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Stiles makes Eli up a room behind the magic shop. So even when he’s not with Derek, he’ll always have somewhere to stay.
He’s usually with Derek, though. And of course Stiles understands it.
He’s the one who begged him not to leave.
Derek’s dating someone, maybe. Stiles thinks so.
He thinks Lydia set it up. Or maybe it was Cora.
Or someone else who hates him.
But it’s, yeah, it’s fine. It’s not like they’re together, it’s not a betrayal.
And Derek deserves to be happy. He’s had a hard enough time.
That’s why Stiles couldn’t do it anymore.
Magic always has a price. A darkness. Doesn’t Stiles know better than anyone? But it’s worth it.
It’s worth it, to keep them protected. Derek, and Eli. The pack, and his dad.
They can’t go back to how it was. They can’t fucking go back to that. To constantly, barely making it out with their lives.
But he knows it weighed on him. Derek. Seeing him like that.
So clearly fucking remembering how he used to be.
It’s just easier. When they don’t have to see each other so much, when Stiles can work from the sidelines. Or sleep it off, fight off the flood of bad feelings. Wanting to slam his own head through the wall.
He ruined his own perfect life.
Yeah, but it’s not in a vacuum, and outside of it, people bleed, and die. Derek, he’d be coming home all bloody again. Clothes shredded, dead-eyed.
Half-wishing he hadn’t survived it, sometimes.
So, no. There are charms, and wards, and it’s Stiles’ breaths woven into them, Stiles’ breaths keeping evil out. Just a little bit, and Eli doesn’t have to grow up suffering.
And Derek can’t know how it works. Because he’d make Stiles stop. He’d stare at him, Stiles, are you crazy? Take it back, right now! How long have I been hurting you?
He wouldn’t understand, this is better. This is so much fucking better than how it used to be.
It’s just too hard to breathe around him.
Eli’s room is a shortcut. So he doesn’t need two of everything, or to bring everything over every time. Two doors, and one leads into the magic shop. And one leads out into the Hale house.
So he can always reach them, any time.
He’s with Derek, mostly. But—If something goes wrong with the wards, Stiles needs to know.
And the proximity almost makes it easier.
The magic, anyway.
Eli finds him passed out, one time. Goes scrambling, rushing Derek back out with him, Dad!
Derek going pale, dropping by him. “Stiles? Stiles!”
But he’s fine, he’s fine. In like a minute, he would’ve been.
It’s just impossible to breathe, with Derek cradling him like that.
Looking at him like that, like nothing’s different at all.
And he says, “I’m staying with you. This isn’t a discussion, have you been eating?”
It’s too much to swallow. It’s too hard to breathe.
“Stiles,” Derek says. “Answer me.”
“You’re scaring Eli,” Stiles says, because Eli is staring at both of them, and Derek says, “I’m not the one who’s scaring him.”
Putting his arm around Eli, too, and Stiles feels sick.
“The magic’s too powerful,” he lies. “It’ll hurt you.”
And Derek says, “I don’t care. I’m staying.”
Stiles can’t make him leave. And it gets worse, when Derek touches his shoulder.
When his hand stills, and he says, “You should’ve told me it was this serious.”
“Yeah?” Stiles says. “How was that gonna go?”
No more magic for you, if it’s gonna sting like that!
And Derek says, “Stiles. It’s burning you.”
Yeah. Maybe sometimes.
But not knowing would be worse. Not knowing, when anything could be happening to them.
This way, he can feel it. Feel if anything goes wrong.
Treat their wounds more immediately. Or share them, if he can’t.
Turn it instantly half as bad, give them more time to survive.
So sometimes he just can’t breathe, for a while. But he used to have that before.
At least now, it’s good for something.
Derek gets Eli back to sleep eventually. Comes back to Stiles, still huddled on the floor.
He’s fine. He’s just, he’s comfortable. It’s a nice… A nice rug.
Derek’s gift, finding a texture that wasn’t horrifying. When every carpet known to man is some kind of torture implement.
“I don’t want you doing this anymore.”
