Stiles once told Derek that sarcasm was his best defense.
He hadn’t been lying.
Problem was, that sarcasm wasn’t a really good defense against people (hunters) willing to torture ‘human traitors’, aka Gerard Argent.
All his life, Stiles had been told to ‘shut up’. To be quiet. That he was noisy and annoying.
All his life.
It was why Scott was his only friend.
Even Scott, though, got fed up once in a while. His dad too.
Stiles spent a lot of time wishing he could change. Trying (and failing) to change.
He just got really excited about a lot of things.
And he liked to share his excitement.
If only more people appreciated it.
Thing was…
Stiles was the message. He didn’t need to deliver it.
So when Gerard told him to shut up or he’d make him shut up, and Stiles kept right on talking, he’d delivered on his promise.
Stiles wasn’t ever going to talk again.
Stiles was angry. Of course, he was. His voice was a vital part of him.
He wasn’t like Derek – who might not even notice if his voice were taken away.
But he was also adaptable.
He made plans and did research.
Maybe he couldn’t speak but he wouldn’t be silenced.
Long term plan was to learn ASL. It would give him a way to talk in real time.
Short term plan was to use things like a white board or texting with his friends.
Short term because they were slow and hard to keep up with the flow of the conversations around him.
Required people to stop and look at what he was writing.
It was a good plan and he delved right into it.
Except…
No one else was willing to learn ASL. He still put effort into it, but it was with a lot less enthusiasm.
What was the point of learning a language no one else knew?
It might’ve been fine if his short term plan had been more successful.
Turns out…
Almost no one was willing to slow down so he could participate in conversations.
By the time he was done writing out a comment, the conversation had moved on.
Not that it mattered much since few of them even bothered to look at either the whiteboard or their phones.
The phone thing was especially annoying because they were teens! They were almost always on their phones. But they didn’t use the group chat he’d set up. Not to listen to him, not even for planning.
He basically stopped hanging out with the pack.
It was so frustrating to not be included.
It was hurtful and humiliating to realize that everyone was happier now that he couldn’t info dump or interrupt or whatever.
That they didn’t, ultimately, care about what he had to say.
Oh, sure, they were happy to listen when he was giving them research.
But he guessed it was mostly because he was typing up reports now that the couldn’t just tell them.
Maybe he could’ve dealt with it all more gracefully if his dad put any effort into it.
So far, he’d resisted Stiles’ suggestions to learn ASL. Saying he didn’t have time and was too old to learn a new language anyway.
Even his dad was happier with Stiles’ silence.
Stiles was depressed.
He knew it. It wasn’t the first time. Probably wouldn’t be the last.
But it was even worse than after his mom had died.
At least then he could share his grief with Scott.
(Not his dad, though, they never spoke about it. So maybe Stiles shouldn’t be surprised that his dad was happy enough now that Stiles couldn’t speak at all.)
He thought about dying a lot.
Derek was in his room.
What the fuck, Derek!? he signed.
“Why haven’t you been coming to the pack meetings?” Derek asked.
What do you care? I doubt anyone has noticed. Stiles replied.
“I noticed. I’m here, aren’t I?” Derek growled.
Stiles suddenly froze. Because he had been signing. And Derek was replying.
Derek knew what he was saying.
Since when do you know ASL? he asked.
“I started learning when you told everyone that you were. Isn’t that why you told us?” Derek looked confused.
Yes… but no one else has. Not my dad. Not Scott. Just you, apparently. Stiles didn’t know what to think about any of this.
Of all the people in his life, Derek was the last person he thought would bother learning ASL just so he could listen to Stiles.
Derek’s favourite thing to say to Stiles was ‘shut up’. Or just growl and say his name in a way that clearly communicated ‘stop talking before I rip your throat out with my teeth’.
Derek just shrugged, “You’re pack, Stiles.”
Like it wasn’t a big deal. Like it was obvious he’d learn a whole new language just so he could communicate with a pack member he didn’t even like.
But you don’t like me. I don’t understand. Stiles was flailing around a lot at this point.
“You’re pack, Stiles. And I do like you. I trust you. Plus, I won’t give Gerard the satisfaction of winning. Of silencing you. Your voice matters,” Derek said.
My mind is officially blown. You don’t even know. And Stiles wasn’t ashamed to admit that he started crying. Because fuck toxic masculinity. It was totally fine for guys to cry.
Derek stepped forward and one warm hand cupped Stiles’ face. A thumb brushing his tears away. There was a look so tender and caring in his eyes that it cracked Stiles open.
“Come to the next meeting. And I’m always happy to listen.”