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The thing about werewolf hearing is that it’s good. Like, seriously good. And it’s not like Derek’s ever known any differently than being able to hear almost every little thing, so he doesn’t usually think anything of it when he has to ask Stiles to turn down the music he’s listening to through earphones so he can concentrate.
Derek has no idea how or when it happened, but at some point Stiles had decided that Derek’s house was the perfect place to study seeing as it was usually empty during the day and stocked with food that Stiles didn’t have to pay for. (“Broke college student, Derek,” Stiles had said when Derek had first noticed his cupboards suspiciously empty. “If you don’t feed me it’s very likely I’ll starve.”)
Derek knew by now exactly how pointless trying to get Stiles to leave would be when he’d made his decision to be there, so he’d never objected too seriously. That may also have something to do with the fact that Derek finds he enjoys coming home from work to someone, not just an empty house. Derek’s more than happy for that someone to be Stiles since they put aside their differences and became actual would-give-up-my-star-wars-DVDs-for-you friends. He’ll never admit it, but maybe he enjoys Stiles’ company most and almost misses him when he’s not there.
The fact that somewhere along the way of mutual life saving, house rebuilding, pack bonding and study dates that are very purposefully never referred to as dates even in the privacy of Derek’s mind, that friendship somehow managed to develop into what he might, if he was a twelve year old girl, be forced to call a crush on Stiles without him noticing, has nothing to do with it. And even if it did, Derek will never admit to it never mind actually pursue it. It’s not like crushes even matter in the grand scheme of Derek’s luck with dating.)
All of that means that it’s a pretty common occurrence for Derek to come home and be able to hear the slightly muffled music coming from wherever Stiles is in the house. Derek doesn’t understand it, really--he usually prefers to work in silence--but Stiles has a thing about music helping him concentrate, so Derek has come to associate tinny sounding pop music with Stiles sprawled across his couch, engrossed in whatever assignment he’s working on.
This time, however, the music is louder than usual, and obscured not just from the earbuds but also Stiles’ intermittent humming and the sound of socked feet on his hardwood floor.
Derek makes his way into his house and isn’t entirely sure how he feels about what he sees.
Derek has seen Stiles dance before; at jungle, at his Dad’s wedding--even, on one very memorable occasion, in the middle of the cereal aisle--but in the years they’ve known each other, Derek doesn’t think he’s ever seen Stiles dance with this much abandon.
He stands in the hallway for a few minutes, taking it in, before Stiles dances his way to face him, barely reacting at all to the sudden appearance of a werewolf in the room.
Derek thinks back to when he’d been a kid, getting caught singing at the top of his lungs by Laura who had laughed until she’d cried while he stuttered and blushed himself into a world of embarrassment. He thinks that’s how most people react in these situations.
Of course, this is Stiles, and when has he ever reacted the way most people would.
Stiles doesn’t blush, doesn’t start stuttering explanations, doesn’t even miss a beat of the music. Instead, he shimmies his way over to Derek, does what Derek can only describe as jazz hands until he’s snuck his hands under Derek’s coat and is sliding it off, throwing it over the coat rack when he’s done.
He moonwalks a few steps back into the living room, grinning all the while, and beckons Derek over to him.
Derek shakes his head slightly. It hits him, suddenly, how much Stiles has changed him. A year ago, Derek wouldn’t have even entertained the idea of joining in, he most likely would have threatened something involving throats and teeth and told Stiles to get the hell out of his loft.
(The fact that Stiles’ insistence that it wasn’t healthy for Derek to carry on living in a loft full of nothing but bad memories because he deserved better had ended with the pack rebuilding the old Hale house instead of Derek making a run for it at the first sign of someone caring about him probably should have been the first hint that things were changing. Derek’s never claimed to be observant where his own well being is involved, though.)
