your feelings. So, I might have planted a few seeds around in order to poke the bear… or, wolf, as it were.”
Derek frowned. “So, let me get this straight. You know how I feel about Stiles, so you told someone else to ask him out?” The whole feeling of wanting to murder the banshee wasn’t fading with her explanation.
“Of course!” Lydia said. “Jealousy is a fantastic motivator. It would have worked, with anyone else. But I forgot how much of a martyr you two are, so now we’re here in this horrible situation where Stiles is actually going on a date with someone that’s not you .”
Derek sipped his coffee before letting his anger boil over just a little bit more. “So, you encouraged some asshole to ask Stiles out -”
“Justin’s not actually an asshole, Derek, he’s just not right for Stiles.”
“- in an attempt to make me jealous so that I would, what? Make a move? Ask him out? Why the hell would you think that would work?”
Lydia sighed. “I admit, it wasn’t one of my better plans.”
Derek groaned, anger dissipating, letting his head fall to the counter and rolling his head side to side in misery. Lydia’s hand came up to scratch soothing patterns on his upper back.
“It’s okay, Derek,” she said. “That’s why I came over today. I have another plan to fix this.”
Derek’s head rolled far enough that he could eye her without raising his head. “I don’t know if you should get any more involved…”
“Oh, hush,” she said. “I promise you, Valentine’s night will end with a Stiles-and-Derek kiss, or my scream can’t make your ears bleed.”
Derek felt like he was going to implode. He might be an Alpha, but unless a confrontation was with his claws, it was not his favorite thing to do. Especially when it came to confrontations with Stiles.
He definitely didn’t want to have to bring his claws out for this situation.
Derek looked up at the restaurant as he straightened out his blazer, trying to gather his wits. He walked around the Camaro to open the passenger door, Lydia climbing out in a sleek black dress, looking like she was royalty.
“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” she hissed, checking her lipstick in the reflection on the Camaro’s back window.
“I’m in this situation because of you, it’s the least you could do,” Derek snapped back. Lydia’s glare wasn’t as piercing because she knew he was right. Satisfied with her make-up, she tucked her hand properly into the crook of his arm and they headed inside.
As the maitre d led them to their table, Derek looked around the restaurant for Stiles. He spotted him quickly, seated halfway across the room at a table with a guy with dirty blonde hair. Derek was still staring at them when they got to their table, and just as he was sitting down, Stiles’s eyes met his.
To say there was a look of surprise on Stiles’s face when he took in the picture of Derek and Lydia sitting down together would be an understatement.
Derek looked away, fiddling with his napkin. “Stiles saw me,” he said to Lydia. She raised an eyebrow, nodding. “Good,” was all she replied before a waiter came to their table and she rattled off her wine order, ordering for Derek, too. Derek couldn’t wait to get the bill for their meal - Lydia was sure to milk this upscale restaurant for all it was worth.
With the way they were seated, Derek couldn’t see Stiles without turning his body around and being obvious about it. He kept glaring at Lydia, silently pleading for her to give him an update on Stiles, but she never did. He was pretty sure she glanced over in their direction a few times, but never commented.
Instead, Lydia talked to him about the status of her own thesis, the professors who were coaching her, and a million other things that he couldn’t make himself concentrate on.
Their food was ordered and arrived, and halfway through their meal, as Derek’s fork was halfway to his mouth, Lydia interrupted herself mid-sentence.
“Time for you to have a restroom break, Derek,” she said. It took Derek a minute to realize that she’d stopped her rant with her own interruption, and he set his fork back down as he replayed her words.
“What?” he asked eloquently. Lydia rolled her eyes.
“Stiles just excused himself. Now’s your chance.”
Derek looked around to see that Stiles’s date was sitting by himself now, the other nowhere in sight. He stood, setting his napkin in his empty chair before he headed for the back corner, guessing the restroom was that way.
A helpful waiter pointed him in the right direction and then Derek was opening the door, finding himself presented with Stiles at the sink, washing his hands.
Stiles looked up, meeting Derek’s eyes in the mirror. To Derek’s disappointment, he scowled and looked back at his hands.
“Hey,” Derek greeted lamely. He hadn’t actually talked to Stiles in a few days now, seeing as he’d been actively avoiding him at home.
Stiles didn’t reply, turning the water off a little more forcefully than necessary and roughly grabbing some paper towels to dry his hands off.
“Stiles,” Derek started again, taking a step closer. Stiles reared around to face him and Derek was surprised to see that his eyes were a bit red.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve, Derek,” Stiles hissed. Derek rocked backward, surprised at the venom in his voice. “I mean, it’s one thing to… But Lydia? Seriously?”
Derek frowned. He was thrown off by Stiles’s anger and the obvious unshed tears in his eyes. This was not the conversation he’d planned on having. Stiles moved to push past him and leave the restroom, but Derek grabbed his arm to keep him there.
“Wait, Stiles,” Derek said, letting Stiles go when he shook Derek’s hand off. Stiles didn’t leave yet, though, stepping back and crossing his arms to glare Derek down instead. He raised his eyebrows in a Continue, let’s see what you’ve got kind of way.
Derek swallowed, trying to review what he and Lydia had planned on him saying, but he couldn’t remember a damn thing.
“Stiles,” Derek started again. “You… what happened to our Wednesday night hang?”
That wasn’t what Derek wanted to ask, nor was it what Stiles apparently wanted to hear. “Our Wednesday night hang?” Stiles repeated, his voice angry and his eyes becoming more glassy. “ That’s what you’re asking about? Why I’m not at home right now, being a slob and eating pizza with you on the couch?”
