Work Text:
When Stiles comes back in the fall, back from his cross-country trip with his father to visit prospective colleges, Derek sees a change.
It catches him in surprise when Stiles opens the jeep door and doesn't fall out in his usual flailing, nervous way. Catches him off guard, like Scott's claws do moments later. He feels relief course through him when Stiles laughs, because it is still the same, still warm and pouring out of his very soul. Derek hangs back as his pack crowds around Stiles, very much the visage of eager puppies Stiles likes to call them. He hangs back and watches, categorizing all the minute changes; Stiles is taller, they would probably at eye-level now, and though his hair is still buzzed, it works now, doesn't make him look childish at all, not with his face having finally lost its clinging childhood.
Derek orders his pack to find the item he hid earlier that day in the woods. Scott whines and Erica glares but when Derek stares them down they follow Isaac, Boyd, and Jackson into the woods, casting long looks back at Stiles. Even Boyd, Derek's rock, looking vaguely sulk-ish.
"Couldn't wait to have me all to yourself?" Stiles' voice is low when Derek turns to look at him, the sounds of his pack moving through the woods fading away even to his ears. He's leaning against the hood of the jeep, pulling off the nonchalant look with ease. Before, Stiles would have been twitching within seconds.
Derek takes a step closer and pauses, uncertain. His wolf whines, wanting to confirm that this man is really the boy they know and lo--
And then Stiles smiles, a quirk of his cupid's bow lips and Derek knows, knows that this man is still Stiles, that the sarcastic front is still there, that the strange humor is zinging around on his tongue waiting to be released, and Derek feels at ease for the first time since Stiles arrived.
He jerks his head toward the house, no longer a burnt shell, instead a slowly renovated ghost of what it once was. They have been working on it for a year, the last portion nearly built. It doesn't look exactly the same as it once did, but between Peter and Derek there are some parts brought back. Others drastically changed.
Derek walks in, knows Stiles will follow, and he does, he always does, he's Derek's constant. His moon. He follows in orbit; they are always circling around each other.
Stiles takes lead when they are inside, heading straight toward the kitchen. He examines the sink and counter where dishes have piled up from this week and grimaces, sending Derek a look that clearly says he thinks that the pack has been falling apart during his absence. And they have. Without Stiles to be their glue, the pack has been crumbling all summer. Erica has been snappish, Isaac more skittish, Boyd less talkative, Jackson back to being surly even with the constant presence of his mate, Scott headstrong, and Peter... always the wild card.
Stiles does look impressed when he finds that the cupboards are still stocked with dry food, but less so when he opens the fridge and sees the takeout containers. Erica and Isaac tried cooking one night a week after Stiles left and it failed miserably. It was a good thing they hadn't installed the smoke detectors yet. Since then it had been takeout, except for the times when Derek or Peter couldn't take the bickering over what to eat and would make something - drudging up memories of Derek's mother cooking in this very kitchen.
Of course the kitchen has changed, smooth cherry wood cupboards and black marble counter top where before there had been sandalwood and spotted marble counters. Its darker, the wood absorbs the light coming from the breakfast nook and the window over the sink, but seems homier then before. Especially with Erica pinning their test scores on the fridge right next to the pictures Allison has been taking. His favorite, a laughing Stiles hanging upside down from the couch, is front and center, surrounded by other pictures of various members of the pack. There's a silly drawing, partially hidden in the back, that Erica did. Derek remembers her vicious smirk when she'd presented it to Stiles. Stiles had flushed and tried to hide it (the scuffle between him and Derek had resulted in the drawing ripping down the middle. Derek still remembers looking down and seeing himself clutching the half that had three stick figures drawn, labeled with Stiles MOM, Scott, Erica.). He'd let Isaac take it and tape it back together before he had attached it to the fridge. Stiles' scowl, they all claimed, was worth it.
(Lydia claimed that she once saw Derek smile when he read it. They all agreed that it was probably because Erica, very risky of her, had written DAD over the stick figure Derek, who stood next to the stick figure MOM.)
He realizes Stiles had been talking to him when he moves in front of Derek, looking slightly concerned.
"What?" Derek growls, bringing himself out of his memories. He's right, Stiles is his height now, they look eye to eye, gray-hazel to drowning honey-brown.
Stiles huffs a breath. "I said, did you guys eat anything other than take out?"
"I cooked. Peter cooked."
Stiles rolls his eyes, looks around the kitchen and then nods decisively. "How much longer do you think we have until the puppies are back?"
Derek glares halfheartedly at having his pack being called puppies, but then again Stiles is part of his pack, just like Lydia, Allison, Danny and even the Sheriff and Scott's mother are. (And Erica is right, Stiles is the mother.) "Awhile. They won't think to look in lake." Stiles raises his eyebrows at that. The lake really isn't a lake, more a large pond that lays on the edge of the preserve.
"Then..." Stiles says slowly, taking a step forward, pushing his way into Derek's space. Derek's wolf raises his head, scenting the air, whining when he smells Stiles so near, catches the wave of arousal, of ma- "We have time...?"
Derek searches Stiles' eyes. They've been dancing around this so much, have been since the first time Stiles' saved Derek's life, perhaps even before, perhaps since their first meeting in the woods. And Stiles is no longer a boy, his eighteenth birthday having come and passed just before he had returned (Derek's lips are sealed on the party Lydia has been planning).
When they finally do kiss, Derek finds the Stiles he knows - he's nervous, pushing forward eagerly so that their teeth clash rather than lips. They bump noses until Derek reaches up, cups Stiles' face and takes control, eases their mouth's together, teasing kisses that entice whines from both Stiles' and his wolf.
When Stiles pulls back breathless, face flushed and eyes glittering happily, Derek can't help the small smile he shares in the privacy of the moment. He knows Stiles has changed over the summer away, but he is still his Stiles and that's all that matters in the coming years.