This is in no way going to be as long as my previous story in this series. This will most likely be short and sweet. For the sake of this story, there is only five years between Stiles and Derek. The second half of the story kind of got away from me and turned a little more angsty and dramatic, sorry. Set post season 3.

Happy Easter to one and all.

Derek has always been a little bit self-conscious about his front teeth, and by a little he means a lot. It started when Ricky Keller called him Roger Rabbit in front of the whole class, and Wendy Grace Hall. It had broken his heart when she'd laughed along with everyone else. When he lost his baby teeth he'd hoped the new one would be nice, small and normal, but no such luck. He was stuck with them.

As he grew up and gained a thicker skin, he stopped letting it get to him. Stopped caring what any one said about his bunny teeth, if you could call punching Cameron Lahey in the face, not caring. He would.

Derek would admit, in the future any way, that his bad attitude and obnoxious personality had a lot to do with the teasing and bullying he suffered through the years. People stopped laughing at him when they realised it would land them in the nurses office. - Or on one occasion, a hospital bed. What can he say, it was the full moon, he can't be held responsible.

Of course while everyone gave him a wide birth and knew to keep their mouths shut about his teeth, there was one person. One annoying little shit of a middle schooler who just didn't get the memo. Stiles Stilinski. The bane of his existence.

Derek hadn't even known who the kid was until one day when his mom had insisted he collect Cora from school and he'd arrived to find her standing on side lines while some skinny squirt of a kid was getting pummel by another kid. Derek hadn't even waited a second before barging into the ruckus and dragging the little jerk off. Derek shot his sister a disdainful look and she just shrugged, turning to march off to the car. Derek shook his head, shoved the kid, who he'd later discover was Jackson Whitmore, away and reached down to help a blood Stiles to his feet.

"You okay kid?" Derek asked, frowning as Stiles rubbed angrily at his eyes and swiped the back of his hand under his nose, dragging a streak of blood across his cheek. Derek's protective instincts clawed at his gut and he had to restrain himself to march after Whitmore and beat him bloody. Screw that the little prick was no more than nine. "Do you need a ride?"

Stiles finally looked up at him, and froze. His chocolate coloured eyes widened and his mouth hung open as he stared.

"You okay?" Derek asked, feeling uncomfortable under Stiles intense gaze. How could a nine year old even make him uncomfortable? Him? "Kid?" Derek snapped his fingers in front of Stiles face a couple of times, until the skinny runt startled and words seemed to pour out of his mouth unchecked.

"You look like a bunny." he displayed his own front teeth and wrinkled his nose.

Derek narrowed his eyes. "I should have let him finish the job." he growled.

Stiles leant back silently on his eyes, panic sparking in his eyes for a second. Then he straightened his back, righted himself and replied. "I was luring him into a false sense of security, and then I would have pow!" he shoved his fist forward into the empty air.

Derek raised a brow down at him, a bubble of amusement building in his chest. "Right, you were just tiring his arm out with your face?"

Stiles winked at him. "See, we're like..." he waved two fingers quickly between his forehead and Derek, a motion Derek recognised to indicate they were on the same waved length. He couldn't help but scoff.

"Yeah. Look, do you need a ride?"

Stiles scoffed, waving his blood smeared hand around and shaking his head rigorously. "Nah, I got..." he stumbled backwards.

Derek caught him by both elbows, dropping to his knees in the process. He looked at Stiles face, his own gaze flickering between Stiles eyes. "Nah, you're coming with me, kiddo."

"I'm fine." Stiles insisted, then processed to blow chunks over Derek's shirt and jeans.

Derek was unable to hold back the growl, or the flash of his eyes as he held Stiles at arm's length. Thankfully the kid was too busy staring at the mess and rattling off apologies to notice.

Once Derek had got his anger under control and shook off the worst of Stiles punk, he'd manhandled the kid back to his car, shoved him into the back seat with a warning that if he was going to punk again, do it out the window and then climbed behind the wheel. Cora sat with her nose wrinkled, grumbling under her breath about what a loser Stiles was and why Derek should have just left him at the school. Derek ignored her the whole ride home.

It was that Easter that the first bunny arrived on his doorstep. Stiles didn't even deny it was him. He'd just grinned at him, wrinkled his nose and laughed.

