"I know you did," he breathes out. Because he does, he gets it. So much death has followed Derek that it seemed easier, safer, if he'd just left. So he gets it, but that didn't mean he would have been happy with it. "And I'm glad you didn't want to, I'm glad you didn't leave."

Stiles tilts his head up against the nuzzling, letting out a quiet sigh as he feels stubble scrape gently along his jaw and cheek. He slides his hands up under Derek's shirt, fingers splayed along his back, pressing into warm skin.

And for the moment he just takes it in; the press of Derek against him, the warmth of his body along his own, how he feels under his hands and feels his eyes close as he memorizes this moment.