Everything happened so fast.
Too fast.
Stiles was driving Cora home from school. He had lacrosse practise and Cora had taken on extra art classes, and since Stiles usually headed to the Hale house to see Derek anyway, it didn't exactly take him out of his way. Besides, despite the initial dislike and mistrust when his relationship with Derek began a few months back, Stiles and Cora had actually formed a good friendship, as much as you could with your boyfriend's sister anyway.
They were laughing and joking when it happened. The accident. Cora was telling him something that Isaac had said and Stiles turned the corner, heading downtown, and then he heard a car honking, the sharp sound pierced through the comfortable stillness outside the car doors.
Stiles' remembered turning and seeing the headlights, bright and overpowering and close, way too close, and he tightened his grip on the wheel, trying to turn and get out of the way, but he wasn't fast enough. The other car, it was too fast.
He heard Cora's scream a second before impact. Before the booming crash, before the scraping of metal against metal, before the squealing of tires, before his head was rocked sideways into his window and everything went dark.
When he woke up, there were lights - red and blue, flashing, blinding in for a second as his blurred vision tried to adjust. Police cars. They were police cars. Everything felt numb, lethargic, but when he lifted his head, stark pain made him wince. A face appeared at the window, a familiar face - his dad, he realised after a few seconds of concentration - and the worried voice told him to sit still.
"Sit still, alright son? We're going to get you both out of there-"
Both.
Get you both out of there.
Cora.
"Cora," Stiles croaked out. "Cora, dad, where's-where is she? Is she?" He tried to turn his head but the ache forced him to stop.
"She's still alive, still breathing. The fire department are getting her out first and then they're getting you, okay?" his father assured.
Later, Stiles would realise that needing the fire department to get you out after a car accident wasn't a good thing. He'd realise that it would mean that Cora was probably trapped, her arm or her leg. It most likely meant serious injury, but all he could think was thank god she was still alive.
And then he passed out again.
*
Stiles had a concussion, according to the doctor, and some whiplash, but he should be fine in a few days.
He wouldn't say how Cora was, no matter how many times Stiles asked.
"We're looking after her." That's all he said, with what was supposed to be a reassuring smile. It didn't. All it did was make his stomach tighten with worry and his head spin with all the possibilities of what could have happened to her. About how the car had hit on her side, how she could have broken her legs or her arms, her back, her neck. How she could be hanging on by a thread and that it was all his fault.
He should have looked where he was going. He should have checked. He should have reacted quicker. He should have something, done anything, to make sure they weren't in this situation.
What must the Hales be thinking right now? They'd already been through so much pain - losing Raleigh Hale to a heart attack last year, the fraud, Peter's fire, and now Cora. God, they must hate him for doing this. He would hate him.
John came to visit him when he got off shift, as Stiles insisted when his father showed up before that. He sat down heavily, concern and pain etched into every crease, still in full police gear.
"How are you feeling?" he asked lowly.
"Achy," Stiles answered honestly, "My head hurts. The doctor's say I'll be fine though."
"Good, good, I'm...I'm glad," John cracked a smile.
"They won't tell me what happened to Cora though," he continued. His hands clenched at his side fearfully and then he looked to his father pleadingly, "Please, just tell me how she is."
John looked like he'd rather do anything but speak about Cora, but he could tell he didn't have a choice. "She's...a lot worse than you. Cora took the brunt of the impact. She's got a broken leg, three cracked ribs, a few cuts and bruises. She had to get stitches for her head wound. Melissa said that she's being kept sedated for today because of the pain, but she's going to be perfectly fine."
Stiles swallowed around the lump in his throat, blinked around the tears in his eyes. At least he knew now. "A-and the Hales? Are they here yet?"
"Talia was visiting Laura in New York, but I called them personally and they're on their way home now. Derek's in there with her now," John told him calmly.
