Blurry » Sterek

Chapter 3

"Bisexual or not, you were definitely undressing that guy with your eyes," Stiles taunts. Scott rolls his eyes, "Was not."

"Look, there he is now? Should I invite him over?" Stiles grins, getting an annoyed expression from his best friend. "You're not inviting Issac over, and I'm not into him." Stiles only smirks, "I never said you were." Scott groans in protest and shakes his head, "Don't you have your own problems to worry about anyway?" He gestures to Derek with his head, who's climbing into a black Camaro, that happens to be parked next to Stiles' blue Jeep.

Stiles sighs, "It's a lost cause. The Derek I knew would never be like that. Not toward me at least. Well, maybe if he was pissed at me but that's besides the point."

"Maybe you pissed him off before he left," Scott shrugs. "Nice. Real nice, Scott," Stiles grumbles.

Finally he pulls out of the parking space so the two advance toward the Jeep, ready for the half day to be over already.

"Where are you going? I thought we were going to your place?" Scott says, clearly confused with his eyebrows knitted together. Stiles hesitates, tapping a finger anxiously against the steering wheel. "I kind of want to be alone for awhile.."

Scott smiles sadly at his friend and places a firm hand on his shoulder. "I get it, dude. Just don't get too torn up over this Derek thing, okay?"

"Yeah...thanks." Scott sends Stiles one last glance before climbing from the passenger seat and going into his house. Stiles sighs and shakes his head, did I do something wrong before he left? He tried to be there for Derek after his house burnt down, but majority of his family had just been burned alive. He wasn't exactly accepting of Stiles' attempts to comfort him. Then again, Derek hugged Noah longingly, all the while, ignoring Stiles.

Stiles doesn't even know how he drives from Scott's to his own house, the whole trip is a blur.

"What're you looking at?" Stiles asks curiously, anything to get Derek off his mind. Noah sits hunched over the kitchen table, covering whatever he's intently flipping through. "Come have a look at this," The sheriff waves him over instead of answering the question.

Stiles immediately frowns at the photo, eyes pricking with tears. It's him and Derek on the first day of their seventh grade, about a month before the Hale fire. Stiles has a goofy grin on his face with his arm slung around Derek's shoulder. Derek just stares over at Stiles instead of the camera, with a slightly amused expression.

"That's great, dad," Stiles tries to smile, but his voice cracks and Noah is instantly looking up at his son with concern. Stiles wipes at his face and takes a step back, nodding for no reason and his face crinkles, as if it'll stop his wave of emotion.

"Stiles—" Noah shakes his head as he slowly stands from his seat, "I'm sorry. I heard Hale was back in town, I just thought—"

"I saw him," Stiles confirms with a gulp, "Dad, he-he didn't even recognize me." Inevitably, warm tears spill over and down his cheeks. "Come here, son," Noah sighs, quickly pulling Stiles into a hug.

"How could he—why? I don't understand, dad, I don't get it."