Prompt: Au in which stiles and Derek both have a full family and Stiles' family has a huge party and Derek's family is invited. As the night progresses they start hanging out because Derek just wants to hide and be away from everyone but Stiles just wants to be with Derek.

I'm missdizzyd on tumblr. I take prompts through my ask box there so feel free to come hang out. I may have got a little off track with this prompt but hey, I enjoyed it.

Dizzy xx

A Thousand Invitations

It's New Years Eve again. Stiles sighs and heads up to his room because seriously, this party is dragging on and on and people keep trying to talk to him about his plans for summer and what colleges he's looking at and tell him it's just a phase when he says he doesn't want to go to university. He'll regret it, he's wasting his intellect, he's throwing away a bright future, yada yada yada.

Stiles only feels a little bit guilty about leaving, slipping up to his room with a bottle of Jack to bring in the New Year alone. He knows who's downstairs and it's no one worth hanging around to kiss at midnight. Well, not unless he wants a slap shortly afterwards.

Every year, Stiles' mom and dad throw a huge New Years Eve party. All the Sheriff's deputies and their families are invited, plus a few of mom's friends from her book group, and the result is an overwhelming crush of people mingling in their really too small house. He used to love these parties, beg and plead with his mom to let him stay up until midnight and have a sip of her pink champagne. As he grew up, he began to resent being treated like the kid he was, stopped asking for champagne and grew more and more bitter every year when he was left alone at midnight.

Now, he realises there are much more important things than being kissed at midnight. Sure, it would be nice if it happened but... It won't.

No one will notice that he's gone, he reasons, because no one really cares anyway. And maybe he's a little drunk – so what? That's what New Years is for, anyway. Drinking until you forget how shitty life is; fool yourself into thinking whoever you kiss is your soul mate; wake up the next morning and realise that nothing has actually changed. Rinse and repeat, every single year until you die.

Stiles flops down onto his bed and takes another sip of his whiskey. It tastes vile and burns his throat when he swallows, but it's better than being sober right now.

Eighteen. Stiles is eighteen (so technically he shouldn't be drinking, especially not with the entire police department in his lounge but none of them are clear-headed enough to arrest him right now) and he's never been kissed. Not even a peck on the cheek during spin the bottle.

He takes a mouthful of his drink.

Maybe he is making a mistake, not going to college. He's always been clever and laser-focused when he concentrated on a project but... College never had the appeal that it seemed to hold for everyone else.

As Stiles wriggles on his bed, getting comfortable, he hears his door creak open. A groan escapes him and he lifts his head to see who it is.

"Sorry," a gruff voice mutters, "Was looking for an empty room." Hmm. Stiles recognises that voice, vaguely. Not in a you're-my-best-friend-so-I-know-your-every-inflection way. In more of a I-think-I've-heard-your-voice-around-town-way. He says as much, alcohol trashing whatever remained of his filter. "Derek. My sister's your dad's new deputy."

"Oh," Stiles replies, sitting up and beckoning the guy - Derek, apparently - over. "Laura Hale? She only joined in March, right? So this is your first party. Lucky you. I see you're enjoying it about as much as I am."

Derek makes an affirmative noise and sits on the bed next to Stiles, reaching out for the bottle. Stiles lets him take it and watches his Adam's Apple bob as he takes a gulp then grimaces. Derek wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and gives the bottle back, making a grateful noise.

"Not into parties?" Stiles asks, laying back down because it physically hurts to keep his head held up.

"No," he answers. Succinct, Stiles can work with that.

"Mine neither, too many people asking about college and shit, telling me I'm wasting my brain," he swooshes the whiskey around in the bottle and takes a swig, "As if going straight to work is something shameful. Like, please. I work in a library. I read stories to children. It's the best job in the world."

Derek hmm's in agreement and takes the bottle again.

They lie in silence as time passes, Stiles watching the clock on his dresser inch slowly towards midnight and Derek staring blankly at the ceiling. Eventually, the party downstairs migrates out into yard and Stiles rolls off the bed, crawls over to his window and leans against the sill to watch the fireworks. Derek follows more slowly, kneeling next to him with their elbows pressing together. It's strangely companionable, considering they've only just officially met and shared a maximum of eighty words.

"Not gonna kiss anyone?" Stiles asks, resting the side of his face on his arm and looking up at the other man. "Guy looking like you, you gotta have someone, right? Multiple someones."

"No," he answers tersely, glaring through the glass.

"No, me neither. Though that's less surprising," Stiles turns his gaze back to the sky, "Never been kissed at all, let alone on this one arbitrary night of the year when everyone seems to go crazy and/or horny for some reason."

He glances sideways, finding Derek staring at him like he's a Martian.

"Never been kissed?" He asked, voice hoarse.

"Nope, pure as the driven snow," he answers sourly, curling his lip and moving to drain the bottle. Derek stops him with a hand, his eyes darting to Stiles' mouth. Stiles licks his lips self consciously and every nerve in his entire body stands to attention. It's not a good idea. He knows that. He's had too much to drink for this to be anything but a terrible idea. But he wants it, in that moment, more than anything else in the world.

And hey, New Years Eve, right?

They both lean in at the same time, slow and hesitant, until Derek makes a small noise in the back of his throat, a moan, a whine... Something fantastic and perfect and vulnerable that makes Stiles burn with want. He licks and bites sloppily at Derek's bottom lip as he pulls away and gazes at the other man, mouth open and breath coming harsh and quick. Fuck. He just shared his first kiss with another person and it might well be the most perfect kiss he'll ever have. Only- no. Because then Derek leans in again and fucking ravishes Stiles' mouth.

They kiss through the fireworks. There's always next year, after all.