Stiles struggled upwards, limbs shaking and ignoring his light-headedness, "I....I want to see her, I need to...I need to see her!" he snapped when John tried to get him to lay back down.
They shared at each other for a moment, son begging and father uncertain, before John sighed in defeat and nodded reluctantly.
*
Stiles convinced his dad to let him go in alone, although the Sheriff insisted he wait outside. He could awake by himself and he wasn't sure whether he could stand having his father hovering behind him. He stepped into the room, unsteadily. He tensed with anticipation with what he would find, his mind bombarding him with graphic horrors that he hoped to god he would never see anywhere out of a movie.
Cora was the first thing he saw. Her bed was in the centre of the room, the other beds on either side of her empty. Her skin was pale and her eyes were closed and an IV was attached to her arm, but her chest was rising, up and down, and that meant she was still alive. Derek was at her side, hunched over the bed and clutching her hands in his, pressing their combined hands to his lips. His eyes never left hers, although Stiles knew that Derek was aware of his presence.
The silence became too deafening, and Stiles had to speak. "Derek, I..." he swallowed, "I didn't...I didn't see the other car. It was too fast, I...I couldn't stop us in time and god, I'm so sorry."
Derek hadn't looked up. It was as if he wasn't even acknowledging him.
Guilt and insecurity swirled in his stomach and tightened uncomfortably. He took a small step forward, towards Cora's bed.
"Derek," Stiles tried again. No response.
"Derek, talk to me, please," he begged.
"What do you want me to say?" Derek finally spoke, his voice quiet and emotionless and Stiles knew that wasn't a good sign.
"I don't know, anything, something," Stiles persisted.
"My sister's in a hospital bed, Stiles," Derek gritted out, tightening his grip on her hand, "And that's your fault."
Stiles flinched. "I know, I'm sor-"
"Apologising isn't going to change this, Stiles," he snapped. Derek finally looked up at him, his expression tight and his eyes angered and hurt and worried and, what was worse, betrayed. Because Stiles had betrayed Derek, hadn't he? He was in charge of looking after Cora, Derek's baby sister, and he'd failed in the worse way possible.
"I know," Stiles agreed, "But I don't know what else to say."
"Then don't say anything," Derek ordered, "Just...leave Stiles."
Leave. He wanted him to go. In any other situation, Stiles might have done as was requested. He knew that went Derek was concerned or hurt, he lashed out. Derek dealt with things by himself and something like this, when his family was the one in pain, he would be even worse. But it wasn't any other situation. It was this one, and Stiles was still weak from his head injury and the pain medicine he had been given and all he could think is that if he walked out that door, without pleading or anything, then all hope was gone. Derek would be gone.
Stiles look another step forward. "Please, Derek, just-"
"Go!" Derek yelled.
Stiles recoiled.
He didn't remember walking out but he remembered the door shutting firmly behind him, and he remembered his father standing in front of him that troubled expression on his face. He remembered the hug, the one that he clung desperately to for comfort because sometimes it was the kind of comfort that only a parent could give you.
He remembered thinking that there was nothing he would ever be able to do to fix what he had broken.
*
Stiles was released that day and he spent the night curled up in bed, eyes wide open because every time they closed, all he could hear was honking and shrieking and white light blinded him.
Cora woke up the next day. Isaac told him. He and Scott came to visit him, to see how he was. Apparently, he hadn't answered his phone, which had been broken in the crash, and Scott had worried and then Isaac found out about the crash from Laura.
"Talia and Laura got there this morning and Cora was asking about you," Isaac stated, "We had to promise to report back to even get her to agree to sleep."
"Not that we're going right away," Scott interjected quickly.
Stiles smiled weakly. He sat up and crossed his legs. His fingers tapped on his Xbox controller. "Mario Kart?"
*
Stiles won.
Because he's the king of Mario Kart.
No matter what Scott claimed.
*
Stiles spent the day watching Marvel movies and absolutely not hoping Derek would come over. Which he didn't. Which was good, because Stiles didn't want that in the first place. Nope. Not at all.
