They use the old Hale property because it's secluded, because no one will see them there. They are still trying to figure out what they are to each other, well, other than phenomenally, and magnetically attracted to one another, and it's easier to get a grip on that when they are completely alone.
Stiles' jeep rolls up to the old house, and as soon as he cuts the engine, he's jumping out of the car.
"You're late," Derek states gruffly, walking towards him from where he was leaning against his Camaro, waiting.
"I know. I'm sorry. I was waiting for my dad to leave, but he couldn't find his keys, so I was helping him look, and-"
Derek moves forwards, shutting Stiles up by crashing their lips together, his hands going to Stiles' hips, gripping possessively. Stiles returns the kiss with everything he's got, his hands going, well, everywhere. They're on Derek's cheeks, in his hair, around his waist, running up his back, his sides, ghosting over his hips like they can't decide where to rest, because they want to touch every single inch of the other man.
The kisses, the touches, they're hot and desperate, because while they saw each other at a pack meeting just a few hours ago, they haven't been alone in three days, and it's been killing both of them.
Derek backs Stiles against a tree, and he wants to tie him there, keep him forever, away from the rest of the world, but he knows that he can't. He knows that they only have a couple of hours at most, so he vows with his hands and lips, but not words, to make the most of that time.
Stiles reaches out, pushing the leather jacket from Derek's shoulders, neither of them caring as it falls to the ground at their feet. He grips at Derek's grey shirt, clinging to fistfuls of the soft, familiar material. His breath hitches when Derek's hand slips under his t-shirt, fingers splaying over Stiles' side. It's like every touch, every kiss contains enough electricity to power a small town, and it's definitely enough to kick Stiles' entire being into overdrive, taking Derek right along with him.
In one swift motion, Derek rids Stiles of his top, plaid over shirt and all, and has him back up against the tree in no time. As Derek's lips move to his throat – to kiss, to resist heavily the urge to mark this boy as his – Stiles tilts his head back to allow Derek easier access. He doesn't care that the bark is pressing into his back, digging into his skin. He reaches out, tugging weakly at Derek's shirt, whining wordlessly for it to just go away. When it does, Stiles' hands grab for Derek, pulling him in close, kissing him deeply, passionately, aggressively.
Derek slams his hips against Stiles', and the teenager moans, loud and sinful, his mouth hanging half open as Derek's lips go to his jaw. Stiles' hands move, fingers hooking through the belt loops on Derek's jeans, pulling him closer, needing everything, extreme closeness, total fucking unity, as their lips come back together.
Stiles is only 17. That's why they have to be here, out in the woods where no one can see them, where no one can call Derek out for being with a teenager, with a high schooler. They aren't having sex, not full on, not yet, but they both know that the world wouldn't understand that, they wouldn't get that Derek loves Stiles, and that all of this stems from mutual pain and need. The world wouldn't understand that all of this started a couple of months ago when the pack almost lost Stiles to the nogitsune, and Derek realized that he couldn't risk waiting any longer to tell the young man how he's felt for the last year, that if he waited too long, he might never get the chance.
Stiles received the confession of Derek's love with a pounding heart and a hurried verbal reciprocation before lips crashed together for the first time, sealing the start of a temporarily forbidden romance.
The two men are so lost in each other that they don't notice a late night jogger enter their territory.
Danny stops short when he sees Stiles' jeep, because everyone in Beacon Hills knows who that car belongs to, and it's late. Too late for Stiles' jeep to be in the woods near the remnants of the Hale house. He doesn't recognize the jet black Camaro parked a few feet away from the jeep, but when he looks just a little bit to the left, he very much recognizes the tattoo on the back of the man who currently has stiles Pressed up against a tree, releasing the most depraved, porn-star quality moans that Danny has ever heard outside of his computer speakers. He has to mentally prevent himself from putting Stilinski in his spank bank for later, a task made moderately more simple when he places the incredibly familiar triskelion tattoo on the other man.
It's Stiles cousin.
Miguel.
Danny keeps what he saw to himself, knowing that saying a word to just one person could damn Stiles to an eternity of torment from his peers, and possibly the entire town. It's not a large town, after all, and something like that? It could rock the foundations of Beacon Hills, especially since lately, everything has been eerily normal.
A couple of days later, though, Stiles approaches Danny in the locker room after lacrosse practice.
They're the only two people left in the room. Danny was taking his sweet time, a long, relaxed shower, since the water is out at his house. After a leisurely process, he finally gets out and pulls on his jeans, only to be confronted by a fully dressed Stiles, and it's pretty clear that the other man has been waiting for him.
"Hey, Danny, I was wondering if I could get some advice?" Stiles asks.
"Oh, yeah. Sure." Danny nods.
"Great, awesome. It's just I really want to take it to the next level, you know? I want to pick up the pace a little, or a lot, really, and I thought maybe you could help?"
A smile spreads across his face, and he nods.
"Yeah, okay, well the key to great sex is communication. Now with situations like yours, you have to talk to the guy, make sure that he knows you're ready. If you want to kick it up a notch, and it's not happening naturally, it might be because he's not sure you're ready. I mean, you've been pretty public about the fact that you're a virgin, so that might be a nervous factor for him."
