16. Happiness

Stiles was determined to dismiss Sir Peter’s visit from his mind, but unfortunately his mind was not so cooperative as to abide to his wishes.  Late into the night he found himself tossing and turning in bed, wondering again at the impetus for Sir Peter’s visit.

The idea that rumors of an engagement between himself and Mr. Derek Hale were so widespread as to reach the ear of Sir Peter!  Stiles could feel his cheeks heating up just to contemplate it.  What if such rumors had reached Derek’s ears as well?  What if he even thought that Stiles was the cause?  Could Derek possibly think that Stiles was so presumptuous as to be intimating to others that he still held Derek’s affection?  Stiles was mortified at the very thought of it.

By the time dawn broke, Stiles had given up on sleep.  He dressed before the rest of his family had awoken, and set out to walk off some of his agitation before Melissa could chide him for overexerting himself.  The morning was beautiful — crisp and dewy, fog still thick on the ground but the air clear and bright.  Stiles walked for some distance, down the lane and along the road toward town, before he stopped to rest, leaning up against a small retaining wall to catch his breath.

When he heard the clatter of hoofbeats he levered himself up to sit on the wall, out of the way in case the rider could not see him in the last traces of mist.

The horse thundered by, but had only passed a short distance beyond when it slowed, wheeling around in a elegant demi-pirouette before cantering back.

To Stiles’ astonishment, it was Derek atop the magnificent horse, looking almost as surprised to see Stiles as Stiles was to see him.

“Derek?” Stiles said, hopping down from the wall to grasp the horse’s harness.  “Is all well?”

Derek dismounted gracefully.  His eyes — even more beautiful than Stiles had remembered, with those expressive multi-colored irises — seemed to examine Stiles’ face intently.

“Yes,” Derek said after a long pause, as if just remembering that he had been asked a question.  “At least — I hope that it is.  I was on my way to Netherfield, to stay for a while, in hopes of coming to visit you at Beacon House.”  A blush pinkened Derek’s cheeks.  “At a more decent hour for visiting, I mean.”

“To visit me?”  Stiles felt his heart leap in his chest.  “Why?”

Derek’s mouth twisted with frustration.  “Stiles, I know that you are too generous to trifle with me,” he began, his voice rough with some emotion.  He grasped Stiles’ hand, enfolding it in his own.  “I spoke with Uncle Peter last night, and what he related to me has awoken a hope I have scarcely allowed myself before.”  

He pressed Stiles’ hand to his chest, holding it flat between the layers of his coat and shirt with his own warm hand, until Stiles could feel the thumping of Derek’s heart beneath his palm.  “My heart is unchanged since I last asked you to be mine.  If your feelings are as well, you only have to say one word and silence me forever.  If, however —”

And Stiles could stand it no longer — he darted forward, silencing the rest of Derek’s words with a clumsy, unpracticed kiss.  

For an instant Derek’s lips were still with surprise beneath his own, but it was only a moment before his shocked intake of breath was released on the most delicious, soft little noise of entreaty.  He lunged forward, deepening the kiss, his arms coming up to encircle Stiles even as he pressed him up against the retaining wall with the bulk of his body.

Derek kissed Stiles as if he wanted to devour and savor him at the same time, his mouth hungry and hot against Stiles’ own even as the muscles in his back bunched with restraint beneath Stiles’ hands.  Stiles lost himself in the feel of Derek’s soft lips, the leather-gloved hands cradling his face, the incredible warmth of Derek’s body pressed so close against him.  

Derek traced his lips to the edge of Stiles’ jaw, and then placed sucking little bites down the line of his neck, growling in approval as Stiles threw his head back to better bare the expanse of tender skin to Derek’s mouth.

“Tell me,” he rasped, capturing Stiles’ mouth in a lush, clinging kiss before he had a chance to respond.  “Tell me.”

Stiles found himself distracted again, licking and nipping at Derek’s mouth as he drew back, diving in again to coax another kiss from him before he managed to draw breath and remember himself.

“I’m yours,” Stiles said plainly.  “I have been for —” And that was as far as he got before Derek was kissing him again, soft and deep, rumbling with happiness.  

Derek finally pulled away only enough to bury his face in the crook of Stiles’ neck, breathing in his scent.  “Mine,” he repeated softly, his voice reverent and awed.

“As you are mine.”  Stiles drew in a shaky breath.  “I’ve been such a fool,” he admitted.  “From the start, I let my injured pride blind me to your true character — ignoring everything I felt for you.  Only when it was clear how wrong I had been, was I able to admit to myself that I had been falling in love with you all along.”  Stiles lifted a trembling hand, cradling Derek’s jaw, as if he could convince himself that Derek was real with the rasp of stubble against his palm.  “And then I thought I had lost you forever.”

Of their own volition Stiles’ fingers traced to the nape of Derek’s neck, tugging on the short hairs there as he pulled Derek forward.  They kissed fiercely, their tongues tangling, both of them desperate with the thought of what they almost lost.  Finally Derek gentled the kiss, indulging Stiles for long moments more before he broke away, brushing their kiss-swollen lips together in one more chaste contact as if he could hardly bear to be apart.

“My feelings never changed,” Derek confided.  “But you were right.  I leave destruction in my path.  The death of my family was only the beginning.  And as much as I tried to protect you from it, I only put you in greater danger.  I thought after all that Kate did, you would hardly be able to bear the sight of me.”

“You idiot.”  Stiles pressed his forehead to Derek’s, as if he could will the force of his conviction into the man’s thick skull.  “You remind me only of the cruelty of my words, and the ignorance from which they sprang.  If it is foolish to have been duped by Kate Argent then I am equally so, because she had me fooled as well, and it was only your warning that put me on my guard toward her.  The destruction wrought was by her, and you are no more guilty than any of her victims.”

“I hope I may someday come to believe that,” Derek said softly.  “But if your feelings changed so long ago, why did you give no sign?”

Stiles shook his head.  “How could I ask you to propose marriage a second time, after having so cruelly dismissed you the first?  I thought your love for me had been extinguished by my abominable behavior, and hoped to make myself content with your friendship.”

“We have wasted so much time,” Derek complained.  “You could have come to me at any moment and asked me to set the date, and I would have leaped to do so.”  

Stiles also mourned the hours of happiness lost, but could not be entirely dissatisfied with any chain of events that had resulted in this moment of transcendent contentment, here in Derek’s arms.  

He kissed Derek again simply because he was allowed to do so, sampling his mouth tenderly, his chest feeling near to bursting with the joy welling up inside him.  Relief made his usual playful demeanor reassert itself, and he could not resist teasing.  “Well, I had it on good authority that your good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.”

Derek snorted.  “I would be an idiot to let my damnable pride keep me from what I most desire.”

“And what is that?” Stiles raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“Your happiness,” Derek said easily, his expression open and sincere.  “And, in granting it, my own.”

And Stiles couldn’t help rewarding that pretty speech with another kiss, this one slow and lazy, ending with a saucy little nip to Derek’s lower lip.

“And how about you?”  The quirk of Derek’s mouth showed that he was teasing Stiles in return, and Stiles could admit to himself that he found that expression devastatingly attractive.  “I had it on good authority,” Derek continued, a mischievous glint in his eye,  “that I was the last man in the world that you could ever be prevailed upon to marry.”

Stiles groaned, burying his face against Derek’s neck to hide his blush.  “You’re going to hold those words against me forever, aren’t you?”

“If you’ll allow me to,” Derek replied, holding Stiles close.  “It would be my greatest pleasure.”