His dad came back early, and threw a brick at his head.
Stiles yelped, picking up the offending article and waving it. "What is this?"
"Your new phone," John announced, "I got it from evidence. Figured you could use it until we can get you a proper replacement. No doubt you'll want to keep in contact with Derek."
"Right," Stiles forced a smile, "Yeah, that's...that's right. Thank you..."
John eyed his son suspiciously, but didn't say anything as he went about the routine of de-sheriffing (as it was dubbed by Stiles when he was six). Stiles shifted awkwardly. He knew this wasn't over, because his dad never let anything drop. He focused his attention directly on Iron Man and War Machine kicking arse - well, he feigned attention anyway.
When his dad settled down in his usual seat, Stiles' eyes darted between him and the screen. There was a tense silence.
"Do you want to talk about it?" John finally spoke.
"Not really," Stiles stated. He paused, biting his lip. He sighed and closed his eyes, tilting his head back, "Derek hates me."
"He doesn't hate you."
"I got his sister hurt. She's got broken bones and a head injury and I..."
"You were lucky," John stated, "I mean, I know that you've read car accident reports at the station, even when I've told you stay out of it," he gave him a pointed look and Stiles was in the right mind to look sheepish, "Besides, it was an accident. The other driver came out of nowhere, you couldn't have stopped in time. It's a miracle that it wasn't worse for anybody."
Stiles' legs curled closer to his chest and he tilted his head onto his knees. "You didn't see him though. The way he looked at Cora and then at me. And the way he spoke...he blames me, dad and I...I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do."
John looked at him sympathetically. "You'll figure it out son. You always do."
Stiles hoped so.
*
Isaac had been texting him on his dinosaur of a phone to let him know how Cora was doing, and although it was enough to settle his nerves, it wasn't the same as actually seeing her for himself. He walked uncertainly towards the room, distress and trepidation growing with every step. The door was open and he paused hesitantly.
"You're being ridiculous," it was Cora's voice, frustration rising in her speech..
"I'm not having this conversation with you Cora," Derek responded, just as irritated.
"You won't have it with me, you won't have it with Laura, even Mom got blocked out," Cora retorted, "You need to talk to him."
Stiles' heart lurched and tightened in his chest. Him. Who was him? Were they talking about Stiles? He almost hope so because he didn't want it to be anyone else but the way Derek spoke, the stubborn refusal, Stiles wasn't sure whether he wanted to be on the receiving end.
"I don't need to do anything," Derek gritted out.
"It's been four days, Derek. Don't you think he wants to hear from you?"
"Would you listen to me? I don't want to talk to Stiles. He's not my focus right now, you are."
"Are you forgetting that he was in the car too?"
Derek laughed bitterly. "Yeah, in the driver's seat."
Stiles couldn't listen to anymore. He knocked loudly and pointedly on the door, ducking his head slightly because he just couldn't meet Derek's gaze. He watched the way horror crossed Derek's face for a moment before it faded to blank. Right.
"Stiles, you're here," Cora tried to smile, but it came out strained and worried.
He mimicked the same look. "Isaac said you wanted to see me. I...I didn't know that you had company. I can come back later."
"No," she stopped him quickly, "Derek was just leaving."
Derek nodded sharply, accepting the dismissal, and moved stiffly from the room. He slowed as he reached Stiles', and their eyes locked for two breath stopping moments, before Derek continued to leave the room, walking down the hospital corridor. He didn't look back.
Stiles didn't realise that he was shaking until he tried to take a step forward. He ignored the weakness at his knees, the unsteadiness in his steps, and collapsed into the open seat at the bedside.
"How are you?" Cora questioned. Her hands fiddled with the sheets around her legs.
"G-good, I'm good," Stiles coughed, "And shouldn't I be asking you that?"
