1lostone | Nowhere Man 11/11 (Derek/Stiles) | Teen Wolf

Title: Nowhere Man
Fandom: Teen Wolf (Still regretting NOTHING!)
Words: 68,400 words. (This can be read as complete, although I do have a small epilogue planned.)
Summary: When Stiles leaves Beacon Hills, he does it without a backwards glance. For two years he is happy on the other side of the country- until someone targets not only him, but his daughter.Unfortunately, the asshole bodyguard his dad hired to make sure he gets back home is none other than Derek Hale. And that's really not very good for either of them.
Warnings: Attempt at plot! Angst! Descriptions of panic attacks! alpha/omega dynamics(made up to fit this story. They're not the "typical" dynamics you find in fic)! Creepy stalker behavior! A metric fuckton of more angst! Boys being stupid! (mostly) Off-screen mpreg and ... kid!fic!

Anyway, this is dedicated to mah bb,

jlm121 because I love her. And she made me watch Teen Wolf, so.

Read on Ao3 || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7
|| Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11

Stiles faceplanted onto the couch with a muffled groan. Every single muscle in his body seemed to twinge and throb. The side of his face hurt. His back hurt from where Derek had tackled him. He had bitten his tongue at some point, and it throbbed like a bitch.

“Yeah, I don’t think so. Shoes off the couch. Just because we’re not home doesn’t mean that you get to be a slob.”

Stiles managed a what, really? look out of one eye before rolling it and flopping his sneakers off with one toe, then the other. They fell on the carpet with a thunk. He heard his dad twist the top off the beer bottle and the little clink of the top hitting the side table before sighing low, like he hadn’t slept in days.

Stiles figured that he probably hadn’t. His dad was kind of a worrier like that.

“Okay so. I’m guessing that you aren’t quite ready for the emotional upheaval of calmly discussing everything like the two rational adults that we are, so I had Chris bring booze. And pizza.”

Stiles opened one eye. His stomach gave an interested rumble. He slowly took stock of his body, trying to decide whether or not he really had the energy to eat right now. He turned his head to see where Zoe still slept in her little nest of sleeping bags and blankets, exhausted by the last few days and stared for a minute, trying to keep himself from curling up beside her. Finally he huffed out an irate breath and heaved himself off the couch to go pull her onto his lap so that he could stroke her slightly damp hair. He wasn’t quite ready to face not having her close. It was like he felt after finding the note in her stroller, only magnified by about three hundred bajillion. Give or take.

The ride back to Beacon Hills, aside from the almost tangible awkwardness, was a complete blur. Stiles hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that somehow Morel was still watching him at his dad’s house, so when Allison had offered him, his dad, and Zoe the safe “house,” Stiles had agreed. Zoe had fallen asleep pretty quickly. They hadn’t had a carseat so Stiles had held her in the center seat with his dad crammed up against him on one side and Isaac on the other. Zoe had rubbed his face a few times with her tiny pug nose, licking at his throat once with a tiny, satisfied sound that had she been an actual wolf pup, Stiles would have called a yip. She had babbled on for awhile before falling asleep practically mid-syllable. Stiles had looked up from where he’d been touching her head, her face, her arms, before just resting his hand on her back to feel her heartbeat to meet Derek’s gaze in the rear-view mirror only once. Stiles had jolted as though he’d been slapped. The movement was so abrupt that Zoe had made an unhappy sound in her sleep.

But when Stiles looked back up, Derek’s gaze was purposefully on the road.

To say that they had unfinished business was rather an understatement. Still, when Derek had herded the rest of his pack along after they had dropped Stiles, his dad, and Zoe off at the safehouse, he had driven off with his jaw clenched in a way that Stiles recognized as his ‘everyone fuck off- I’m feeling feelings and don’t know what they mean’ sort of way.

Not even remembering the way everyone had insisted that Scott and his disgusting stink ride in the back of Boyd’s truck had done anything to alleviate the tense mood. Between the dead... whatever it had been and the heat of the afternoon, Scott had reminded Stiles a little of Pigpen from the Peanuts cartoons.

Stiles would have done anything to not have to ride all the way home trapped as he was in a car with Derek and his dad and a fuckload of unfinished business. Still, he supposed that he was lucky that Derek wasn’t here. Stiles sighed, pressing his back sharply against the wall. “I could eat.”

His dad grunted and went into the kitchen. Soon the pizza smells had Stiles making a face, his stomach not sure if he was hungry or nauseous. The first burst of greasy cheese and sausage convinced him, and before he knew it, Stiles was chomping away, careful not to drip food onto his sleeping daughter.

