Six Feet Under | Sterek

sixteen;

Derek doesn't complain about Stiles's music choices.

Instead, the werewolf just taps his fingers along to the beat and keeps quiet as Stiles shouts along to each song, trying to be louder than the voice in his head that says he should go home. He doesn't want to go home. He drives with the windows down and he listens to the same CD's on repeat, and he knows that when Derek is looking at his phone, he's reporting back to someone at Beacon Hills, but somehow Stiles doesn't care.

He doesn't care. He doesn't get tired of driving, and he doesn't get tired of Derek's quiet company, and he feels free. He's the bird his mother used to talk about, because he's broken himself now but he can fly faster than anyone else and that's probably the best thing that's happened to him for a long time.

There are days where he's quiet and the music makes his skin itchy and Derek just lets him drink the alcohol, because Stiles hates feeling the burn of tears and wants to feel the burn of something else instead. He doesn't complain when Derek gently tells him to pull over, and then swaps them so that Stiles is curled up in the passenger side of the car. Derek drives as if he has a destination in mind, and Stiles lets him and watches the trees becomes coloured smudges against the window. 

It those days where he turns the music up. He hates it, and it makes him angry, but being angry is better than being sad and Derek doesn't say anything when Stiles yells at the empty road with tears in his eyes. 

It takes almost two weeks before Stiles starts talking.

"I want to go to a music festival," he says over the music, and Derek blinks those pretty eyes. He doesn't respond, but Stiles has had enough of the screaming silence. "I want to go and be stupid and not think about werewolves for a while."

Derek says nothing again, but Stiles talks and talks and talks until he gets tired and Derek takes up driving instead. He finds that he doesn't drink when he talks, so he wears on his vocal chords and Derek smiles and you know what, it's pretty damn close to perfect.

He goes to sleep, and he dreams of his mother's voice and angry thunder and lightning that's the same colour as Derek's gemstone eyes. When he wakes up, they're in a small town he doesn't recognise and Derek is looking cautiously proud. "There's a music festival on tonight," the werewolf says quietly, and Stiles doesn't know how the fuck Derek found and drove to a music festival in one night.

He also doesn't care, just jumps out of the car with an excited shout. 

"I want a flower crown," he tells Derek, feeling happy for the first time in fuck knows how long. "And I want to wear something flowy. What do you think? Jeans and one of those poncho shirts? And I think I might get some Henna tattoos. Ooh, you reckon they do piercings here? I want some piercings."

On and on he goes, jabbering away to a silent Derek but Stiles doesn't care about responses when he finds the market stalls. He buys some new clothes first - some neat looking multi-coloured boots, a light up flower crown and a tie-died shirt that's too big for him. Stiles offers the woman who gives him the items a huge grin and she smiles back and wow Stiles forgot about positive human interaction.

He gets changed straight away and makes Derek go and get him an ice-cream, and then he spends a chunk of money getting Henna tattoos all over his body. He talks to the woman, who's name is Storm, and she tells him stories about running away and birds who can't fly and broken youth who find solace in other broken teens. Stiles gets emotional, and she hugs him tightly enough to remind him of Melissa.

He does, in fact, get a piercing. It's an ear piercing, and he gets a purple stud that glimmers in the light because Stiles likes colourful things which is why he thinks he falls in love with the music festival before it even begins.

Derek stays silent and faithful through it all and lets Stiles talk and talk and talk. 

When the music starts, Stiles is high on the feeling of being free, and he sways along to the beat. There aren't many people, but Stiles gets up and he dances with anyone and everyone anyway. They twirl and spin and laugh until they're sick and Stiles can't remember the last time he's felt this light and happy and carefree.

He dances with a girl called Mystie, who has a girlfriend, and they talk while they dance and Stiles is reminded that friendship isn't supposed to take, take, take from you. Mystie is gentle but her love is fierce, and seeing her smile at her girlfriend makes something in Stiles hurt. He wants to be looked at like that. He wants to be special to someone.

A hand touches his shoulder, and he startles. "Whassup tough guy?" He asks Derek, who looks sheepish.

A handful of bracelets is shoved in his face. "I saw these," Derek says awkwardly and Stiles gently takes the offered bands. "I thought you might like them."

And oh, Stiles loves them. He gets Derek to help put them on, and he laughs until he nearly cries and then he wraps his arms around Derek's neck and hugs him as though the world is ending. "Thank you," he says, and Derek says something he doesn't hear and then they're dancing to the music that never stopped and Stiles thinks that maybe someone does look at him like he's precious.

They dance and dance and dance, and when Stiles wakes up in the passenger side of the Jeep, he still has the bracelets on and he doesn't take them off and he sings along quietly as Derek drives them into the unknown.

He thinks he's found his new home.