"I've been fine since I woke up, the doctors just want to be sure," she stated and then rolled her eyes. She stilled and glanced towards him worriedly. "Look, Stiles, about what Derek said, I'm sorry you-"
Stiles shook his head. "Don't. Just...this isn't your fault. Derek...can feel how he wants to. I...I understand," he swallowed and licked his lips, "I'm so sorry Cora, you like this...I should of..."
"No." Cora's voice was firm and sharp, "This is not your fault. It was a crazy accident, okay? The other driver, he's to blame. He was speeding. He wasn't looking where they were going. You and I were just unlucky enough to be in his path. So this room, yeah, it's now a no pity party room. Accept it."
Stiles smiled a little, thankful for her trying to help even if he didn't completely believe it.
"Derek blames me," he muttered lowly.
Cora let out an irked sigh.
"Derek...Derek is a stubborn arsehole that doesn't know how to process his feelings so he lashes out and won't listen to reason. He'll get over himself eventually."
She sounded so sure of it, so certain that Stiles really wanted to believe it.
He really did.
But four days turned into five, and then it was a week, and then it was two weeks and Stiles...he wasn't moping anymore.
He wasn't angry.
No, he was furious.
Where did Derek get off blaming him for what had happened? He didn't even try and talk to him about it - not that Derek talking about his feelings was the norm. If anything, the distance was disgustingly like Derek. It was as if the guy had forgotten that Stiles was in that crash too, that he had been injured and blamed himself just as much and as his boyfriend, and Derek was supposed to be there, even if it was just a little bit.
That's even if they were dating anymore. There had been no official end and Stiles hadn't seen Derek since he had been in Cora's hospital room. As far as Stiles was aware, they were over. The anger was festering and if he didn't get to scream and shout and tell Derek exactly how he feels, he'd never be able to get past this.
His wheels screeched across the gravel when he pulled up to the Hale house. Laura was already at the door, leaning against the frame, arms folded across her chest.
She inclined her head upwards. "He's in his room," she supplied, "Give him hell Stilinski."
"My pleasure," Stiles murmured, and slid past her into the house. Maybe it was the fact that even Laura, Derek's closest family member, was supporting him that gave him the willpower and strength to storm up those stairs and along the familiar hallway to Derek's room, knocking loudly on the door.
It swung open and Derek was staring at him, confused and cautious.
"Stiles, what are you-" he tried to question but Stiles cut him off, pushing his way into the bedroom, muttering an angry, "We need to talk."
They stood standoffish at opposite sides of the room, Derek completely still while Stiles couldn't seem to calm the adrenaline pulsing through his veins.
"Why are you here?" Derek questioned.
"Why am I here?" Stiles repeated in disbelief, "I'm here because my supposed ex-boyfriend is a jackass and he can't get off without knowing that. For god's sake Derek, I know what happened. I know it was bad. I know you had to be there for Cora, I do. That's where I wanted you to be. But it's been weeks and you haven't said a word to me. Why? Because you blame me? I get it okay, I was supposed to be looking after your little sister. You trusted me and I failed. I never wanted that to happen, you have to know that."
"I do know that," Derek said through a locked jaw.
"Then why? Just...explain it to me."
"...I was angry. I was here waiting for you, and you didn't come home when you were supposed there and I panicked, and then I get this call from your dad and he says that you and Cora..." Derek's hands clenched into fists, "...I didn't know how to react."
Stiles' eyes narrowed. "You were worried and angry, so you shut me out of your life and made me think that you hated me."
Derek diverted his gaze and didn't say anything more.
"You're an asshole, do you know that?" Stiles spat out.
"I've heard," he said simply.
"That's it, that's all you're going to say," Stiles continued ludicrously. He raised his hands up in a defeat shrug and ran a hand through his hair, "You're not even sorry."
"Yes I am."
"Then say it."