“Sooo.” His dad drew out the syllable in the way that still made Stiles cringe. “You’ve had a busy few days. I’m not going to push.... much. I’m not going to push much. But you will answer...” He trailed off, thinking. “Three questions for me.”

Stiles blinked, nodding.   “That’s fair.” It came out garbled from the huge bite of food that pooched out his cheeks, chipmunk-style. Really, Stiles felt like he was getting off pretty lightly. Three questions in the Stilinski handbook of parenting were practically nothing. the first time that Stiles had come home reeking of weed it had been much worse. Well mostly because his dad had filmed his answers to the ten questions, but still. Stiles pulled his gaze back to his dad from where it had creeped down to the calm, even breathing of Zoe’s chest without him quite realizing it.

Stiles’ dad tipped back the beer, taking a long sip. For a second Stiles had a minute of nervousness. They had kept to the often painful honesty policy after Stiles had gotten himself almost killed for the god-knows-how-manyth time. Usually the level of his dad’s pissed-offness could be discerned by the number of questions. Stiles looked down at his lap, knowing that he would answer his dad honestly, no matter how much he might want to dissemble or squirm away from the no-doubt uncomfortable questions his dad needed to ask.

“Okay... so first question.” His dad carefully didn’t meet Stiles’ eyes. “Actually, it’s not so much of a question as a general knowledge statement.”

Stiles moaned a little, licking at the pepperoni grease that dribbled down the back of his hand, only realizing that his dad was waiting for a response when he met Stiles’ gaze squarely, with a tick of a raised eyebrow.

“Ah. The Don’t Bullshit Me Kid Face #25. Been awhile.”

His dad snorted. Stiles chanced a small smirk.

“Cute. Okay, so I called that doctor lady that helped you after... Holy fucking shit, Stiles.” Stiles froze, his eyes wide. “Do you realize that you’ve been almost killed numerous times since you came back? Back with that car almost ran you down? At the grocery store? Fucking kidnapped off my own goddamn lawn?! You were in a car wreck, found out that the same fuckhead who killed my wife had been slipping you shit so that he could... God, I don’t think I can even say it. Then you’re hit in the head- which let’s face it! That’s clearly the best place for you to be hit since you don’t seem to ever fucking think about the danger in which you put yourself and then willingly go in with a complete and utter psychopath?” His dad bit his lips, forcing himself to stop speaking, eyes flicking guiltily at Zoe before squeezing them shut. The fingers around the beer bottle relaxed from their chokehold, and Stiles watched as his dad blinked away tears, tipping back his head again to drain the bottle.

They were quiet for a few minutes, neither quite meeting the other’s gaze until his dad heaved a huge sigh, clearing his throat again. “Okay so. Second question.” They both ignored the wobbly way his vocal cords sounded. “Do I need to punch Derek for you?”

Stiles winced. He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Uh. No. We didn’t... I.” He coughed. “Er. Derek was actually really good.” Stiles felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. His dad made a face that looked like Stiles had just broken his brain. “Uh! I mean... nice He was.. fine! About... me basically jumping him. He even... apologized.”

“Well, that was big of him.”

Stiles shoved a huge bite of pizza in his mouth. His dad visibly steeled himself to meet Stiles’ eyes. He chewed, and swallowed so that he could speak. “Um. I’m not... excusing what he did. But they had some good reasons for... wow. I can’t believe I just said that.” Holy shit. “Did you know that there was a contract out on you? On Scott’s mom? On the pack? And Morel had... He.” The thought still made him feel sick. “He wanted me because of mom. To breed me, dad, then kill me off.” The heartsick anger made the words come easier as he remembered Morel’s crazy words. “He’d been killing off Omegas for.. for a while. You should check with Argent about all of that. I’m sure he has a whole avalanche of information on him.”

His dad made a dark sound in the back of his throat, his face tightening. Stiles put down the rest of his pizza, suddenly full.

“You don’t sound as mad at Derek anymore.”

Stiles flinched. “I am. He... I’ve hated him for a long time. That doesn’t just. It doesn’t just go away. But.” Stiles pinched the top of his nose, shifting a little on the hard floor. “I guess I’ve grown up or something, because I’m kind of seeing the other side. And... I... they’re right. You’re right. I did throw myself into danger like all the time. So fucking stupid. It’s just dumb luck that I didn’t get killed.”

His dad exhaled a long, shaky breath. “Okay. So... I guess that brings me to my next question. What next?”