Stiles looks at Danny, shocked, confused, his mouth hanging open, but Danny just carries on, figuring that Stiles just wasn't expecting him to be so blunt.
"Now a lot of people assume that there's just the one way for us, that it's doggie style or nothing, but that's not true. Sure, that can be great, if that's what both people want, but if you really care about someone – and I think this is the best, to be honest – you can get face to face. It's better in so many ways, and you can kiss, it's far more intimate, and-"
"Danny, Danny, stop." Stiles finally gets his composure back, and interrupts. "Jesus Christ, I wanted advice on lacrosse. I want to maybe start at some point, you know, first line, and I just wanted to ask for tips, how I could maybe achieve that goal, or if I'm just a lost cause!"
"Oh…oh god." Danny's eyes widen.
"I thought that…because I'm gay, you'd want…and you were all hot and heavy the other night, I was running in the woods, I saw you, I didn't spy, not long, I promise. I thought you saw me, maybe you wanted advice."
"Danny, what are you talking about?" Stiles asks, though he knows exactly what Danny's talking about.
He was with Derek in the woods the other night, but he doesn't want that information with anyone else. That's his and Derek's secret. He doesn't want it getting around, it's too soon. It would ruin everything, and this is the first good thing that he has had going for him in a long time.
"Stiles, it's okay," Danny says softly, looking at him. "I'm not going to sell you out, I know that a lot of people would think it's weird, or wrong, but I mean, his name's Miguel, which heavily suggests an ethnic component that clearly couldn't be too close to you in the family tree, and people marry their cousins all the time, especially fourth cousins and on, so…"
Okay, well now Stiles is genuinely confused, and not just playing a part. His cousin? Why the fuck is Danny talking about people marrying their cousins? Who the hell is Mig- oh.
"Oh my god, Danny, no." Stiles shakes his head. "He's not…he's not my cousin, Jesus Christ, that was a lie."
At this point, it is pretty clear that Danny definitely saw him with Derek, and it's clear that what Danny saw wasn't just innocent chatting, and while he doesn't want Danny knowing any of this, he'd rather have him know the truth than have him suspect that Stiles is hooking up with his cousin in the woods at night.
"Oh." Danny frowns. "Well then…who is he?"
"He's…" Stiles bites his lip. "His name is Derek."
"Well if he's not your cousin, why are you sneaking around the old Hale prop- oh my god, that's Derek Hale?" Danny asks, a lightbulb suddenly going on in his head.
"Yeah." Stiles reaches up, scratching the back of his neck.
"God, he's like 10 years older than us," Danny points out.
"Exactly." Stiles looks at Danny, his gaze imploring. "It's not what you think – I mean, I guess I don't know what you think, but it's…I really don't want anyone to know about this, Danny. He's older, it's not legal, and even though we're not having sex, we're waiting until I'm 18, my father would still just…obliterate him with a shotgun or something, and I-"
"Love him?" Danny asks.
"What?" Stiles tilts his head to the side, sinking down onto the bench next to Danny. "I mean, yeah, but…how…how did you know?"
"Some things are just obvious," Danny says with a shrug.
"Oh." Stiles nods.
"Does he love you back?" Danny asks.
"Yeah." Stiles doesn't hesitate, because he doesn't have to.
With Derek, there's no question about it, there's no wondering whether or not it's true, whether or not there's love. He can't lie, not to Stiles, not about this, and Stiles has never doubted him, because he has no reason to lie about it.
"He really, really does."
"Okay." Danny nods, pulling a shirt on over his head, and grabbing his bag. "Your secret's safe with me, Stilinski."
"Really?" Stiles looks up at him, rising slowly as he does so.
"Yeah. Of course. I don't know all of what's been going on with you and your friends lately, but with Allison, and Ethan, and…everything…" Danny trails off, knowing that now is not the time to reveal just how much he really does know. "Finding love can be the best thing to help make it out of tragedy alive. If you've found that, who am I to take that away from you?"
"Thank you, Danny," Stiles says softly. It's always been clear why everyone likes Danny, but right now, it's even more blatant.
"No problem." Danny shrugs. He heads for the door, but turns back a few feet later. "And about the lacrosse thing? I don't think you're a lost cause, you just lack focus. Take a few deep breaths before you make a move, assess if it's really the one you want to make, and if, after a few breaths, it still seems right, go for it. You do that long enough, and eventually, it'll just become instinct."
Danny leaves, and Stiles stands there for a few minutes, trying to get his head around the conversation that just happened.
When he's gained some of his faculties back, he grabs his phone, shooting a text to Derek.
Tonight. Same bat time, same bat channel.
He waits a few seconds for a response, which comes quickly. A short validation of his request in a code that he understands perfectly. It's not a yes or a no, not in so many words, but Stiles knows what it means. It's instinct.
I love you.
A/N Alright, so this is a gift for my best friend, who posted the prompt for this story on tumblr, asking for someone to write it, so I did! I actually had a really good time writing this, and I know it's very short, but it was a lot of fun, so I hope that you guys enjoy it, as well! And if you have any feedback, of course, let me know! Oh, and I just titled it the name of the song I was listening to when I started posting. (it's Sirens by Angels & Airwaves, and you should all go listen to it).