Derek raised his head so they could lock gazes. Silence fell between them, tense and angered and just tired. Stiles waited impatiently, tapping his foot in agitated beats against the hardwood floor, and Derek continued to stare him down, as if he could somehow get out of it. Stiles twitched his eyebrow upward and the man sighed.
"I'm sorry Stiles, I am," he spoke lowly, sincerity seeping into his voice.
For some reason, Stiles thought maybe that would make everything better. It didn't. It only made the ache and longing in his chest worse. God, why did he have to have feelings for him? Why couldn't there be someone younger and not emotionally constipated? It would be better for Stiles. His dad would approve. But no one else had managed to get under his skin like Derek did and Stiles was afraid that no one ever would.
"I want to hate you," he announced suddenly.
Derek nodded sharply. "You should."
"Then why don't I?"
"You love me."
"But that doesn't mean I'm going to forgive you so quickly. I might never forgive you," Stiles responded.
"I know." Derek dipped his head and rolled his shoulders, "I guess I'm going to have to work to get you back."
"Damn straight," Stiles nodded sharply. He bit down on his bottom lip, "I like curly fries. And hydrangeas. And baseball."
"I remember," Derek smiled slightly.
"No smiling. You've got work to do," Stiles pointed at him.
"Yes sir," Derek dropped the expression and nodded.
"Good, now get started. I'm going to see Cora and then I've got to take dad's car home and cry over the repair bill for the Jeep," Stiles declared, before leaving the room, leaving the room open behind him.
Derek stared after him, even when he'd disappeared from sight, before closing his eyes and shaking his head slightly. Relief had grown and swelled within him and he found himself smiling just as before.
"You're one lucky bastard, you know that right?"
Laura stood in the doorway, smirking at him and shaking her head in disbelief. She stepped in slowly.
"If I were Stiles, and my boyfriend had done that to me," she continued, "I'm not even sure you'd be able to stand right now."
"Stiles is passive aggressive. He wouldn't need to knee me in the groin to get his point across," Derek stated.
"Who said anything about kneeing? I was thinking more castration," Laura corrected.
He grimaced at the thought. "Thanks for that."
"Derek, you acted like an ass when someone you loved got hurt, and he's willing to work through that to be with you. No one else would have given you that chance."
"I know that."
"I guess it just shows how much Stiles loves you," Laura gave a half shrug. "But don't think he'll keep giving them to you. Don't screw this up."
"I'll try," Derek promised.
Laura looked unimpressed. "Don't try Derek, do."
The silence became too deafening, and Stiles had to speak. "Derek, I..." he swallowed, "I didn't...I didn't see the other car. It was too fast, I...I couldn't stop us in time and god, I'm so sorry."
Derek hadn't looked up. It was as if he wasn't even acknowledging him.
Guilt and insecurity swirled in his stomach and tightened uncomfortably. He took a small step forward, towards Cora's bed.
"Derek," Stiles tried again. No response.
"Derek, talk to me, please," he begged.
"What do you want me to say?" Derek finally spoke, his voice quiet and emotionless and Stiles knew that wasn't a good sign.
"I don't know, anything, something," Stiles persisted.
"My sister's in a hospital bed, Stiles," Derek gritted out, tightening his grip on her hand, "And that's your fault."
Stiles flinched. "I know, I'm sor-"
"Apologising isn't going to change this, Stiles," he snapped. Derek finally looked up at him, his expression tight and his eyes angered and hurt and worried and, what was worse, betrayed. Because Stiles had betrayed Derek, hadn't he? He was in charge of looking after Cora, Derek's baby sister, and he'd failed in the worse way possible.
"I know," Stiles agreed, "But I don't know what else to say."
"Then don't say anything," Derek ordered, "Just...leave Stiles."
Leave. He wanted him to go. In any other situation, Stiles might have done as was requested. He knew that went Derek was concerned or hurt, he lashed out. Derek dealt with things by himself and something like this, when his family was the one in pain, he would be even worse. But it wasn't any other situation. It was this one, and Stiles was still weak from his head injury and the pain medicine he had been given and all he could think is that if he walked out that door, without pleading or anything, then all hope was gone. Derek would be gone.
