Sterek One Shots

Eli

Stiles stared out the window, following the rain trails on the glass with his finger. The large windows in the living room let in so much light during the day the view seemed never-ending. But on nights like this, when it felt ten times darker than it should be, the clouds holding back all kinds of light, Stiles felt so lonely even when he had no reason to be. 

Derek perched on the arm of the couch, watching his mate. The strange aura took over the male, and Derek didn't know what to do about it. Derek had tried everything, but they continued to come up short. Derek wanted to give Stiles the world, he would give him the world, but it never seemed to help on nights like this; when Stiles would sit on the window seat and nearly melt into the darkness. He never moved or spoke, and sometimes Derek wasn't sure if Stiles was breathing. Stiles would sit in front of the window all night and not move until morning, or it stopped raining. 

Sadly it rained a lot in Oregon, so Stiles was always at the window. Ten years ago, they left Beacon Hills, it was the best decision they had made, and when they first got to the new state, Stiles wasn't like this. Only in the last two years has something changed. 

Derek knew what it was, even if he didn't want to admit it. It was the one thing they both wanted but couldn't have, no matter how many options they tried. The large house they built was empty, with too many rooms and not enough bodies to fill it.

"Stiles, come on. Let's go to bed." Derek whispered, wrapping his arms around Stiles and lifting him to his chest. 

"Okay," Stiles muttered, burying his face in Derek's neck. Derek knew Stiles would let him take him to be and climb out only a few hours later to return to the window. But Derek had to try; he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't. 

A loud knock on the other side of the house brought Derek to a stop in the hallway. He glanced at the clock on the wall. "Who's here at eleven at night? I swear you told the FBI you were taking some leave." Derek grumbled as Stiles slid down his body, his feet meeting the floor. 

"It's not them. Someone else. Important." Still muttered, looking past Derek. 

Derek stared at Stiles for a moment, trying to figure out the strange speech pattern. "You're sounding like Lydia." Derek sighs, turning to begin through the house to the main entry door. Derek didn't have to wonder if Stiles was following him; the faint sound of feet hitting the hardwood answered him. 

Derek sighed as he reached the door, quietly pulling out his wolf and setting it on edge if needed. He pulled the door open, looking to the stoop, the outside light shining bright on the person looking away from the house. The body turned slowly, peering up at Derek with the soft green eyes he saw every day in the mirror. "Hi, Dad." 

"Who– Eli." Derek breathed, taking the child in. Well, he wasn't a child anymore. No, he was a tall teenager. "Come in, hurry." Derek stepped out of the way and grabbed the bags that sat at Eli's feet. 

"Thanks; I know it's late." Eli quietly mutters as he steps into the house, looking around the large entry. "Nice place." 

"What are you doing here? Your moms gotta worried sick." Derek looked the boy over. 

"Who's that?" Eli looks to where Stiles stands at the edge of the entry, seeming to be trying to shrink into the wall. 

"Why don't we go sit down and get you dried off? Then we can talk." Derek gestured his hand for them to walk further into the house. Eli nodded as he followed Derek through the house, stopping at a closed door. "You can stay in here. The bathroom is across the hall. I– We'll be in the living room when you're ready to talk." Derek pressed the door open to the bedroom and set Eli's bags inside.