This is, easily, my most favourite romance book ever. Like… ever. I tend to call it the ‘asexual hipster romance’ when referring to it. In my opinion, this is really TJ Klune at his finest. It combines the two things that he can do really, really well: comedy and an uncanny ability to hit you right in the feels. Quick Synopsis: We have Gustavo Tiberius likely autistic guy who is grieving his father....
1.0 Stiles walks into the bathroom to pee and freezes when he sees his eyes glowing. Beta yellow. What the actual fuck? The problem? Stiles doesn’t remember being bitten. He knows it’s the full moon (he always keeps track of the moon phase). He’s been restless but he’d chalked it up to anxiety. His stomach starts churning and he feels trapped. Paralyzed. And now he watches his eyebrows disappear and feels the prick of his own claws....
Derek climbed into Stiles’ window. He froze because everything felt wrong. Stiles wasn’t sitting at his computer flipping through a million tabs. Or doing homework. Or playing videogames. No, he was lying in bed. Doing nothing. Still. Derek had never seen Stiles be so still. So used to Stiles’ frenetic energy. All flailing limbs and enthusiasm. Not to mention the smell in the room. It was heavy. None of the brightness Derek was used to....
Stiles found himself spending a lot of time with Derek. He would say that he didn’t know what changed, except that he did. It wasn’t surprising that he’d constantly seek out the one person able and willing to listen to him talk. It also helped both of them get much better at signing. There was a strange, unintended consequence: Derek was talking more. Turns out that he found it easier to communicate if he didn’t have to speak out loud....
Stiles tells people that he ‘used’ to have panic attacks. As if it were past tense. It isn’t. He still has them. He just learned how to have them quietly so that he wouldn’t worry his dad anymore. After his mom died and his dad lost himself to grief for a while, Stiles didn’t want to add anything more to his dad’s plate. So after he’d been pushed into therapy, he pretended that they went away....
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....
“Derek, are mates a thing?” “Yes.” “And…???” “Wolves can chose to mate, like humans chose to marry.” “So it’s not some kind of mystical moon destiny?” “Stop reading werewolf smut, Stiles.” “Shut up! But explain.” “Mating is a kind of magic. It requires intent and consent. So a wolf can’t mate a human unless they know what mating is. Especially since it’s for life.” “Is there some kind of sex ritual or whatever?...
Stiles groaned as he sat up in bed. He was in pain. Then again, he was almost always in pain. Today seemed like a five, so not too bad. He wouldn’t need one of the percocets sitting on his nightstand. Small victories, he supposes. He was, however, dizzy. Too dizzy. He glares at his walker, because of course today would be a walker day. Not like he’d planned on running a few errands....
Derek’s reading to him and Stiles is kind of drifting on the sound of his voice. They do this most nights. Stiles has always loved Derek’s voice. The way he looks, it’s always a surprise that he doesn’t have a deep, gravelly voice. It’s lighter. Smoother. It’s comforting and Derek’s surprisingly good at doing the voices. Also at being significantly more expressive than when he speaks. Derek usually reads to him while he’s cuddled up in some way....