Til The Dawn [Midnights #1] ✓

chapter 49

Derek let his head hit the back of the door with a dull thud as soon as he made it through, the exhaustion that always accompanied the morning after a full moon hitting him hard.

He was still caked in dirt and sweat, maybe a little bit of blood, he couldn't be sure, and he had never been more ready to fall into his bed. But he also knew that wasn't an option. He still had a job. He still had responsibilities he couldn't ignore.

And since poor Scott and Isaac, who had been right there with him all night going through all the same shit, had to be at school earlier than him, he knew better than to complain. Sure, he was older than them, but not like Peter. And certainly not in the way that allowed him to bitch and moan about the lack of sleep.

He hadn't even been out of school all that long, and he'd been coaching hardly any time at all.

Yeah, he didn't have any room to be calling out of work for something like the full moon. Even if he felt like death warmed over right now.

Derek toed off his tennis shoes, not wanting to wake Peter if he'd managed to fall asleep. And if Stiles was running late, he didn't want to be the one who startled him, morphing him into chaos personified. Honestly, all of them could stand to get some rest.

But today was not the day.

When he rounded the corner and made his way into the kitchen, the hint of a grin played on his lips. Two large fruit punch Gatorades sat on the counter, though Stiles would have insisted they were red if he were here, demanding they be distinguished by their color, not their flavor. Only cops knew the flavors, he said.

But Stiles wasn't here, it turned out. Though his blanket was folded neatly and stacked with everything else Peter must have laid out for him the night before at the end of the couch.

A note in Stiles' chicken scratch also lay beside the Gatorades, and Derek couldn't help the chuckle that fell from his lips as he read it.

Hey Sourwolf,

Ordered pizza last night and got way too much because I was missin' you.

-Stiles

He'd even gone so far as to dot all his Is with tiny hearts, which left Derek shaking his head and smiling wider than he had since the last time he'd seen Stiles in person.

It was a sweet gesture, and the pizza that had been recently reheated made his mouth water, but he needed a shower first. Everything else would have to wait. At least it seemed Stiles was officially letting him off the hook. He could stop groveling now.

As he made his way through the quiet house, only greeted by the sounds of Peter's steady breathing, he peeled off his shredded tank top and tossed it right inside his door. He knew he was adding it to an already shockingly large pile of laundry he desperately needed to do, but he didn't have time. And he continued to the bathroom before he backtracked, deciding to grab a few things first.

A floral scent invaded his senses as soon as he propped the door open more and walked inside, confusing him fully. He certainly didn't remember having left it smelling like that, but he wouldn't put it past Stiles to clean up after him either. But the deeper inside the room he went, the more bewildered he became.

Because Kate Argent was in his bed.

Kate Argent, who he'd pined after for years as she'd pranced around his house as his sister's best friend. Kate Argent, who he'd dated all through the first two years of high school. Kate Argent, who had been taken from him far too soon.

Kate Argent, whose funeral he'd definitely attended with Peter.

And then it hit him. She was here. She was with him. If anything, it was a gift. Uninterrupted time to explore the space where she still existed, fully formed in his mind. He'd assumed he had been handling everything in stride. That he'd done a good job of pushing it as far out of his conscious thought as possible.