For three years Derek's Easter was plagued with Bunny's care of Stiles Stilinski. For three days every year he woke up to a varying assortment of them on his porch, the kitchen counter, and on one memorable occasion when he was sixteen, in his bed. He'd had a stuffed giant white one and a small glass one. He'd even gotten a blue origami one, that looked more like a death glider and a rabbit, but Derek hadn't thrown it, he never did. Instead he'd placed it on his shelf next to his Basketball trophy.

It had genuinely confused and surprised Derek that Stiles jokes and teasing didn't incite the same reaction from him that it so often did when coming from others. He'd even lost his shit at Laura, Cora and Thomas whenever they so much as muttered the word rabbit in his hearing. In a certain memorable incident Thomas had ended up with a black eye after Derek headed him laughing the word rabbit. As it had turned out, he'd been telling their mum about some silly thing the class pet had done, but Derek had been eight and had a bad day.

The stranger thing was that it wasn't just the jokes that only stiles got a pass on. When he'd started dating Paige she'd brought him this ridiculous cute pink bunny a heart for their first Valentine's Day and while Derek had appreciated it, it had felt like a strange betrayal accepting it and setting it next to McFloppyFlop, yeah Stiles was terrible at naming stuff. Every time he saw it there next to the large white rabbit, he felt a small wave of dislike for the thing, and towards Paige for encroaching on his and Stiles... Thing.

They'd all been destroyed in the fire.

It had been years before the regret at losing them surfaced, wading up through the pain of mourning his dead family. One Easter morning four years later, in a crappy New York apartment, Derek had woken up on his pull-out bed and frowned at the lack of a special Easter bunny surprise. - And the absence of the obnoxious little twerp that gave them to him.

It was another four years before he saw Stiles again.

Derek had been braced for a snarky bunny joke when he'd stumbled across Stiles and Scott in the preserve. When it didn't come, Derek was surprised by the intense feeling of hurt. A strange hollowness opened up in his chest.

Of course he knew it was most likely Stiles hadn't remembered, why would he? It wasn't as if they'd been friends back then. Derek had just been the butt of Stiles jokes. The bunnies couldn't have possibly meant anything to a twelve year old. Hell, they shouldn't have meant anything to a seventeen year old.

And yet, for some insane reason, they had.

They'd meant the world.

Which was perhaps the reason behind his hostility towards Stiles since he'd returned three years ago. Of course, Stiles hadn't taken any of him seriously for a second. Much like that first meeting, Stiles had continued to look him square in the eye and mocked him. Only this time there was no secret gifts to sooth the wounds his cold mockery inflicted.

That was until now.

Derek woke up a week after burying Allison to find a large bunny that had been white once but was now a mix of charred black and sooty grey. Derek's heart leapt into his throat at the sight of it, beating out a quick rhythm against his air pipe. With shaky hands he crouched and lifted the thing, turning it over in his hand. It was missing an eye and had black and maroon stitches across the seams of its foot and right ear. Despite that, there was no denying it was McFloppyFlop.

He felt his hands begin to shake, stumbling back into the loft, and over to the couch. Derek perched on the edge, the bunny cradled between his hands as if it were a new-born baby. He swallowed against the thickness in his throat. He'd been so sure the thing had been destroyed along with everything else he every loved. A cruel and unusual punishment for ever getting involved with Kate.

Yet here it was.

In his hands.

On Easter Sunday.

A tear rolled down his cheek at the realisation Stiles hadn't forgotten. Not him. Not their special tradition. Derek heart began to race so fast it was stealing his breath.

Across the room his cell chimed, announcing the arrival of a message. Derek startled at the unexpected sound, but didn't move to answer it. He wasn't sure he could stand without toppling over, the world around him having shifted on its axis.

Stiles remembered. He'd always remember. Kept repeating in his head. But why hadn't he said anything? Why had he pretended to hate him? To despise him. To want him dead. Looking back now, there had been no real venom in any of Stiles' threats, but there had been a lot of anger and hatred.

Derek's breath caught as an idea, a realisation, fluttered across his mind.

Another chirp of his phone draw his attention, and despite his unwillingness to move, he forced himself to his feet, padding hazily over to the bed. Stiles name stared up at him, and once more Derek's hands began to tremble. Quickly, with a ball of nervous energy in his gut, he opened the incoming messages.

Stiles 09:14 04/20/2014

Happy Easter

Stiles 09:15 04/20/2014

Dinner at 1pm.