Stiles was silent for awhile. “I. I’m not sure. I have to go back East to get my stuff, if nothing else. I don’t particularly want to live in Beacon Hills though.”

His dad stood up and made his way to the kitchen. Stiles heard the fridge open and the hiss of a soda can, then the rush of water as his dad rinsed out the beer bottles. Stiles bit his lip. He wanted to ask... but. But, he really didn’t have any right to ask anything of his dad, not after abandoning him for so long. Instead he closed his eyes, still trailing his hand through Zoe’s curls.

When his dad came back, it was to give Stiles a can of Sprite. It tasted almost too sweet after the garlic of the pizza. Stiles hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until he had drained half the can.

“You know... that I’m not exactly tied here. That money that you sent me? I didn’t exactly spend it. And I can work... anywhere. For that matter so can you. Say... if you needed some help getting your affairs in order in Massachusetts.” Stiles’ dad coughed. “For instance.”

Stiles couldn’t keep the grin off of his face. In a second he had slid out from under Zoe and had thrown his arms around his dad, hugging him tightly. “That sounds... actually that sounds pretty amazing.”

*****

Stiles made his way carefully to the overlook, his feet hardly making sound on the well-packed dirt. He knew he’d be heard anyway, but Stiles tried his best to walk silently. The lone figure was curled up on the rocks, staring down at the town. It was only a half-moon, but bright enough that Stiles could see without the maglight that he’d brought, just in case. Weird that he still remembered exactly where to step, even after two years.

Stiles licked his lips, feeling nervous. But... really, he was out of time. Stiles was going back East tomorrow morning, and if he didn’t do this now then he would never do it.

“Hey, Scott.”

Even without the werewolf spidey sense, Stiles could see that every muscle of Scott’s was tense. Stiles made his way carefully over to the rocks that they’d sat on hundreds of times, on nights just like these.

“Uh. Hi.”

“So, I guess that I should... thank you. I mean! Not guess. I should thank you.” Stiles saw Scott wince. “Shit. I didn’t mean for this to be so awkward. But I saw you out here, and thought maybe we could... talk.”

Scott turned a little towards Stiles, sitting with his legs crossed. “Derek said that you didn’t want to see any of us.”

“I didn’t--”

“I’m sorry that I--.”

They spoke at the same time. Stiles sat down besides Scott, and watched as he visibly relaxed. Scott gave him a ghost of his old grin, and to his surprise, Stiles found his own lips smiling back.   Stiles turned, staring out over the treetops. They were quiet for for quite a while, just sitting there.

“Stiles.” Scott’s whisper was soft enough that Stiles could have ignored it if he wanted to. He was pretty shocked to discover that he didn’t, actually, want to. He turned his head, raising an eyebrow.

“I know that. I’m. Fuck. I’m really sorry that I... that it was my idea to...”

Stiles reacted before he thought about it. One second he was listening to Scott hack out his gasping, feeble attempt at an apology, and the next he was hopping up and down, waving his hand in the air like that was going to do anything to fix his aching knuckles.

The way Scott gaped up at him in utter shock from the forest floor was pretty damn satisfying though. So was the way he clutched his jaw... even though Stiles knew that it was probably already healing.

“You... asshole! Are you kidding me? You’re sorry that you used everything you’ve ever known about me to rip out my fucking heart?!” Stiles waved his hand again, then brought it to his mouth, sucking on his first and second knuckles. “And your stupid jaw is really fucking hard, just so you know.”

Scott opened and shut his mouth a few times, like he was testing the hinge of his jaw. Stiles stomped over to him and offered his hand, huffing impatiently until Scott warily took it, allowing Stiles to pull his former best friend up to his feet.

“Apology accepted, you fucking hard-headed, uneven jawwed asshat.” Stiles jerked him closer, wrapping his arms around Scott’s shoulders in a hug.

Scott made a weird sound against Stiles’ neck, hugging back tightly. It took him awhile, but the muffled “To be fair, you just punched a werewolf in the jaw” made Stiles’ snort in stifled laughter, which made Scott start giggling.

“Jesus, you sound like the first time Allison let you see her boobs. I thought you’d never stop with the... well. It sure as hell wasn’t manly laughter.”

“Hey, man. I told you that in confidence.” Scott tried a frown, but he was smiling too hard to make it stick. Neither one of them had let go from the hug. Stiles could feel Scott’s heartbeat thundering next to his, just as nervous as they both waited to see whether or not Stiles would forgive him.

“Yeah. Right. Confidence. You posted it on Facebook, man. Not really your top ten for romantic declarations.”