Derek looked down, wishing with every fiber of his being that they could be at home, sitting on the couch and eating pizza together. That sounded… wonderful.
“That’s what you’re cornering me in the bathroom to ask me about, why I’m here on a date with a nice guy instead of at home with you, my…” Stiles swallowed, looking around the room like he was searching for the right word. “...my Alpha?”
Derek couldn’t help it, the way his eyes flashed at the sound of Stiles calling him his Alpha. But it was more than that - he wanted Stiles to call him his Alpha and so many other things.
Derek gathered his courage and stood taller, determined to steer the conversation in the direction he wanted it to go. “Yes, Stiles. I want to know why you’re here on a date with some random guy you’ve never mentioned before instead of at home, with me, like you should be. I want to know why you didn’t tell me you were going to start dating, why we couldn’t have at least had a conversation about it, instead of letting me be blindsided by the news in the middle of my living room, in front of my pack , last week.”
Stiles frowned. “It’s not like you care anyway,” Stiles said, obviously trying to be harsh but his voice wavering a little bit. “You immediately turned around and asked Lydia out, it’s almost like you were waiting for me to have a date so you’d be free to ask her.”
Derek guffawed. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” he said, unable to stop the laugh from escaping him. “I am not in any way, shape, or form, interested in dating Lydia .”
“Then why are you here with her?” Stiles yelled. “Why are you here , where Lydia knew I would be with Justin because she suggested this stupid restaurant, with her , on Valentine’s Day , if not to rub it in my face?”
“Because we were trying to make you angry!” Derek yelled back before realizing what he said. His eyes went as round as Stiles’s in that moment, knowing that he probably just fucked everything up. “I mean, that’s not right. Lydia said - she was just - I -”
Derek couldn’t talk himself out of the hole he just dug himself into. He slumped, losing all the confidence he’d mustered up, unable to meet Stiles’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Stiles. I’ll leave now. Enjoy your date, I’ll stay in the preserve tonight in case things go well.”
Derek didn’t want to think about Stiles’s date going well enough that he would bring his date home, but he didn’t know what else to say. He turned to open the door and leave, but this time Stiles’s hand was the one that slammed against it, keeping Derek from leaving.
“Derek,” Stiles said softly, standing close enough for Derek to feel the warmth of his body through their clothes. “No more secrets or tricks - I’m so tired of this thing that’s been between us the past few days.” He paused, swallowing deeply. “What is going on?”
Derek sighed, hands dropping to his sides.
“Lydia said she encouraged Justin to ask you out to make me jealous,” Derek said to the floor. “It worked. She thought that me being jealous would make me… admit to you how I feel. But, in her words, she’d forgotten how much of a martyr I can be, and realized that I wasn’t going to ruin your happiness for a chance at my own. So, she told me to come here for dinner, so you could see us and, I don’t know. You could be the one to get angry at me .”
Stiles was quiet for a minute, long enough that Derek reached for the door again. Stiles’s hand, still on the door, moved to grab Derek’s and spin him around.
“I did,” he said, making Derek look up at him. “Get angry. Obviously.” Derek nodded, feeling ashamed. “But Derek, I don’t want you to be a martyr. We’ve talked about this, you do not have the right to sacrifice your own happiness and well-being for the pack. Can we pretend, for just a minute, that you aren’t a martyr and you just now found out I had a date? What would you want to say to me?”
Derek’s eyes widened, realizing that Stiles was giving him another chance. He panicked, for a moment, before gathering every ounce of Alpha courage.
“I don’t want you to go on a date with anybody but me.”
Stiles’s eyes widened slightly, but his mouth quirked up on one side. “And why’s that, Sourwolf?” he asked, leading Derek on.
Derek scowled, but pushed forward. “Because I’m in love with you.”
Stiles’s entire body seemed to relax and his face broke out into a grin. “Well, why didn’t you just say so?” he asked cheekily, before leaning in to press their lips together. It was so quick that Derek didn’t even have a chance to respond - Stiles rocked back on his heels to look him in the eye and say, “I’m in love with you, too, by the way.”
Derek growled, not sure if he was annoyed at the whole situation, or Stiles’s cheekiness, or the inkling feeling that they could have been kissing for years now. He reached out for Stiles’s face, pulling him in close to give him a proper kiss. Stiles was smiling too much for it to be really good, but Derek thought that Stiles’s smile made it even better, in its own way.
Derek’s phone buzzed in his pocket, which Stiles could feel easily since they were pressed up together. To Derek’s surprise, Stiles reached into Derek’s pocket to grab it himself, reading a text with a laugh.
“Lydia is taking Justin out for pity ice cream,” he said, showing Derek the screen, “and paying for our dinner. That’s as much of an apology from her as we’ll get.”
Derek grinned, glad that they didn’t have to go out and deal with their dates. “In that case, let’s go home. I would really like to be a slob and eat pizza with you on the couch like any other Wednesday night.”
Stiles winked at him. “Now you might even get a little action on the side, too.”
Derek’s eyes flashed, interested in that potential. “As long as I’m with you, I’ll be happy.”
Stiles groaned, threading their fingers together with one hand and reaching for the door with the other. “You’re going to be sappy and gross, aren’t you? I shoulda known, Derek Hale: romantic at heart.”
Derek kissed Stiles’s cheek as they walked back into the restaurant proper. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m not a romantic,” he replied with a smile.
Stiles might not be a werewolf, but they both knew Derek was lying.
And Stiles? Stiles smelled happier than Derek had ever scented before.