Dinner? Was he being invited to dinner? Surely that was what was happen? Maybe Stiles had the wrong number. Derek just couldn't bring himself to hope, not after the way the past few years have been for him. It was as if, since Paige's death, he'd been punished. Never allowed to love again.

With that suddenly in the forefront of his mind, Derek quickly hit reply.

Are you inviting me to dinner?

He held his breath as he waited for a reply, turning to sit on the edge of his bed. McFloppyFlop in his lap and the cell in his hand.

It chirped a couple of seconds later, and Derek opened it nervously. Sure it was going to be an sarcastic apology from Stiles, saying he'd meant to text Scott.

Stiles 09:20 04/20/2014

Dah, genius.

Oh. Derek stared at the screen, bemused and unsure what he was meant to do. It was almost a minuet before he realised another message had arrived.

Stiles 09:21 04/20/2014

Unless you have other plans?

Derek inhaled, a sharp pain ripping through his heart. Once upon a time he would have had other plans. Once upon a time he'd have woken to a house in chaos as his Mom, Gran and Laura prepared for the large family dinner, while Thomas and his Dad were out in the yard tossing a baseball around, before they all headed off to Church. He'd be surrounded by his large extended family, a family the fire had stolen from him.

Stiles 09:22 04/20/2014

You don't have to come. It's cool. No worries.

Derek hurriedly replied.

No. I mean, yes. Thank you. If your dad won't mind.

Stiles 09:23 04/20/2014

Just be here at 1pm.

Derek set the cell on the bed and looked down at McFloopyFlop, his lips slowly beginning to curl. For years there had been a heavy undefined weight resting on his shoulders, and in his chest, that was finally beginning to lift.

Setting McFloopyFlop down against the pillow like some kind of sacred relic, Derek got to his feet and headed off towards the bathroom for a shower. A lightness in his head and heart.

_April: You're The Easter Bunny When You Smile_

Derek sat in the Toyota staring at Stiles front porch, his heart beating almost painfully. He didn't know why he was suddenly so nervous. He's been to the house a dozen times, he'd hidden out there after Peter's attack on the school. He'd never asked himself why. It had just felt like the best place to be. Instinct had drawn him there.

It wasn't meeting the sheriff that made him nervous either. He'd come to know Noah Stilinski over the past year or so, better than he had before the fire. As a kid Derek had only met the Sheriff three times. Once had been in an official capacity. The other two had been when he'd dropped Stiles off at the station after all rather than at home.

Derek wasn't sure what Noah really thought of him, they'd worked well together to save Stiles from the Nogitsune but there was a huge difference between putting up with him for the sake of saving his son, and sitting across a dinner table with him. What was he even doing here? This was ridiculous. Whatever the connection was, he and Stiles had shared as kids, they're not friends now. They were at best frienemies and at worst acquaintances.

It didn't mean anything that Stiles had saved his ass at least a dozen times over the past three years.

It didn't mean anything that when Chris had said he'd put Stiles down if need be, it had felt like a kick to the gut.

It didn't mean anything that he would have ripped Chris in half before letting him lay a finger on the annoying shit.

And it certainly didn't mean a damn thing that Stiles had haunted his dreams every night since he'd they'd freed him from the Nogitsune's possession.

Stiles Stilinski was just the jackass kid who made funny of his teeth and gave him a bunny for Easter.

A knock on the car window startled him out of his own head. He snapped it around to see Stiles staring at him, brow raised and lips curved up in a smile.

"You going to stay in there all day?" the kid called though the glass.

Derek gritted his teeth and tried to regain some equalibrium. When he was in control of his wayward heart, rolled down the window. "I was trying to decide if I really wanted to put up with you today?"

"Well if you've got a better offer somewhere else, please don't let me keep you." Stiles huffed, stepping back from the car and waving his arm at the empty road. "No? Didn't think so." he said with a laugh. "Get your ass out of the car, Derek."

Derek opened his mouth to argue, even as his hand was pulling the car key free and opening the door. "I'm only here before I have nothing to eat at home."

"Whatever you need to tell yourself, man. - Dinner is almost ready."

"And you're sure your dad doesn't mind me being here."

Stiles shrugged. "More the merrier." he grumbled, marching off towards the house.

Derek rushed to catch up with him, strolling silently at his side. Inside the house he was instantly hit with the wonderful scent of roasting turkey and steaming vegetables.

