Aloyoshenka. His Papa’s name and his Papa’s before him. The esteemed family named bestowed to each first born son in his mother’s family.
That was the last time anyone had ever called him that. It was the last time he’d ever allowed anyone to call him that. He wanted to preserve it in his memory; the way a slight hint of accent would roll out over the syllables, her proud smile, the twinkle in her eye as she looked at him.
He’d adopted a nickname from his last name, used that to introduce himself to everyone, got his father to start calling him that when he’d cover his ears and shout before he could even get ‘Aloy’ out.
She’d made him promise to watch after his father, to make sure he didn’t over do it. So he took to watching what his father ate, made sure to keep the supernatural away from him, made sure to keep him safe.
As the memory faded away, Stiles remembered one thing even clearer than her saying his name. He never did see her the next day.
The next time he saw her, she was in a coffin.
Stiles fidgeted his uncontrollable finger and thumb rolling and unrolling the hem of his shirt, his eyes searching through the throngs of people moving around him. He shot a quick look at the monitors that once again told him the flight was early, but Stiles had been here for the last forty five minutes, long before the monitor read that the flight was about to land so there was no way he’d missed him.
He was thirsty, but he’d finished his water, his nerves not letting him keep it for longer than necessary, and there was no way he was moving now. Surely he’d collected his baggage by now so what was – the door opened, and tanned and tired looking, Stiles’s husband, the man he married a year and three days ago, the man who went away a year ago, stepped past the barriers, heavy camouflage bag slung over his shoulder.
Derek looked terribly handsome, his short hair, his worn fatigues, his curious eyes searching the crowd. Stiles hoped he got to look for just a few seconds longer, before their eyes met. Derek’s smile was so wide Stiles felt like he needed UV protection for a few seconds. ‘Fuck it,’ he muttered, walking at first, but his feet travelled faster and faster and he was running when Derek caught him around the waist, lips locking together and arms banded tight around each other. Derek lifted Stiles slightly and Stiles bent his head to kiss his husband.
Around them applause and cheers broke out, a few people even wolf whistled, and there was a single howl, because the Wolf Unit was behind their captain, but the general public were cheering them on too. Stiles’s cheeks flushed as they pulled apart.
‘Hi.’ Derek said settling him on his feet.
‘Hi.’ Stiles said pressing his forehead to Derek’s.
‘Jesus I can’t wait to get you home.’ Derek swore kissing Stiles again.
‘We’re not going home because there’s interfering friends and family there who want to see you and I said no, you’re mine for the next four days so there’s a hotel suite with enough condoms and lube there to supply an army.’ Stiles said. ‘I can be selfish, right.’
‘I think I can get on board with that.’ Derek muttered, bending to lift the bag he’d abandoned to catch Stiles. He wrapped his other arm around Stiles and together they walked outside into the San Francisco sunshine. ‘I love the shirt.’
Stiles looked down and back at Derek with a smile on his face. ‘I love you.’ He replied. Derek tightened his grip as they walked towards the parking lot.