Stiles look another step forward. "Please, Derek, just-"
"Go!" Derek yelled.
Stiles recoiled.
He didn't remember walking out but he remembered the door shutting firmly behind him, and he remembered his father standing in front of him that troubled expression on his face. He remembered the hug, the one that he clung desperately to for comfort because sometimes it was the kind of comfort that only a parent could give you.
He remembered thinking that there was nothing he would ever be able to do to fix what he had broken.
*
Stiles was released that day and he spent the night curled up in bed, eyes wide open because every time they closed, all he could hear was honking and shrieking and white light blinded him.
Cora woke up the next day. Isaac told him. He and Scott came to visit him, to see how he was. Apparently, he hadn't answered his phone, which had been broken in the crash, and Scott had worried and then Isaac found out about the crash from Laura.
"Talia and Laura got there this morning and Cora was asking about you," Isaac stated, "We had to promise to report back to even get her to agree to sleep."
"Not that we're going right away," Scott interjected quickly.
Stiles smiled weakly. He sat up and crossed his legs. His fingers tapped on his Xbox controller. "Mario Kart?"
*
Stiles won.
Because he's the king of Mario Kart.
No matter what Scott claimed.
*
Stiles spent the day watching Marvel movies and absolutely not hoping Derek would come over. Which he didn't. Which was good, because Stiles didn't want that in the first place. Nope. Not at all.
His dad came back early, and threw a brick at his head.
Stiles yelped, picking up the offending article and waving it. "What is this?"
"Your new phone," John announced, "I got it from evidence. Figured you could use it until we can get you a proper replacement. No doubt you'll want to keep in contact with Derek."
"Right," Stiles forced a smile, "Yeah, that's...that's right. Thank you..."
John eyed his son suspiciously, but didn't say anything as he went about the routine of de-sheriffing (as it was dubbed by Stiles when he was six). Stiles shifted awkwardly. He knew this wasn't over, because his dad never let anything drop. He focused his attention directly on Iron Man and War Machine kicking arse - well, he feigned attention anyway.
When his dad settled down in his usual seat, Stiles' eyes darted between him and the screen. There was a tense silence.
"Do you want to talk about it?" John finally spoke.
"Not really," Stiles stated. He paused, biting his lip. He sighed and closed his eyes, tilting his head back, "Derek hates me."
"He doesn't hate you."
"I got his sister hurt. She's got broken bones and a head injury and I..."
"You were lucky," John stated, "I mean, I know that you've read car accident reports at the station, even when I've told you stay out of it," he gave him a pointed look and Stiles was in the right mind to look sheepish, "Besides, it was an accident. The other driver came out of nowhere, you couldn't have stopped in time. It's a miracle that it wasn't worse for anybody."
Stiles' legs curled closer to his chest and he tilted his head onto his knees. "You didn't see him though. The way he looked at Cora and then at me. And the way he spoke...he blames me, dad and I...I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do."
John looked at him sympathetically. "You'll figure it out son. You always do."
Stiles hoped so.
*
Isaac had been texting him on his dinosaur of a phone to let him know how Cora was doing, and although it was enough to settle his nerves, it wasn't the same as actually seeing her for himself. He walked uncertainly towards the room, distress and trepidation growing with every step. The door was open and he paused hesitantly.
"You're being ridiculous," it was Cora's voice, frustration rising in her speech..
"I'm not having this conversation with you Cora," Derek responded, just as irritated.
"You won't have it with me, you won't have it with Laura, even Mom got blocked out," Cora retorted, "You need to talk to him."
Stiles' heart lurched and tightened in his chest. Him. Who was him? Were they talking about Stiles? He almost hope so because he didn't want it to be anyone else but the way Derek spoke, the stubborn refusal, Stiles wasn't sure whether he wanted to be on the receiving end.