"Dad, Derek's here!" Stiles yelled. "I had to drag him out the car!"

Derek flushed, looking awkwardly around the house.

"You can hang your jacket up there." Stiles gestured at the row of hooks and coats. "Assuming you can pry it from your flesh." he scoffed.

Derek shot him a look while shrugging out of his favourite leather jacket and hanging it up on the hook.

"Derek." Noah greeted, stepping out of the kitchen in a blue apron inviting people to KISS THE COOK.

"Sherriff." Derek nodded, straightening.

"I'm off duty, call me Noah. Dinner should be another five minutes. Can I get you a beer?"

"Dad, werewolves don't..."

"Thank you." Derek interrupted.

Noah inclined his head. "Don't just hover in the hall, go make yourself at home." with that he turned on his heels and vanished back into the kitchen.

Stiles smiled and turned, leading the way into the den. "Dad sees to Easter, I do Thanksgiving." he explained, slumping heavily in the lounge chair. "We usually spend Christmas with Scott and Melissa, which of course you already know."

Derek nodded, taking a seat on the couch. He'd made a point not to ask about how Stiles and Scott spent their holidays. Mostly because hearing about Thanksgiving and Christmas would have only reminded him of what he'd lost. He spent the days either locked away in his loft or out of town, trying to pretend they were days like any other.

Shaking off the thought, Derek tapped his knee. "How are you feeling?" He hadn't actually had a chance to talk to Stiles, between burying Aiden and Allison's funeral.

"Here you go Derek." Noah said, cutting off Stiles reply. He handed Derek the bottle before disappearing back into the kitchen.

"I'm fine." Stiles said, unconvincingly. He fell silent and Derek opened his beer, gulping down half of it. When Stiles spoke again, his voice was a whisper. "Still having nightmares." he confessed.

Derek looked over to find Stiles staring down at his sock covered feet like they held the answers to life, the universe and everything. "That's understandable." he whispered back. Stiles clearly not wanting his dad to hear them.

Stiles huffed an unamused laugh. "Yeah. - Except now I'm always terrified it's not a dream."

Derek's stomach clenched. The nogitsune had gotten into all their heads, and he'd had some surreal dreams the last few weeks. Most of them involving Stiles, - and Kate. Stiles however had gotten the worst of it, being the demons vessel had messed with Stiles head so badly everyone, including himself, thought the kid was ill. Taking the same path as his dead mother.

"I dream about Allison a lot." Stiles continued. "Most nights actually, only it isn't one of those warrior dudes killing her, its Me." he looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers.

"Perhaps you should talk to someone, Deaton maybe or..."

"I'm talking to you." Stiles said firmly, lifting his gaze to meet Derek's. "You always made it better."

Derek swallowed thickly, his heart beginning to race again. Their gazes were locked on one another, intense and silent. Stiles opened his mouth to say more, but was once again cut off by his father announcing dinner was ready.

_April: You're The Easter Bunny When You Smile_

Dinner had been seriously awkward at first, but after a short while, when they all began to focus on their food more than their own nervousness, the conversation began to flow easily. Noah asked Derek what his plans were, was he sticking around Beacon Hills? Derek could only answer with. "For the time being." Then the sheriff had asked about Cora and Peter, which had somehow lead to a barrage of questions about being a werewolf. Questions Derek was pretty sure the older man had been bursting to ask since he'd first discovered they existed. Questions neither Stiles nor Scott could actually answer.

By the time dessert was finished, Noah would probably knew about everything from the most effective ways to subdue a omega to ancient werewolf marriage rites, though that had particular subject had been broached by Stiles, unsurprisingly.

With the meal done, Stiles waved his father off to the den to sleep it off and relax, then dragged Derek into the kitchen to help with the washing up. Derek had reminded Stiles that he was a guest but it apparently fell on deaf ears, before seconds later he had a pile of plates shoved into his hands.

They worked in silence for as long as it took, stood side by side, the only sound in the room that of the water running and the distant hum of the TV. - Well, distant for Stiles, Derek could hear perfectly well the Packers were in the lead.

When they packed away the last dish, Stiles lead Derek out into the hallway. He glanced into the den to find the Sheriff sleeping peacefully on the lounger. Derek smiled to himself, the fleeting memory of his grandfather doing the same thing while he and Thomas curled up like exhausted puppies at his feet. He swallowed back the thickness of tears and turned to grab his jacket, ready to leave.