Now, he shakes himself out of his thoughts and lets out a quick laugh, toes off his shoes, and shakes his hips as he makes his way to Stiles. They dance around each other for a few minutes, Stiles giggling and Derek trying not to grin like an idiot. He feels...lighter, somehow.
At some point Derek’s hands find their way to Stiles’ waist and before he knows it, he’s crowding him against the back of the couch, pinning him there while Stiles catches his breath while trying to keep humming along to the music.
He doesn’t know what acts as the final straw. Maybe it’s the look in Stiles eyes, or the way his fists are clenched in the back of Derek’s shirt like he never wants to let him go, but Derek can’t resist leaning in and kissing him. He takes a second to consider what a huge mistake he could be making, but then Stiles is kissing him back and every other thought leaves his head to make room for the memory of this.
By the time Derek’s done Stiles’ earbuds are hanging from his collar and neither of them are even thinking about the music anymore.
“What was that for?” Stiles asks, dazed. “Not that I’m complaining. Or saying we should stop, like ever. You know what, new house rule, your mouth should always be touching my mouth. If we're not eating or talking we should definitely be kissing. On second thought, who needs to speak in this day and age? I can just text you instead, that'll leave my mouth free for kisses like 90% of the time--I can multitask with the best of them, ask anyone--and really, how important is food when making out is on the line? Why are you making your how is this my life face?”
Derek shakes his head, says, “I just, I can’t believe she was right.”
Stiles gives him a puzzled look, so Derek rests his forehead against Stiles’ briefly before trying to explain.
“Laura,” Derek says softly. “I never believed her, but she was always telling me that one day I’d find someone who would bring me out of my shell without even meaning to. I told her there wasn’t a person in the world that could make me...that. Better. Trust you to help her prove me wrong from beyond the grave.”
“Derek,” Stiles says.
“She would have loved you,” Derek replies. “I can’t even imagine the trouble you two would have got up to if you’d met, but I know she would have loved you.”
“I’m sure I would have loved her too,” Stiles says.
“I miss her all the time,” Derek admits. “I miss all of them all the time.”
“I know you do,” Stiles says. “You don’t have to talk about this you know.”
“But you make me feel like I can,” Derek stresses. “And that’s… For the first time since they-- For the first time in years, I feel like I could talk about them and be happy. I’m always going to miss them, but... You make it so I can remember the happy things. I don’t...”
“C’mon,” Stiles says as Derek struggles to find the right words. “Dance with me.”
They have all the time in the world, Derek realises, to find the words to say whatever they need to. He’s never been the best with words when they have to mean something, he supposes, but with Stiles, it all seems possible--that one day he’ll be able to talk about how Laura loved to bake, how his dad had received squirrel related gifts from his mom for almost ten years because of a misunderstanding in their early days of dating, how his cousin Leila had insisted that when she grew up she didn’t want to be anything except a penguin. A thousand memories are on the top of his tongue, and for the first time in years they don’t taste like ash.
He’ll tell them all one day--they’ll become the stories he tells his kids, his nieces and nephews, and eventually his grandkids, instead of staying memories that would have died with him.
But for now, they dance.
(The first dance at their wedding is a mess of shimmying, jazz hands, and a brief interlude where they compete to see who can master the worm in a tux fastest.
“I don’t know how this happened,” the Sheriff tipsily wonders aloud. “I already had one ridiculous dancer for a son, how did I end up with two?”
Cora, who’s sitting next to him in a similar state of not quite drunk but definitely not sober, clumsily pats his shoulder and mutters something about not thinking it was possible for her brother’s lack of dancing skills to exist in another human being without some kind of curse being involved, which leaves the Sheriff nodding very seriously and Stiles cackling.
Derek looks around at his pack, almost all of who have drunk enough wolfsbane infused alcohol by now to make joining in with the dance off seem like a good idea, and thinks about how he’d ended up with more than just one person who could bring him out of his shell. Derek sees Laura’s face in his mind, smug and proud in equal measure, and he knows that he’s where he needs to be.)