"I don't need to do anything," Derek gritted out.
"It's been four days, Derek. Don't you think he wants to hear from you?"
"Would you listen to me? I don't want to talk to Stiles. He's not my focus right now, you are."
"Are you forgetting that he was in the car too?"
Derek laughed bitterly. "Yeah, in the driver's seat."
Stiles couldn't listen to anymore. He knocked loudly and pointedly on the door, ducking his head slightly because he just couldn't meet Derek's gaze. He watched the way horror crossed Derek's face for a moment before it faded to blank. Right.
"Stiles, you're here," Cora tried to smile, but it came out strained and worried.
He mimicked the same look. "Isaac said you wanted to see me. I...I didn't know that you had company. I can come back later."
"No," she stopped him quickly, "Derek was just leaving."
Derek nodded sharply, accepting the dismissal, and moved stiffly from the room. He slowed as he reached Stiles', and their eyes locked for two breath stopping moments, before Derek continued to leave the room, walking down the hospital corridor. He didn't look back.
Stiles didn't realise that he was shaking until he tried to take a step forward. He ignored the weakness at his knees, the unsteadiness in his steps, and collapsed into the open seat at the bedside.
"How are you?" Cora questioned. Her hands fiddled with the sheets around her legs.
"G-good, I'm good," Stiles coughed, "And shouldn't I be asking you that?"
"I've been fine since I woke up, the doctors just want to be sure," she stated and then rolled her eyes. She stilled and glanced towards him worriedly. "Look, Stiles, about what Derek said, I'm sorry you-"
Stiles shook his head. "Don't. Just...this isn't your fault. Derek...can feel how he wants to. I...I understand," he swallowed and licked his lips, "I'm so sorry Cora, you like this...I should of..."
"No." Cora's voice was firm and sharp, "This is not your fault. It was a crazy accident, okay? The other driver, he's to blame. He was speeding. He wasn't looking where they were going. You and I were just unlucky enough to be in his path. So this room, yeah, it's now a no pity party room. Accept it."
Stiles smiled a little, thankful for her trying to help even if he didn't completely believe it.
"Derek blames me," he muttered lowly.
Cora let out an irked sigh. "Derek...Derek is a stubborn arsehole that doesn't know how to process his feelings so he lashes out and won't listen to reason. He'll get over himself eventually."
She sounded so sure of it, so certain that Stiles really wanted to believe it.
He really did.
But four days turned into five, and then it was a week, and then it was two weeks and Stiles...he wasn't moping anymore.
He wasn't angry.
No, he was furious.
Where did Derek get off blaming him for what had happened? He didn't even try and talk to him about it - not that Derek talking about his feelings was the norm. If anything, the distance was disgustingly like Derek. It was as if the guy had forgotten that Stiles was in that crash too, that he had been injured and blamed himself just as much and as his boyfriend, and Derek was supposed to be there, even if it was just a little bit.
That's even if they were dating anymore. There had been no official end and Stiles hadn't seen Derek since he had been in Cora's hospital room. As far as Stiles was aware, they were over. The anger was festering and if he didn't get to scream and shout and tell Derek exactly how he feels, he'd never be able to get past this.
His wheels screeched across the gravel when he pulled up to the Hale house. Laura was already at the door, leaning against the frame, arms folded across her chest.
She inclined her head upwards. "He's in his room," she supplied, "Give him hell Stilinski."
"My pleasure," Stiles murmured, and slid past her into the house. Maybe it was the fact that even Laura, Derek's closest family member, was supporting him that gave him the willpower and strength to storm up those stairs and along the familiar hallway to Derek's room, knocking loudly on the door.
It swung open and Derek was staring at him, confused and cautious.
"Stiles, what are you-" he tried to question but Stiles cut him off, pushing his way into the bedroom, muttering an angry, "We need to talk."