“Yeah, well, tough titties,” Stiles says. It sounds a little weird in his too-tired mouth.
Derek says, “You’re not a fucking sacrifice.”
Like he’s reading out of the weirdest therapy book of all time. The monster book of monster fuckers.
By Dr. Sigmund Freud.
Derek snorts, a little. And it’s so weird hearing him laugh, Stiles takes a too-sharp breath in reply.
“Stiles,” Derek says. And the laugh is gone, gone.
“You have to be here,” Stiles says. “You have to protect Eli.”
“No one’s gonna hurt Eli,” Derek says, and Stiles says, “Are you kidding? Do you remember how it was before?”
How easily Derek almost died, constantly. And Stiles’ dad, and Scott.
It’s worth it. Fucking bleeding out, it’s worth it.
Every bit of chest tightness.
Every breath catching in his throat.
It would be just as bad, running from something. Or running to something, or waiting in the hospital.
Losing his mind, trying to keep them safe. And failing.
And Derek says, “That’s not your job anymore.”
He says, “You’re not the one who’s gonna power it. Use me.”
No. No.
“You think I don’t remember what it was like?” Derek says. “You’d still be doing me a favor.”
But Derek has to be there, for Eli. He can’t hide away.
And Derek says, “You think he wants you hiding?”
He makes Stiles have dinner. Which isn’t the same as making Stiles dinner, but Derek says, “You don’t wanna suffer through my cooking too.”
No. It was good, Stiles remembers.
“I don’t think reheating things counts,” Derek says, but it does. It does.
It used to feel like home, before.
“Then come back,” Derek says. “Stop living for your job. It doesn’t need you.”
Like that’s even what’s been… Like Stiles has an overbearing boss, or something.
“Eli misses you,” Derek says, and Stiles covers his eyes.
“I told him he can always come here.”
“To find you passed out?” Derek says, and Stiles says, “That was one time.”
It was this time. But it already feels so bad.
“I don’t wanna scare him.”
“Then don’t,” Derek says. “Come home. And stop—taking on so much. If this is what it costs? Stiles.”
It hurts so bad. Hearing his voice like this, seeing his face.
Feeling how sharp the tension in his chest is.
“I don’t want you to feel that,” Derek says. “You shouldn’t be able to feel that. How are you…”
Sharing. They’re just sharing.
So one of them can survive it.
“Well stop!” Derek says. His eyes are too wide, now. “That’s not… Stiles.”
He keeps saying his name like that.
Making it worse, on both of them.
And now he’s trying to stop it. Take slower breaths, calm down.
But there’s a spike in his chest.
“I’m what’s killing you?” Derek says. “I’m the reason?”
Getting worse, now, spearing into him. And Stiles can’t…
“See?” he says. “It’s so much worse when I’m around.”
Something awful on Derek’s face, then. “That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?”
“I haven’t been avoiding,” Stiles says, and Derek says, “Don’t lie.”
But he had to. He had to, it was making Derek sick.
Killing both of them.
“I want you to come home,” Derek says. And then, “Does it even matter what I want?”
Of course. It’s just too hard.
Knowing how much he’s hurting him.
“Then don’t,” Derek says. “Don’t hurt me. You don’t know how bad this has been for me, Stiles.”
But he does.
“Then why…” Derek says, and it’s impossible to explain. “Do you wanna leave me?”
The spike is on fire, now. Stiles says, “You’d be happier without me.”
And the spike turns to stone.
“Something is really wrong with you,” Derek says. “Really.”
Yeah. Maybe.
“You can feel what I’m feeling?” Derek says. “And you still don’t know? When was I happier, Stiles, explain it to me.”
No. That’s not… But he could be.
“I think you should come home,” Derek says. “Right now. And undo whatever’s doing this to you.”
Yeah, funny story.
Stiles takes a sharp breath.
“You can’t reverse it?” Derek says, and Stiles shakes his head.
The darkness is already all around him.
Maybe it always was. But now it’s worse, it’s contagious.
Burning out the light in everything. Derek, Eli...
“You’re not gonna get rid of me,” Derek says. “I don’t care how dark it is, I don’t care. And it makes me insane that you think that this is protecting us.”