Scott pulled away, and both of them pretended that the other’s eyes weren’t slightly damp. It took a few minutes, but they both sat down on the rock again, this time much closer, the stiffness out of both of their bodies, talking a mile a minute. Stiles’ knuckles hurt like a bitch, but he figured that it was worth it, considering.

“Look. I wanted to thank you. You saved...”

Scott shook his head. “No. I just followed your lead, man. And your kid is completely adorable. You’re gonna have your hands full in a few years.”

Stiles snorted. “Hell, I have my hands full now. Gimmie your phone.”   Stiles watched the pleased surprise bloom on Scott’s open face as he handed it over. “What’s your unlock code?” Stiles rolled his eyes hard enough to sprain something when Scott ducked his head, blushing. “Oh my God. Really?” He entered A-L-L-I-S-O-N, then sent himself an email from Scott’s phone. “Look, I have some other stuff to do tonight. I should be heading back, you know. Before my dad sends out the search party.”

“Yeah. Want me to walk with you?” Scott lowered his voice. “I am a werewolf you know. You’re safe with me.”

Stiles only thought about punching again him for a few seconds. Honest. He wasn’t ... quite... ready to give Scott his phone number yet, but an email address was a pretty good first step, he thought.

Apparently so did Scott by the way he grinned down at his phone, not stopping the entire time that they walked back to where Stiles had parked. It didn’t escape Stiles’ notice that they walked in step like they had done a thousand times before, shoulders just barely touching as their feet took the familiar trail back to their cars.

*****
Stiles turned the key, listening to his dad’s ancient truck chuff through the same grinding, painful sounds that it always did. He licked his lips, gnawing nervously on his sore knuckles as he looked up at the light spilling out of the apartment.

It was weird to him that Derek’s pack didn’t live together. Scott had his own apartment across town. Stiles didn’t know where Derek and Isaac lived, only that they lived together. But Boyd and Erica lived just on the edge of town. Stiles huffed out his breath and slid out of the car. His phone chirped and Stiles grinned down at the message.

[photo message received]
Dad:
    --We’re good for the evening.
The picture of his dad and Zoe showed them both draped in something very pink and equally as sparkly. They had matching princess crowns and his dad looked to be holding a very small teacup as they toasted each other. The camera had caught half of Chris Argent’s face, eyebrow raised and lips twisted into a smirk.

Stiles’ laugh was loud on the quiet street.

Stiles:
    --guess that I don’t need my curfew then.

Dad:
    --Funny you should mention that. Look in the glovebox.
Stiles raised an eyebrow, leaning over the bench seat to pop open the glovebox. It was old and had stuck for as long as his dad had had the truck, but Stiles gave it a good knock with his fist and it popped open. Stiles squinted down at the plastic bag, pulling it out and opening it. There was just enough light from the truck cab to see that his dad had bought condoms, lube, and what looked like some breath mints.

Stiles shut the bag, looking around guiltily as though the gay sex police would jump out of the bushes and cite his dad for excessive use of safe sex. He shoved it back in the glove box, covering the bag with the insurance card for good measure.

Dad:
    -Just saying. Don’t be stupid, o child of mine.

Stiles:
    -Don’t ever text me at this number again. JESUS DAD.

Dad:
    -I have two years of shit to give you. I don’t know why you’re surprised.
Stiles couldn’t help the smile. He put his phone back into his pocket and locked the door, jingling the keys a little as he walked to the door. The lingering embarrassment made him forget his nervousness. The door opened before he could knock. Stiles couldn’t help the nervous step back that he took. Boyd looked at him calmly, then stood aside and gestured. Stiles was very careful not to touch him as he squeezed by.

Their apartment was fairly sparse. Everything was almost painfully neat, as though they really didn’t spend too much time there.

“Erica is in the kitchen.”

Stiles blinked, nodding. The kitchen was just off of the living room. Erica was there, frowning down at a coffeemaker like she had never seen one before. Stiles knew that there was no way that Erica didn’t know he was here, but he was content enough to perch on one of the breakfast nook stools and wait for her or Boyd to start the conversation. They had invited him here. Stiles was content to let them run the show.

“So... uh. Is your hand okay?” Erica sounded as nervous as Stiles felt. “I thought Der- uh.” Erica’s cheeks turned bright red. It jarred Stiles and he stared at her nonplussed. As before with her worried about Boyd’s safety, seeing her acting well... normal... was completely out of what he remembered.“We heard that you’d healed up.”

