Months had gone by. Months without seeing his face, hearing his voice, smelling his earthy and musky werewolf human scent that Stiles placed somewhere between sandalwood and wet dog.

He didn’t even like him. Derek Hale was an annoying and bossy alpha that didn’t know what he was doing. He’d be thrust into a role that he never expected to attain at the worst possible time and he handled it badly. Not that Stiles could say much more for himself but he’d scored quite a few goals during that lacrosse match he was tossed into last minute.

Now he was gone. Not even Scott had caught a whiff of him for the longest time and Stiles felt his skin crawl with anxiety. There was no one to tell him he wasn’t needed, no one to throw him up against a wall, no one to threaten to leave dying on the side of the road only to get bullied into possibly sawing off that someone’s limb, no one to challenge him.

Scott was his best friend, for life, for as long as he could remember. He was there for him and he took the balls Stiles threw as hard as he could across the field at him any time Stiles got himself worked up. But there was something missing that Scott couldn’t give him…

It came to the point where Stiles would go for long walks in the woods on his own, a thought deep in his mind that he would never admit to having kept urging him on. “Maybe Derek will magically show up in front of you. Like the first day you met him.”

Only weeks passed and Derek didn’t show up. Stiles sat in the woods on a rock, carving away absentmindedly at a rock with his pocket knife and not once did Derek Hale saunter by with his brooding quality that Stiles may or may not have found attractive once or twice.

…

“Stiles.” Was all he said the first moment they saw each other in the woods, where Stiles constantly found himself waiting for hours. Derek probably smelled Stiles all around the clearing, considering how often the boy ended up sitting here, throwing rocks at the target on the tree he’d carved to pass the time.

Stiles blinked at him when he turned around. Truth be told, he heard him coming first. As stealthy as Derek was, any time he was around… Stiles’ hair stood on end, he got a feeling in his stomach, the deities themselves alerted him of Derek’s presence… well probably not that but he knew he was there and he’d testify to that.

He’d turned his body around on the large rock he’d been sitting on long enough to make his butt checks numb to the point where he wouldn’t risk standing up and looking like more of an idiot than usual.

Stiles simply stared at Derek, who stared back at him. Eyes locked and Stiles didn’t try to convince himself that Derek couldn’t hear his heart beating a mile a minute. Instead he glanced down at the stone gripped tightly in his hand. Over the months he’d successfully carved an incredibly visible “I miss you” into the rock. Now he clutched it, glancing between the rock and the man, both of which he knew he cherished but sacrifices had to be made… on both ends.

It had been months. Stiles arm rose without his full awareness.

Derek’s lip curled up, flashing his fangs as a warning. “Stiles, I swear if you-“

Thunk. The rock his him square in the forehead even though he probably had enough time to dodge. Stiles wasn’t fazed by the deadly glare he was receiving, he simply stood up, played off the limp he possessed from his very asleep ass by brushing off his pants, and started walking away.

“Serves you right, sourwolf.”

Stiles didn’t hear any protests, only the soft footsteps as Derek followed him home.