The catch is back in his breath again.
“Eli needs you healthy,” Stiles says. And Derek scoffs.
“Eli needs his family,” he says. “That’s what he needs. He needs his dad to not disappear on some stupid, suicidal mission of his. Trying to make us happier.”
But Stiles can feel it. He can feel it.
How bad it feels to be around him, even now.
“It’s not gonna be like that,” Derek says. “You’re gonna come home, and it’s not gonna feel this bad anymore. Because this? This is what it feels like with you gone.”
When he’s right the fuck here, being yelled at. Derek takes a deep breath.
Says, “It’ll be better. From now on.” His head dropping, a little. “Stiles, please.”
It’s so much worse when he stops yelling.
When he crumples into himself. When he’s just trembling.
When Stiles is the one…
But it’s too much, just watching it. And not stopping it, pulling him close.
Derek shuddering against him. Shuddering, when Stiles kisses his shoulder.
When Stiles kisses him. And again, and again.
Touches his face.
“Don’t leave again,” Derek says. “Please, just tell me. Just tell me what’s wrong.”
And Stiles nods.
Kisses him again, and Derek draws him closer.
He does make him breakfast. Eggs, he can make eggs.
But Stiles is too quiet, in the morning.
“You’re pushing me away again,” Derek says, and Stiles says, “No, I’m not.”
There’s something in his head. Something, this darkness. He was never this quiet before.
Derek reaches for him, takes pain. And it is still burning him.
“All the time?” he says. “This is just how you feel now?”
It’s not, it can’t be. But Stiles barely shrugs.
Says, “Everything costs something.”
Well, Derek can take it. Take the pain away, as long as he’s breathing.
Stiles shuddering against him, closing his eyes.
It’s been too long since Derek held him. It’s been too long since last night.
Since this morning, even.
“You’re gonna come home,” Derek says, and Stiles shudders again. “You’re gonna come back home, and it’s gonna be better. Eli’s gonna be—”
“Stop,” Stiles says. “Stop, stop.”
It’s too much, maybe. Or Derek’s moving too fast.
Stiles says, “I know he hates me for leaving.”
“What?” Derek says. This… Stiles. “He doesn’t hate you.”
“For breaking up our family? Making you miserable.” Stiles shrugs, scoffs. “Yeah, why would he?”
“No,” Derek says. “He knows what you’ve been going through.”
He knows there’s something. He knows Stiles wouldn’t just leave.
He’d die before he’d leave him.
“Yeah,” Stiles says, and Derek swallows, and swallows.
“So don’t, then. Come back.”
“I did die,” Stiles says, and something catches in Derek’s throat. “In the water, remember? At Deaton’s.”
Derek breathing, and breathing. “But he brought you back.”
“Not all of me,” Stiles says, and Derek says, “You are all of you.”
“I don’t feel like it,” Stiles says. “I feel, like… Like I’m fucking hollow.”
But that’s, that’s not… That’s the darkness. Or depression, maybe.
“Or depression,” Stiles says, and shakes his head. “Our lives are funny, huh.”
Where it could be a curse, something Stiles would be familiar with. Or… something more chemical.
“Chemical imbalance,” Stiles says. “‘You thought that was a curse? You just needed more Prozac!’”
Maybe. “Have you talked to a doctor?”
Stiles scoffing, scrubbing at his eyes.
Like that’s the most surreal thing Derek could’ve asked him.
“‘Yeah, I have this thing, ever since my soul died—’”
Derek laughing, a little. “You don’t have to say it like that.”
“‘I think it came back when I started doing magic more regularly, but I don’t know…’”
“There must be therapists who know about these things.”
“About magic?” Stiles says, and Derek shrugs.
“Or you could explain it.”
“Yeah, love a good 5150. A little, do we still have insane asylums?”
Derek rolls his eyes.
“Maybe they’ll bring ‘em back, just for me,” Stiles says.
But it’s better already. Derek can feel it.
When they’re both breathing, when it’s out in the open.
“Cured,” Stiles says, and Derek rolls his eyes. “It’s a miracle.”