“I did. Between the doc my dad hired and the week of bedrest...” Stiles trailed off, drawing a figure eight on the nook countertop. The week since he and his dad had talked had been beyond boring, but his dad had been adamant that he not try to fly back East without having a clean bill of health. “This was because I punched Scott in the face.”

Erica bit her cheek, clearly trying to fight a smile.

“Are you planning on hitting on anyone here?”

Stiles turned to Boyd. “Uh. No. No I am not.” He forced a small smile. “Well, not planning on it anyway.”

Boyd snorted. Stiles caught the glance Boyd and Erica shared and stood up, leaning forward slightly with his hands on the edge of the counter. “Look. I don’t want to make this awkward or anything. Or more awkward anyway. But while I was in bed it occurred to me that... well. That this was long overdue.” Stiles cleared his throat, not missing the way Erica and Boyd shifted so that their hands were touching as they stood across from him, Boyd leaning against the stove and Erica leaning against the fridge.

“Scott was first, and now you two.”

“Are you going to see Derek next?” Erica didn’t meet his gaze, looking instead down at her feet.

Stiles shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know.” He didn’t. He honestly didn’t know if he wanted to see Derek or not. Derek hadn’t made his way to the safehouse, and Stiles hadn’t made his way to the Hale property. Stiles wasn’t sure if he and Derek were at an impasse or if they were avoiding each other and Stiles had just missed the memo.

Everything was quiet for a few seconds while Stiles, Erica and Boyd all listened to the coffee drip into the coffee pot.

Stiles took a shaky breath. All the angry stuff he thought he’d want to say just didn’t seem as important now. He hadn’t expected to forgive Scott, or Erica, or Boyd. And he didn’t think he had quite forgiven them. There was a lot to overlook, after all. “Look. What you guys did. Even though you were acting on Derek’s orders, it was a really, really shitty thing to do.”

They both nodded in unison, careful to keep their faces blank. Stiles could almost see them forcing themselves to not react with any emotion that would bring their wolves out- leaving Stiles with the advantage. It was something lesser members of Ethel’s pack frequently did to show respect to a member in higher standing. It threw him off; leaving Stiles completely floored. He took a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck, shifting his weight back further on the stool. “And it’s not like I’m going to invite you over for pints of Ben and Jerrys to discuss our feelings over everything, but. I sort of get why you did it.” He did. Kind of. Even though he still had dreams of how Erica had sounded as he stood there, and the cold disdain in Boyd’s voice; the disgust in the way that they’d told Stiles about the bet... he did “get” why the two of them had done it. “It just...”

“Sucked.”

Stiles blinked, nodding at Boyd. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to stay for coffee?” Erica blurted it out, her wince at her verbal awkwardness causing some of the tension to bleed out of the kitchen. Stiles appreciated the tenseness in her voice. He felt the same way.

“Nah. But here.” Stiles bent over and scrawled his email address on the back of a water bill. “Keep in touch, okay? I don’t know how long I’ll be back East, but I wanted to say goodbye before I left. Thank you for helping me get my daughter back.”

“You call us anytime for backup.” Boyd held out his hand, and Stiles was shocked when he saw himself grip and shake it. He and Erica had never really been close enough to give each other a hug (besides the fact that Stiles was never 100% sure that she wouldn’t bite his face off if he tried) but they did trade smiles.

Stiles gave a little wave and showed himself out of the apartment. It was like with Scott, and nothing like with Scott.Terrible and awkward, and mostly sincere; but regardless, Stiles felt much lighter as he jogged back to his dad’s truck. He’d gone there thinking that he wanted an apology from the two of them... but it occurred to him that well. He didn’t need their apology. It wouldn’t change anything. Stiles knew that the two of them had been ordered to participate in Scott and Derek’s little deception. It was beyond shitty, and it sucked, but.

Maybe it was time to let some of that shit go.

****
Stiles:
    - Need advice.

Harper:
    -?
    -Am I still picking you up at the airport?

- Wait, what kind of advice? Because I want you to know that I don’t feel up to helping you with any issues involving your dick.

Stiles rolled his eyes. He stared down at his phone, literally pulled over on the side of the road. Turning left would take him to the Argent’s safehouse. Turning right would take him towards the Hale property. Stiles bit his lip.

Stiles:
-I think I’m going to do something really stupid.

Harper:
-?????

Stiles:

-Nevermind. I think I’ve figured it out.

