Plan

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When Stiles pulled up to the old familiar blue house, Derek noticed his heart rate pick up. He gave his hand, which was already holding, a gentle squeeze.

Stiles looked at Derek with sad eyes. "I just want to say that I'm sorry. These next few days aren't going to be easy for you, but no matter what, please just know that I love you and I know you're not a monster."

Derek's lips curled into a soft smile. "That's all I could ever want."

"You mentioned winning my brothers over with peace," Stiles turned his attention back to the house.

"Yeah?"

"If it's peace you desire, prepare for war," with that Stiles pulled his hand from Derek's.

Derek would never tell Stiles how terrified he was to be at Bobby's. He was fairly certain Sam would be understanding but Dean, well Derek wasn't sure Dean would ever come around. He wasn't afraid of dying; he was afraid of Stiles getting hurt. If they had to part ways and never see each other again, it would devastate them both, but Stiles would likely be put at odds with Dean. He never wanted to come between Stiles and his brothers.

The door to the front of the house opened to reveal, Sam.

"Stiles," Sam gripped his brother in a tight hug.

"Hey, Sam," Stiles melted into his older brother's embrace. It felt nice being back with them despite the fear he felt bringing Derek with him.

"You boys made good time," Bobby pulled Stiles in next.

"We were only a state over," Stiles explained. When he pulled back Sam was shaking Derek's hand. At least he was being civil.

"Where's Dean and Cas?" Stiles frowned. He'd half expected to see Dean first.

"I thought that was you pulling in," Dean spoke up then, coming around the corner of the house with Cas in tow. He was wiping his hands on an old rag. He must have been working on a car. It was something Dean did when he was bored or stressed. It was therapeutic for him.

"Glad to have you back," Dean gripped his younger brother tighter than necessary. He pointedly ignored Derek.

"Stiles, Derek," Cas smiled at the pair but made move to hug either one.

"Hey, Cas," Stiles gave a warm smile as did Derek, but the werewolf remained silent. He was afraid if he spoke Dean would say something and he hoped to avoid this war Stiles mentioned, for as long as possible.

"Well come on inside. Stiles, you show Derek to the spare room and I'll get out a bottle of scotch," Bobby ushered everyone inside.

Stiles lead Derek up the stairs and to a small room at the end of the hall. "My room is right here," He pointed to the door on the left just before the spare.

"You okay?" Derek asked, setting his duffle bag on the bed.

"Why ask? You can smell it on me," Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Stiles," Derek sighed.

"Sorry, I'm just on edge."

"Are you going to be on edge the entire time we're here?" Derek asked taking a step towards Stiles.

Stiles dropped his chin to his chest, "No. I'm just waiting for the inevitable argument between Dean and I and I'm not looking forward to it."

Derek went to reach for Stiles but stopped.

Stiles saw the hesitation and stepped forward burying himself into Derek's chest, "I don't want you to be afraid to touch me."

Derek wrapped his arms around the hunter and pressed his lips to Stiles' hair, "I know, but it's best they don't know about us. Dean thinks you still hate me and it's best we let him think that."

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