“It’s a good start,” Derek says.
He’ll find somebody. Deaton, or… Lydia, she’s smart.
“Yeah,” Stiles says. Suddenly quiet again. “You two are close now, huh?”
Derek raises an eyebrow.
“I heard you got set up.”
“With Lydia?” Stiles is ridiculous.
“Or by her, I don’t know.” Looking at him, and away, suddenly. “Not that, like… I’m the one who took off on you.”
Something tight in Derek’s chest again. “We settled all of that.”
“Maybe,” Stiles says, and Derek breathes in, sharp. “How’d it go?”
“I think you’d know if I was suddenly happier.”
Something dark on Stiles’ face. “Unless, like… You would be.” Looking down, and down again. “If I wasn’t, like, haunting you.”
He’s burning. Derek slows his breaths, and drags pain.
“You’re the one that I want,” he says. “You’re my family. And Eli’s.”
He is. And this isn’t gonna be a fight anymore.
Derek’s just staying.
“Yeah, but what if…” Stiles says, and Derek says, “I don’t care.”
Kisses him again. Until the fire starts fading.
Until it flares up another way.
“Your face doesn’t know how to not be attractive,” Stiles says. “It’s sickening.”
Derek laughing, shaking his head. “What?”
Stiles reaching up, tracing his eye. “Derek Hale has laugh lines.”
Derek Hale. Derek shakes his head again.
“And I’m gonna get more,” he says. “Thanks to you.”
Stiles’ breath catching, but it’s different, this time. Different tears in his eyes.
“I hate myself so much,” he says. “Past me. For leaving.”
And Derek says, “I could never hate you.”
He’s never been smooth before. He still isn’t.
It’s just how Stiles reacts to it that changes things.
Like it means so much, when it’s obvious. When it should’ve never been a question.
Wouldn’t have been, if Derek was clearer about it.
“You’re not gonna start beating yourself up,” Stiles says. “That’s not, no.”
Tracing his jaw, now.
Too much in Derek’s throat, he should’ve said it. He should’ve… He knew what was wrong.
He should’ve known.
“Nope, no,” Stiles says. “Supernatural mind reader.”
He’s not. But it’s still… It should’ve been obvious.
He knows Stiles.
Knows what he takes on, constantly. In his head, alone.
Even without the magic’s pull on him.
“We’re so good at guilt tripping ourselves,” Stiles says, and Derek laughs. “So talented.”
Yeah. There’s a lot in common.
“Family therapy,” Stiles says. “That’s… Maybe that’s something.”
Maybe. With Eli, too.
At least sometimes.
“Hate that I hurt Eli,” Stiles says, and Derek says, “You didn’t hurt him.”
It’s not, it’s gonna be better. From now on.
“Under the rug,” Stiles says. “Off of us, and under it.”
Derek looking at him, and Stiles says, “I really do love this rug, actually.”
It smells like Stiles. Like Stiles, laying on it. And like Eli, when he was smaller.
“He used to fit in my lap,” Stiles says. “Isn’t that crazy?”
And no, it’s not. It feels like yesterday.
And Stiles says, “Yeah.”
He moves some things back immediately. His pillow, his textured blanket.
Back on their bed, where they belong.
His fern, too, back in the window. Two books on the nightstand, bookmarking each other.
“There’s a method,” Stiles says. “Really.”
It’s brighter, with Stiles around. It’s warmer, it smells better.
Stiles laughing. “Only to your nose.”
And Derek kisses him again. Dips him against the bed, gets his scent on the sheets.
Stiles’ eyes on him. “You really are happy.”
It’s just the beginning. And he still wants him, when it’s harder.
“When it’s harder,” Stiles says, and Derek laughs.
“Of course you took it that way.”
“I am severely in love with you,” Stiles says, and Derek beams. “Oh my god. I’m overdosing.”
It’s gonna be good. Even when it’s hard, it is.
Stiles says, “You know, the magic shop’s soundproof.”
“Is it really,” Derek says, and Stiles says, “And so close by, too.”
And yeah. They have the time.