Stiles turned to the left, ignoring the way his throat and gut seemed to have switched places. It didn’t take him long to get to the safehouse, and it was easy enough to ignore the way his dad raised his eyebrows in surprise at the way Stiles just waved and ran to the back of the small apartment, shutting the door behind him with a small click. Zoe’s squeal was muffled. Not even his dad’s gravely response made Stiles smile. He flopped down on the bed, staring up blindly at the ceiling. His phone buzzed, and Stiles glanced down at the screen, biting at his lip again.

Dad:
    - You okay, kid?

Was he? Saying goodbye to Scott and the other two wolves had felt... well. He’d felt like he had been in control of the situation, instead of... well. Victimized by it. By them. But even with all of that, Derek was the main problem. Everything had been so fucked up that he couldn’t decide whether what he was feeling- what he thought he was feeling- was real or not. Was he still angry? Hurt? Turned-on? Grateful? Nervous? Lovesick?

Stiles knew that no matter how much he might want to just get in his dad’s old truck and drive over to Derek’s to see if maybe... maybe he wasn’t completely imagining all of this... he couldn’t. How could he try to start some kind of relationship (assuming that was what Derek actually wanted- which Stiles couldn’t exactly be sure of, given the craziness of the past few weeks) with Derek when he didn’t trust him?

And yeah, it had been over two years ago since he’d left Beacon Hills, but that didn’t mean that Stiles could just... toss all that hurt away. The thing was, he didn’t trust Derek, or Scott, or Erica, or Boyd. He didn’t think he could completely trust them again.

Stiles sighed and rolled over on his side.

Stiles:
    -Yep. Want me to give her her bath?

Dad:
    - No. I don’t mind. Trying to soak up what I can while I can.

That was another thing. Stiles might be nervous about moving back to Massachusetts- there was no fucking way he was ever living in his house again- but the fact remained that he had things to tie up. As much as they both might want him to, Stiles’ dad couldn’t just drop everything and move across the country.

So a tentative plan B had his dad wrapping up everything here in California and moving out at the end of the month. Stiles wasn’t exactly sure what he and Zoe would do. Somehow, staying with Harper didn’t feel right either.

Oh well. He had some time to think about it.

Stiles rolled over onto his back, listening to Zoe’s high-pitched talking. He grinned a little at the tone. Her ‘but-I-need-just-one-more-story-please!’ tone of voice was as familiar to Stiles as his own. He had almost fallen asleep when his phone chirped again, causing Stiles to blink down at it rather stupidly.

Lydia?

He hadn’t even seen Lydia since he’d been here, although they’d texted back and forth a few times. It had never been as big of a deal. Danny had set him up with an untraceable identity (Danny swore by it, and Stiles figured they were all too scared of Lydia for it not to be what it said on the tin) Stiles didn’t email very frequently, but he had kept in touch. Mostly with Danny, but Lydia and Jackson had no issues with putting in their two cents when necessary. Stiles often thought that he couldn’t have managed to stay in hiding without the three of them working together.

He’d never asked just how Danny had managed to get him the fake ID and social security card. Stiles wasn’t entirely certain he really wanted to know. He was fairly sure that between the three of them they could head their own branch of a criminal ring- or work for the CIA. Both were equally feasible.

From: Strawberrygoddess@gmail.com

To: jbane@yahoo.com

Re: What, no sweet goodbyes?

So okay. A little birdie tells me that you’re leaving tomorrow. Are you going back as John or as Stiles? Danny can make that happen for you... just need to know what you have planned. Let us know if you need help packing.

Stiles stared down at his phone. He had literally been so wrapped up in his own drama that he not spared a thought for who he was going to go back as. He blinked. That was something to think about. On one hand, there was no need for him to stay in hiding anymore. He had no one to hide from. Morel was... gone. Both his dad and Derek and his pack knew... well. Stiles winced as he gnawed on his chapped lower lip.

From: jbane@yahoo.com

To: Strawberrygoddess@gmail.com

Re: Re: What, no sweet goodbyes?

Actually been a little busy. Did your little birdie tell you that? I am exhausted and ready to go to sleep, but I will email you from the plane. That’s something I need to think about.

There was barely a minute before Stiles got a reply:

From: Strawberrygoddess@gmail.com

To: jbane@yahoo.com

Re: Re: Re: What, no sweet goodbyes?

Take as long as you need. Sweet dreams, Stiles. Fly safe.

Stiles got up to make his way to the bathroom, idly picking up the toys that Zoe had left strewn all over the place. In the week that he’d been recovering, his dad hadn’t exactly been shy in buying her any and everything that she even glanced at, and Stiles hadn’t been able to find it in his heart to tell him to stop. It was going to be hard enough driving to the airport tomorrow. Stiles had insisted on doing it himself, with the least amount of fuss possible.

