The one where Derek comes back and remembers Stiles
Disclaimer: I’m not watching S6, frankly TW, for me, stopped after S4 (and I’m taking S4 only because I’m accepting that Derek left that hellhole) so, it stands to reason that I wouldn’t have to want to write a fix-it fic, if I’m not even considering the season, right? well. the fact that everyone forgot Stiles BUGS me and this idea wouldn’t leave me alone, so here it is.
Shout-out to @hoechlbutt for being the best and helping me get through my assignments till the very end, and encouraging me to actually write this <3
He didn’t know why, he just knew that it was time.
He was ready to go back to Beacon Hills.
His time away had helped him to put himself back together,
and see things in perspective.
And in all that time, if there was one thing he’d always
been sure of, was that he missed something. Or someone, he’d worked on himself enough to be able to admit that to
He missed him. And
right now, he just wanted to see him again.
So, Derek climbed on the pick-up – he’d come to own during
his travels, and drove towards California.
Stiles hates the new guy at the office. Derek’s a natural at everything the job throws at him, whereas Stiles still sometimes struggles to use the fax machine. Derek’s really nice too – he’ll bring coffee for the whole team and always asks if everyone’s okay. Stiles… doesn’t do that. The biggest problem of all? Since Derek’s arrival Stiles just. can’t. focus. He zones out in meetings because he’s too busy trying to work out the color of Derek’s eyes. He’s missing deadlines because he gets distracted wondering if Derek likes guys, if Derek’s seeing someone, if Derek would keep his glasses on whilst they– Derek’s very distracting is the point, and it’s starting to affect Stiles’ work. So, yes. Stiles hates Derek. Still loves to watch him leave though.
Stiles opens his mouth a few times, like he wants to say something. He can’t at first, just shuts his jaw as his heart rate picks up at a steady pace.
Finally, he clicks his tongue against his teeth and says, “They’re blue,” with a little crack around the end.
Derek eyes his profile warily. None of the pack knew why Stiles had chosen to sequester himself in this room, but he’d had his suspicions. The teen doesn’t meet his gaze now. Just gives a little look up at the mirror then goes back to plucking at the denim of his jeans.
“Can I see?”
Stiles head snaps toward him, and Derek raises his eyebrows in silent response. He tries not to let his eyes flick down to the boy’s mouth out of habit. Fails.
He’s surprised when Stiles complies effortlessly. He always knew Stiles would make a good werewolf. He’s almost too good, picking up control like it’s a skill he’s had hiding beneath his bed.
Derek thinks of himself. Thinks of Paige. Thinks of being alone and heartbroken with blue burning behind his eyelids. Think of his mother crouched down in front him with her hard jawline and soft smile.
With his heart lodged behind his adam’s apple, he reaches out and rests his hand on the side of Stiles’ neck, his thumb brushing the turn of his jaw beneath the ear. Stiles’ eyes (still brilliant, glowing blue) scan his face. Right eye, left eye, mouth, and back.
“Still beautiful,” Derek says finally, “just like the rest of you.”