His hand was halfway to the leather when Stiles stopped him, his own hand light on Derek's arm.

"Wait."

Derek looked up at the boy, who stood on the first step staring at him pleadingly. "Huh?"

Stiles gave his sleeve a gentle tug until Derek lowered his arm. Then he was slowly lead up the stairs to Stiles room. A chill shot through Derek at the memory of the last time he'd been in Stiles room, when they'd been desperately trying to find him. When he'd found the chessboard. "Why was I king?" Derek blurted out unceremoniously, his gaze on the desk when they'd found it.

"Huh?" Stiles grunted, making himself comfortable on the edge of the bed.

Derek looked down at him, shaking his head. "Nothing. - Why am I here? Up here I mean." he folded his arms almost defensively over his chest. "Actually, why invite me at all?"

Stiles stared at him for a few long moments before dropping his gaze to his feet, his toes flexing in his socks. "Dad told me..." he breathed out a long sigh." Dad said you helped him find me. Said you didn't give up."

Derek shrugged. "The Nogitsune was dangerous, it had to be found."

Stiles looked up at him, hurt in his eyes. "Is that all it was?" he choked.

Derek swallowed, his heart skipping a beat at the question. "What else would it have been?" he countered, voice quiet.

"I don't know." Stiles sighed sadly, shrugging and slumping forward to lean heavily on his knees. "Thought maybe my knight in shining armour had returned." he whispered.

Derek inhaled sharply and when Stiles looked up, eyes wide with embarrassment it was clear he hadn't meant for Derek to hear that last part.

"Damn werewolves." Stiles grumbled angrily.

"I..." Derek started, pacing the small room. "I've been anyone's...knight in shining armour." he gritted out painfully. He stopped by the window, staring out at the dark empty street. So peaceful and calm, unlike his head.

"Right." Stiles sighed. "You weren't a knight, more like a Direwolf."

Derek stiffened, looking over his shoulder at Stiles.

"You know, the Stark wolves in Game of Thrones. Ready to die to protect their owners."

"You don't own me." Derek growled, though it felt like a lie.

Stiles groaned, dropping his gaze. "I didn't mean..." he shook his head, dragging his fingers through his hair warily. "I'm so tired." he whispered. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

"You should get some sleep." Derek said harshly, turning to head for the door. "Thanks for the..."

He was cut off by Stiles snagging his sleeve, stopping him. "Don't go." there was that pleading in Stiles voice again, cutting thought Derek like a knife. "Please."

Derek stared from the hand on his sleeve to Stiles' face, taking in the dark rings that still tainted his usually bright excited eyes. Surprisingly Stiles didn't withdraw his hand, like it would usually do, but rather tightened his grip, as if scared that Derek would pull away and leave him alone. "I... - I don't think your father would be too happy with me if I stayed."

Stiles rolled his lips together, dropping his gaze, if not his hand. "He already thinks there's something going on between us."

Derek's eyes widen with horror and panic. "What?" he said a little too loud.

"Chill, I told him there wasn't." Stiles reassured, his worried lip curling with amusement. "Told him you were just stalking me like some weird creeper."

"What?" he growled.

Stiles laughed brokenly, tugging on Derek's sleeve, trying to draw him closer. "Relax sourwolf, jeez. I told him we were just friends, have been since I was nine." he swallowed thickly. "I told him about you saving me from Jackson back in middle school. That we've been looking out for each other ever since."

"Have we?" Derek asked, uncertainly.

"Haven't we?" Stiles challenged. "I don't just save anyone from drowning you know." he smirked.

"Yes you would. That's the kind of kid you are." Derek argued.

Stiles hand finally dropped away. "Kid, huh?" he grumbled, fold his hands in his lap. "I haven't been a kid in a long time." he informed regretfully. "Even before I was risking my life fighting monsters, I had to grow up fast."

Derek stood silently. What could he possibly say to that? Even at nine Stiles had seemed so much older than everyone else, especially Cora. He hadn't really given a thought back then as to why, but now it all seemed so clear. Losing his mom, his dad working to pay the medical bills and keep a roof over their heads. Stiles had been forced to fend for himself. Was it any wonder really that he'd clung onto Derek, the only person who'd stepped up to save him?