He took a shower and packed up what he could, leaving out what he and Zoe would need for the morning. Stiles didn’t hear anything from his dad’s bedroom, so he walked as quietly as he could back to the bedroom he’d been sleeping in. Maybe it was stupid, but Stiles thought that Derek might be waiting for him in the bed when he got there. If this were some kind of movie- they would kiss, and makeup, and everything would be perfect. Happy endings for all.

But real life didn’t work that way.

***

“And you’re sure you have your phone? And it’s charged?”

Stiles frowned down at the rental car. He’d thought that a small one would be fine... that he and Zoe couldn’t have possibly accumulated so much stuff in the short amount of time that they’d been here. They were just driving to the airport after all. Stiles moved one of Zoe’s suitcases and tilted it on his side so that he could fit in bag full of books that his dad had bought into the tiny hatchback... and still leave enough room to see out of the back.

His dad had offered to drive them to the airport, but Stiles had thought it would be better for everyone if they just said goodbye here. Less trauma for Zoe. Hell. Less trauma for him. He’d already gotten goodbye emails from Lydia, Danny, Boyd and Erica,and Scott. Allison had stopped by to give him a hug, which okay that had been a little weird and bring by maple syrup for the pancakes. Stiles had been too under-caffeinated to decipher the look she had given him after staring significantly at her dad, then at his dad placidly sitting down to breakfast together, but it had made her eyebrows look like they were going to twitch off of her face.

When he had gotten it,---because oh my god really. His dad? and Chris Argent?!---he’d almost choked to death on his short stack of pancakes. Allison had just shaken her head, staring at him like he was too stupid to live, then made a hasty exit with her dad on an excuse so thin, Stiles was surprised that Zoe hadn’t picked up on it. Still, he and his dad had managed to avoid the rather large elephant in the room, focusing instead on getting everything packed and ready for Stiles and Zoe to leave.

“Yeah. I have everything.” Stiles frowned down at the car, slamming the hatchback with more force than was probably necessary. “Well. I better do one last walk-through just to be sure.” The look on his dad’s face said plenty.

And okay, maybe he was stalling a bit. Stiles just couldn’t believe that Derek wasn’t even... that he... he blew out a frustrated breath. No. This was stupid. This was better, really. A clean break of all the drama and emotionalism, right? No worry about Derek deciding to confuse Zoe with his presence. No worry about Derek deciding to confuse Stiles with his presence.

“You know that Derek quit, right?”

Stiles jumped, whirling around and staring at his dad with his hand over his heart. “What?! Jeez! Where’s Zoe?”

“She’s having a goodbye grandpa snack in the kitchen. I just thought... you should know. That Derek quit working for me.”

“Why would that matter?” Stiles spied a stray sock and got down on his knees, grateful for the excuse to ignore the look on his dad’s face.

“Stiles.”

Stiles winced.

“You know that I hired him to go get you, but what you don’t know is that he was sitting there in the office with me when you called. His face, Stiles. When he heard you on the phone?” His dad cleared his throat. “And you probably know that he refused to actually let me pay him. Was calling in favors left and right for an old friend of his to fly him across the country so that he could be there so fast. Damndest thing.

Stiles’ throat hurt. Maybe that was why he sounded so wrecked when he was finally able to speak. “Why. Why are you telling me this, dad?” Stiles watched his dad’s familiar face through eyes that might have been a little blurry.

“Hm. Well, I’ve just spent the last twenty minutes watching you walk around this five room apartment, looking for everything that you damn well know has been packed up for a good two hours now, just kind of ...hoping.”

Damn investigatively-trained parents. “You sound like you want him to show up.”

His dad shrugged. “I want what you want, kid,”

Stiles forced a grin. “Yeah. As soon as I figure out exactly what that is, I’ll be sure to let you know.” His dad laughed and Stiles took a step forward, hugging him tightly. “Thanks, dad. For everything.”

His dad’s voice was a little gravely when he responded. “Yeah. Now enough stalling. You two have a plane to catch.” His dad’s hugs smelled awesome, although Stiles couldn’t help but notice that he was using a different aftershave. They hugged each other a little too tightly and Stiles took a deep, shaky breath so that he wouldn’t start blubbering all over the place. He was surprised that he didn’t have an aneurysm when he recognized the aftershave. Stiles pulled back, narrowing his eyes up at his dad’s face. “New aftershave?” he asked, only to bite the inside of his cheek when his dad’s face flooded with color.