They stood standoffish at opposite sides of the room, Derek completely still while Stiles couldn't seem to calm the adrenaline pulsing through his veins.
"Why are you here?" Derek questioned.
"Why am I here?" Stiles repeated in disbelief, "I'm here because my supposed ex-boyfriend is a jackass and he can't get off without knowing that. For god's sake Derek, I know what happened. I know it was bad. I know you had to be there for Cora, I do. That's where I wanted you to be. But it's been weeks and you haven't said a word to me. Why? Because you blame me? I get it okay, I was supposed to be looking after your little sister. You trusted me and I failed. I never wanted that to happen, you have to know that."
"I do know that," Derek said through a locked jaw.
"Then why? Just...explain it to me."
"...I was angry. I was here waiting for you, and you didn't come home when you were supposed there and I panicked, and then I get this call from your dad and he says that you and Cora..." Derek's hands clenched into fists, "...I didn't know how to react."
Stiles' eyes narrowed. "You were worried and angry, so you shut me out of your life and made me think that you hated me."
Derek diverted his gaze and didn't say anything more.
"You're an asshole, do you know that?" Stiles spat out.
"I've heard," he said simply.
"That's it, that's all you're going to say," Stiles continued ludicrously. He raised his hands up in a defeat shrug and ran a hand through his hair, "You're not even sorry."
"Yes I am."
"Then say it."
Derek raised his head so they could lock gazes. Silence fell between them, tense and angered and just tired. Stiles waited impatiently, tapping his foot in agitated beats against the hardwood floor, and Derek continued to stare him down, as if he could somehow get out of it. Stiles twitched his eyebrow upward and the man sighed.
"I'm sorry Stiles, I am," he spoke lowly, sincerity seeping into his voice.
For some reason, Stiles thought maybe that would make everything better. It didn't. It only made the ache and longing in his chest worse. God, why did he have to have feelings for him? Why couldn't there be someone younger and not emotionally constipated? It would be better for Stiles. His dad would approve. But no one else had managed to get under his skin like Derek did and Stiles was afraid that no one ever would.
"I want to hate you," he announced suddenly.
Derek nodded sharply. "You should."
"Then why don't I?"
"You love me."
"But that doesn't mean I'm going to forgive you so quickly. I might never forgive you," Stiles responded.
"I know." Derek dipped his head and rolled his shoulders, "I guess I'm going to have to work to get you back."
"Damn straight," Stiles nodded sharply. He bit down on his bottom lip, "I like curly fries. And hydrangeas. And baseball."
"I remember," Derek smiled slightly.
"No smiling. You've got work to do," Stiles pointed at him.
"Yes sir," Derek dropped the expression and nodded.
"Good, now get started. I'm going to see Cora and then I've got to take dad's car home and cry over the repair bill for the Jeep," Stiles declared, before leaving the room, leaving the room open behind him.
Derek stared after him, even when he'd disappeared from sight, before closing his eyes and shaking his head slightly. Relief had grown and swelled within him and he found himself smiling just as before.
"You're one lucky bastard, you know that right?"
Laura stood in the doorway, smirking at him and shaking her head in disbelief. She stepped in slowly.
"If I were Stiles, and my boyfriend had done that to me," she continued, "I'm not even sure you'd be able to stand right now."
"Stiles is passive aggressive. He wouldn't need to knee me in the groin to get his point across," Derek stated.
"Who said anything about kneeing? I was thinking more castration," Laura corrected.
He grimaced at the thought. "Thanks for that."
"Derek, you acted like an ass when someone you loved got hurt, and he's willing to work through that to be with you. No one else would have given you that chance."
"I know that."
"I guess it just shows how much Stiles loves you," Laura gave a half shrug. "But don't think he'll keep giving them to you. Don't screw this up."
"I'll try," Derek promised.
Laura looked unimpressed. "Don't try Derek, do."