This was written on tumblr for a drabble prompt with After the Storm by Mumford and Sons as the inspiration
And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Stiles knew about the whole Kate incident.
They never talked about it. Why would they? It had happened ages ago.
But then again, so did Stiles' mom dying. And that still effected him plenty.
Every September second he'd walk out into the woods with his dad, a red checked blanket, and a basket full of her favorite lemon poppy seed muffins. They'd sit under the trees and just talk. About the summer, plans for school and the next year. Sometimes if they were lucky there would be wild apples.
Wild apples always tasted better to Stiles then the store bought ones. Sweeter, juicer. Like they had a purpose.
They never actually talked about her. Once Stiles mentioned it and his dad was quiet for a long time before standing and asking if he wanted to go on a walk.
Stiles never brought up her name again. The looks in his dads eyes had broken his heart.
This September he came to the woods by himself. He hadn't asked dad where he was going instead. It was pretty obvious. He had been wearing a dress shirt and cologne. And new pants.
So Stiles went to the bakery and bought half the normal amount of muffins and got halfway down the street before turning back and buying the rest of the dozen. He'd give the leftovers to his dad tonight.
So now he was sitting in their normal spot, sun dapples shining around him like they had for years, glancing off the pond beside him. Everything was calm, and quiet.
Stiles shut his eyes and let himself feel. The rough bark digging into his back through his thin cotton shirt, the sound of the brids trilling in the uppermost branches of an aspen to his right, the aspens leaves themselves rustling quietly, yet louder than anything else in the space around him.
He breathed in through his nose and exhaled slowly through his mouth, tension melting away.
"What are you doing here?" A rough voice demanded and Stiles shot up from his place nestled between two tree roots. He, of course, tripped and was sent flailing into Derek's arms. Because of course it was Derek.
Stiles looked up and struggled away from him, clearing his throat awkwardly and feeling the wetness on his cheeks that he hadn't noticed before. The tear tracks were cold. He scrubbed at them and cleared his throat again.
"Derek! Hi! I was just- uhm- having a picnic! It's the last day before school and I figured, 'why not?' right? Because school is really going to stuck so I might as well-"
Only his dad and Derek were able to silence him with a look. The difference was his dad didn't abuse the power.
"You were crying." That was Derek, blunt and to the point. No lollygagging and beating around the bush for him.
"Yeah." Stiles looked down, a force of habit for when ever his carefree mask slipped. A final defense for when all the others broke down.
Derek sat on the picnic blanket. Stiles sat down beside him.
Derek reached out and took a muffin.
Stiles smiled as he watched him eat it, the top first, then unpeeling the paper around the base.
It was stupid to think that he remembered how she ate her muffins, but he had a feeling it was the same way.