“Uh. Er. Yeah. Pretty new.”

Stiles’ lips twitched. “Hmm. I’m going to go out on a leap of deductive faith here and assume that the little “gift” that you supposedly left for me in your glovebox wasn’t originally meant for me, was it?”

It was his dad’s turn to avoid Stiles’ gaze.

Stiles couldn’t help the laugh that burst from his lips at the way his dad cleared his throat, obviously summing up his thoughts for a Big Announcement. He took a step back and held up his hand. “No worries, dad. It smells nice. It’s a good... aftershave. I mean, I’ve never wanted to try it or anything, but I think that... particular scent is long overdue.”

The metaphor was starting to get a little ridiculous. Somewhere, Stiles just knew that Allison was cackling evilly.

His dad’s face still looked like he’d been storing up fifteen years worth of blushing for just this moment, but he turned and walked to the kitchen, cleaning up Zoe’s hands and face from the apples she’d been happily munching on. “Okay kiddo. Ready to go and see Harper and Miz Ethel?” His voice was still a little tight, but Stiles didn’t call him on it. Plenty of time for that later. It was a long flight, after all.

They’d chosen to play that up, rather than focus on the fact that Zoe was leaving her grandpa and all the new people she’d met. Zoe reached out for Stiles’ hand as they walked outside again, his dad standing there a little awkwardly with his hands in his pockets, staring at Zoe with a sad look on his face. Stiles sighed, guilt crawling through his gut.

“None of that now.” His dad grinned. It was only a little forced. Stiles leaned over and buckled Zoe in the car seat, stepping out of the way so that his dad could say goodbye. Stiles jangled the car keys in his hand, taking another look around at the quiet, residential street.

“Okay?”

“Yep.” Stiles walked around to the back of the car.

“You have your tickets? ID? Some extra cash for...”

“Yeah dad. We’re fine. I’ll call you when we land, okay?”

“You better.”

Stiles saluted, then hugged his dad once more His dad turned to stand on the little stoop- what the apartment complex laughingly referred to as a front porch. He knew his dad only planned on staying here another few days- that his house would be ready and habitable again once the army of Argents got through ‘de-Moreling’ it. Even the thought made Stiles uncomfortable. Morel had only had access to his dad’s house in Beacon Hills for a few days. He’d had Stiles’ house in Mass for years. He wasn’t entirely sure that he could even stomach the thought of sleeping in his house again after everything.

Stiles went around to his side of the car, sliding in and making a slight face at the annoying chiming sound the car made with the open door. Zoe laughed and turned to wave at her grandpa. Stiles started the car and poked his head out the window. “Don’t look so bummed! It’s only for a few weeks, right?”

His dad smiled, waving.

Stiles smirked with his head still out of the window. “Time for some more aftershave, I think dad. You’re looking a little frowny.”

His dad’s wave turned into more of a one-finger salute.

Stiles cracked up, popped his head back into the car and put it in reverse.

“Look, Daddy! Look! I can wave with one finger too!”

“Oh, jeez,” Stiles muttered under his breath. “Thanks, dad.” He watched as his dad turned to go back inside, manfully ignoring the way Zoe sat in the back seat, using one hand to position her other hand, flicking off the stuffed dog his dad had given her. There was probably some irony in that, but Stiles was too tired to pick it out. He had just put the rental car in drive when he saw him. At first Stiles thought it was just a shadow- a trick of the light framed perfectly in the small space of the back window.

Derek stood half-hidden behind a tree, staring at Stiles’ rental car... watching them drive away. He was dressed in the familiar jeans, t shirt and leather jacket, his jaw just as set as it had been when Derek had driven them to the safehouse. Stiles felt his mouth pop open as he watched Derek raise one hand in a silent wave goodbye, holding the pose as Stiles drove slowly down the street.

For one second, Stiles thought of stopping the car. He could picture it: He’d jump out of the driver’s seat, and somehow Derek would just be there, and their lips would meet, trembling and uncertain and...they’d live happily after after.

Zoe’s bright laugh in the small confines of the car jarred him back to reality. Derek was still standing there, not so much hiding behind the tree as keeping himself out of the way. His hand was still raised.

“Daddy? Are we going home now?”

“Yeah, baby. We sure are.”

With one final glance at Derek, Stiles took a deep, shuddering breath and put his own hand out of the window, acknowledging the goodbye with a wave of his own.

Stiles bit his lip, surprised to find that he was smiling.