I'll Always Know It's You (Sterek)

Chapter 3

Derek's POV

I stare at Stiles blankly, feeling weird as I don't recall the memory he's recollecting for me. He bursts into another fit of laughter as he looks at me.

"OK, enough laughing, freckle-face." I smirk at Stiles' new nickname, one that I know pisses him off.

"I'll only stop laughing if you stop calling me that." His eyes narrow as I notice he's trying to hold back another fit of laughter.

"I don't make promises to people, and by my judge of your character, especially you." I shrug nonchalantly.

Stiles stops laughing, as I see his face fall, the wall once again coming up over his features. "Whatever. Let's go collect our food. I'm starving." 

I screwed up yet again. 

I'm so stupid.

No wonder it seems like everyone hates me.

I follow Stiles back downstairs as he grabs his keys and we head out for the Jeep, getting into the same spots we were in on the way here.

"You sure you want me coming with you?" I look Stiles up and down as he puts the key into the ignition.

"Well, I can't just leave you here all by yourself, and judging the fact that you're a Hale, especially you." The form of his words, similar to mine a few moments ago, pierce my heart.

"Fine." I say, silence engulfing the entire car ride, with Stiles concentrating on where he's going and with me staring at the window, thinking. My thoughts seem to come to Stiles. No matter what I try to think about, it all just goes back to Stiles. I shake my head, knowing current me would never think of Stiles that way. No. When I get back to my current self, I'll thank Stiles and never think about him really much again. The way things used to be. the way things should be.

Right?

"Derek." Stiles' voice brings me back from my thoughts. I look up and see him standing outside my car door holding the two boxes of pizza. I scramble to open the door, Stiles cramming both boxes onto my lap, the hot boxes burning through my skinny jeans.

Stiles gets in and slams the door, turning to look to see if anyone is behind him. I feel his gaze look me up and down before he turns back and starts backing out of the parking spot we idled in.

I swallow, wanting to say something to break the silence that is starting to feel suffocating, but Stiles beats me to it. "You don't have to stay with me here if you really don't want to. I know my house isn't big enough, I can just drop you off at your loft if you would feel more comfortable there, an we can stay there." He bangs the steering wheel, sighing.

"I'll stay with you at your house. It's fine. If you don't mind that is, since you have to look after me anyway." I look away from Stiles, and out the window as he turns onto the already familiar street.

"Good. I don't have enough gas to get there anyway." He laughs, the air becoming less suffocating, it's grip around my throat and heart loosening.

I laugh. "I could run there." I smirk, but add, "But I'm not going to," before he can respond. I see a small smile spread across his face as the floodlights come on, blinding us once again.

"Hold on, don't move. I go around the front and get your door for you." Stiles says, climbing out of the Jeep and jogging to my side opening the door.

"Why, thank you young gentleman." I laugh.

"You're welcome, young lady." He smirks, and I can tell by the expression on his face he feels triumphant, so I keep my snarky comment to myself as to not pop his bubble.

He unlocks the door and we enter the kitchen, the lights coming up as Stiles flips the switch for the kitchen, then going to lock the front door once he knows I'm in.

"Looks like you're trapped in for the night." Stiles turns his back to me as he gets plates and two glasses for us.

"So? We've got food." I open a pizza box and jam a piece hungrily into my mouth.

"You're so not the same Derek, but at the same time the exact same Derek." Stiles says, wide-eyed as he goes for a slice.

"I don't react to food this way now? That's a tad sad man." I fake sadness, which only bubbles up laughter in Stiles, causing him to choke on a bite of pizza as he croaks out laughter.

"I'm not doing mouth to mouth, so don't you dare actually choke." I warn, laughter following the statement.

"Thanks, I'll try to remember that the next time it threatens me." He rolls his eyes, but grins.

It only takes us a half hour to devour an entire pizza, leaving us both groaning with fullness and complaints of combustion. Stiles puts the other box in the fridge, refilling his glass of water as well.

"Want anything before we head up to bed?" He asks politely, giving me his innocent eyes, their color piercing something in me.

I shake my head. "No, I'm all good. I just need somewhere to pass out before I faint."

"Well don't faint because I'm not going to pick you up." He laughs, mimicking me from earlier.

"Haha. Aren't you funny." My eyes narrow at him.

"Who? Me? Please. I don't tease people who are on the verge of choking with no help. That's just cruel." Stiles says, flicking off the kitchen light as he moves past me through the small entryway, our bodies touching, and I feel Stiles' heart rate quicken, his breath hitching in his throat.

"You alright there Stilinski?" I ask, smirking in the darkness at the way he squirms out of the uncomfortable contact.

"Yeah, just got too close. Sorry."

He leads up upstairs, back to his room. He sets the glass of water down on his desk as he moves things, making an open space beside his bed on the floor. He opens his closet and takes out a blow up mattress and it's air-providing machine. He bends down to plug it in, the soft hum of air transferring into the empty mattress filling my eardrums.

"This OK for you?" He asks, standing back up, causing my eyes to move up to his face, the heat climbing up my neck suggesting my eyes were looking somewhere else. I nod anyway.

"Yeah, that's perfectly fine for me."

"Okay, cool. This is what my friends usually sleep in when they sleepover. We don't exactly have a guest room or anything. And blankets are underneath my bed, and you can just take a pillow from my collection on my bed." He points the stuff out and then leaves me alone in his room, taking the glass of water with him. He re-enters the room moments later, the mattress reaching its maximum storage for air.

"Where did you go?" I ask curiously, not prying.

"I had to take my medication." He replies, putting the now empty glass back on his desk.

"Medication?" I ask.

"Yeah. My ADHD medication. I usually take it in the morning, but with the way things have been going, I've been forgetting to, so I just take it at night. Don't worry, I won't turn into a sociopath while you sleep." He smiles a forced smile.

"I wasn't entirely worried. Even if you did, I could rip your throat out. With my teeth." I shrug, and meet his bewildered expression.

"What?" I ask, thinking there's something disgusting on me.

"Are you sure you have no memories of current you?" Stiles asks as he climbs into his bed.

I nod. "Yeah, positive. I couldn't even tell you what I look like. Why?" I shut off the light with a switch I find near the door and climb onto the air mattress, pulling the sheets under my chin, trying to protect myself from everyone out there. Everything out there.

I think Stiles had fallen asleep, but his words pierce through the night. "Because you're making a lot of references to moments we've had."