"Jesus," his dad says, running his hands over Stiles' face, down his arms, like he's trying to make sure that he's really there. "Derek," he says, acknowledging the presence behind Stiles. "Are you alright, son?"
"Yeah," Derek says. "Yeah. We're fine. The wards alerted us in time."
"You sure there's no one else inside?" he asks, shooting worried looks at the inferno Stiles is studiously ignoring right now.
Stiles shakes his head. "Yeah, I'm sure." He begged and pleaded and bargained to send them all away for the weekend. He made meticulous plans, down to the tiniest detail. He just didn't think to factor in a frickin' fire.
"Hunters?" his dad asks, looking grim.
"Probably," Derek replies. His voice is no more than a whisper, and Stiles can feel his muscles twitching, like he's crying, silently, with his whole body. Stiles' heart picks up speed. Dammit, this is not happening.
He'd made Derek's favorite cheesecake. He'd bought a new dress shirt for the occasion. He'd got a damn haircut, because he wanted Derek to look at him and be impressed. He wanted Derek's eyes to shine. He wanted Derek happy and giddy and turned on. He didn't want him in shock and scared and mourning his family all over again.
He turns in Derek's arms and pulls him close, burying his face in Derek's neck to find his scent beneath the soot.
"We're okay," he whispers. "It's okay now."
Derek shivers under Stiles' touch and lets out a small, hurt sound.
"It's okay," Stiles insists. "It's just the house. It's just things. We can buy new stuff. We can build another house. It's all going to be okay, because we're fine."
Derek nods and takes deep breaths, trying to control his body's response. Stiles knows Derek would've felt infinitely better had there been a bad guy to fight. If he could just give into the adrenaline and let loose... But the cowards didn't stay and fight, so Derek has to actually deal with the fact that someone tried to kill them, someone burned down their house around them. Someone wanted him to relive the worst moment of his life and die in pain.
Someone, Stiles promises himself, is going to get dead in a very painful way.
But not right now. First they need to take care of themselves. They need to take care of each other.
"Hey," Stiles says, pressing a kiss against Derek's neck. "You want me to call the pack? You wanna hear their voices? Make sure they're okay?"
Derek is shaking his head no, jerky and hesitant, when his dad's voice interrupts them once again. "I don't think you need to," he says, nodding towards a Toyota coming to a stop at the far edge of the property. Allison opens the driver's door and steps out, wearing one of Scott's jackets over her nightgown. She looks horrified, staring at the house with a hand over her mouth. Scott seems just about ready to wolf out.
Derek lets out a drawn out breath and relaxes slightly.
"Dad," Stiles says. "Can you tell them we're okay? I just need a moment."
His dad gives him a suspicious look but heads towards Allison and Scott anyway.
"Okay," Stiles says, nodding to himself as a new plan takes shape in his mind. He shuffles back a little on his knees and lets Derek go for a moment. The box is still clutched in his left hand, blue velvet wearing thin in places from his restless fingers. He's held onto it long enough.
"Derek," he starts, and then has to clear his throat because he's got smoke and soot and fear and all sorts of other emotions choking him. "I..." He runs his thumb along the rim of the box. "This isn't the best time," he admits. "But I've been waiting for the best time, the perfect time, for months now, and... maybe there is no such thing. I just don't wanna wait anymore, and even more than that, I don't want us to remember today as the day hunters burned down the house. I want-I need it to be about something else."
One of a Kind
Start from the beginning