Derek approuched the bed cautiously, lowering himself down next to Stiles. "Thank you." he whispered.

Stiles looked at him, frowning. "For?"

"Everything. - You've done so much for me, and the others over the past few years and I don't think any of us have ever taken the time to actually thank you for it." he knocked his shoulder gently against Stiles. "So, thank you."

A wave of embarrassment, tinged with happiness and contentment rolled off Stiles to play at Derek's senses. The knot that had been in his gut all day slowly unwound itself.

"And for returning McFloppyFlop to me." Derek added after a few long silent seconds. "I thought he'd been destroyed in the fire."

Stiles flushed. "He almost was. I found him while looking into the fire, he was stuffed in an evidence bag in the sheriff's station." he shrugged nonchalantly.

Derek narrowed his eyes at him. "What took you so long to return it? If you've had him since I came back."

Stiles grunted, shrugging. "I don't know. Wasn't sure you'd want it. - It was just some silly stuffed toy an annoying kid gave you a lifetime ago." he looked up at him nervously. "Did you...keep...all of them?"

Derek smiled softly, meeting his warm brown eyes. "Every last one." he huffed.

"Oh." Stiles gasped, swallowing thickly. "W-why?"

"I don't know." Derek whispered. "Because they were kinda our thing."

"Our thing?" Stiles gapped. "We had a thing?"

"I guess."

Stiles dragged his tongue across his lower lip, and Derek couldn't help but watch it. The scent of contentment and happiness twisted and sharpened into something much more primal and Derek felt his chest tightened with it, his blood racing and his wolf lifting its snout in interest.

"Derek?" Stiles breathed, the sound part way between a prayer and a plea, which Derek just couldn't resist.

Without even meaning to, Derek swayed forward, closing the gap between them until their lips met in a soft chaste kiss. It didn't last long, a few seconds, but to Derek if felt like hours, years. - A lifetime. He pulled away reluctantly, his hand cradling Stiles jaw.

Stiles eyes fluttered open, staring up at him half lidded, his lips curving up into a satisfied grin. "Hey, why'd you stop?" he demanded, swaying forward once more.

Derek pulled back, keeping out of reach. "You need sleep."

"Uh?" Stiles frowned.

Derek shoved at his shoulder, forcing him towards the bed. "You catch up on your sleep, then, if you still want this...we'll...discuss it."

Stiles stared at him bewildered. "Discuss?"

"You're not even 17 yet Stiles, and your father's the sheriff."

Stiles grinned, falling back against the covers. "You're scare of my dad?"

Derek looked down at him like he'd grown a second head. "I just spent the last few hours telling him how to kill werewolves, damn right I'm scared of your dad." he scoffed.

Stiles laughed, smiling dopily. As he shifted over against the wall and making space beside him, the smile faded and Derek got the overpowering scent of fear. "Can you stay?" Stiles whispered. "Just keep me company."

Derek inhaled deeply, the scent clinging to every corner of the room. He nodded and sat, toeing off his boots and stretched out above the covers, his back pressed against the wooden headboard. "Sleep."

Stiles smiled and the fear dissipated. "Thanks, Direwolf."

Derek growled at the name.

"Don't like that huh?" Stiles hummed sleepily, his eyes struggling to stay open. He laughed suddenly, lifting his finger to poke at Derek's top lip. "How about... The Rabbit of Caerbannog." he wrinkled his nose and showed his front teeth in the way he always used to do.

Derek narrowed his eyes at him, slapped his hand away and shifted down to lay next to him. "Only you could get away with that." he whispered, carding his fingers though Stiles' hair.

Stiles smiled. "Why?"

"That's what I've been trying to figure out for almost a decade."

"Maybe it's because you love Me." he teased, jokingly.

Derek didn't laugh, didn't grin, he just watched Stiles fight against his exhaustion. His heart racing at the realisation that it could very well be the truth. "Go to sleep. Stiles." he leant forward, pressing a kiss to Stiles lips. "Or I may be forced to unleash my vicious streak."

"Is it a mile wide?" Stiles muttered, slowly drifting off.

Derek lay watching Stiles sleep, and for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace again.

A/N: Sorry for the crappy ending but my brain kind of froze up and I've got a busy next few weeks, so I wanted to get this posted. Hope you enjoy it anyway. Thanks for reading, reviews are always welcome and appreciated.