Derek Hale was the toughest motherfucking director ever. He was a slave driver, only showing up to set long enough to make sure everyone was suitably miserable and cold and tired before disappearing again into his warm trailer. Stiles rubbed his arms fruitlessly with his hands, trying to get some warmth into them before he had to shoot the next scene.

"You look like you need this more than I do."

Stiles turned to the source of the voice, laced with humour and sympathy in equal measures. Isaac Lahey, Stiles' PA (god only knows how that happened) was holding out a styrofoam cup of coffee, drowned in a coat at least five sizes too big for him, a bashful smile on his innocent face. Stiles' face lit up as he made grabby hands at the cup of dark, bitter, slighty-too-hot-to-taste-great coffee, grinning widely at Isaac as he laughed and handed it to him.

"Thank you thank you thank you, Isaac, have I ever told you that you're my favourite ever? Don't tell Scott though, we've only just gotten over the 2-month puppy eyes because Allison smiled at me."

Stiles grimaced around the white cup. Scott, his best friend and co-star, had been lusting after the movie's makeup artist for weeks, before realising that she had liked Stiles more than him - and Lydia, their co-star, more than either of them. In the few weeks that Allison and Lydia had been publicly dating, Scott was surprisingly upbeat. Stiles suspected it had something to do with the golden-haired, angel-faced actual puppy PA standing in front of him. Isaac nodded, completely serious and oblivious to everything, other than his own painfully obvious crush on Scott.

"Have you seen Derek today? Dude looks pissed."

"Who wouldn't be? Spends five years making the most insane action movies ever, gets caught with the production company owner's sister and then relegated to make a John Hughes remake? He has every right to be pissed."

Stiles had known this, of course. Who didn't hear about Derek Hale and Kate Argent's torrid affair ending when Chris Argent, owner of Hunter Pictures, caught them going at it in Derek's trailer, and then going down in flames - literally - when Kate went psycho and burnt down Derek's family home. Luckily nobody had been home, but Derek's sister, Laura, still insists to Stiles that she could have been killed and he should be thankful every day that she's still alive and kicking to tease him about his unfortunate crush on a certain surly, stubbled director. Who just so happened to be her younger brother. Yeah. Not awkward. Especially not when she was his agent and had sent him to audition for this part in this specific movie, knowing her brother would be directing. Laura Hale was nothing if not a total bitch. And so Stiles was starring in a high-budget remake of the John Hughes movie, "Some Kind of Wonderful", as Keith, the slightly dorky, artsy, part-time mechanic lusting after the class siren Amanda Jones, played by the beautiful angel queen Lydia Martin, who Stiles had been in love with since they were 11 and starring together on Disney Channel. Erica Reyes, a relative newbie to the acting world, was making her big screen debut as Watts, Keith's tomboy best friend, who is completely unaware of her feelings for her best friend. Stiles had been shocked to get the part, despite his totally awesome acting and blinding good looks and charm, but nothing prepared him for Scott, puppy dog, potato brained, best friend Scott, scoring the part of Hardy, the total asshole rich guy dating Amanda Jones and plotting to beat the shit outta Keith.

It had been one of Stiles' mom's favourite movies, and he had only auditioned because it was the fifth anniversary of her death and his dad had looked so proud when he'd mentioned it. The Sheriff had never been entirely supportive of Stiles' career, but his natural talent and doe eyes weren't to be denied, and so, at 9 years old, Stiles had booked his first commerical, He had been in a few bad tv dramas and low-budget indie movies at first, and then moved up to the big leagues, guest-starring spots on shows like Gossip Girl and Degrassi, and finally, the Hollywood blockbusters. He was in his prime, aged 19, and he was about to make a shitload of money from this movie.

"NO! What the hell are you doing?! HAVE YOU NEVER KISSED ANYONE BEFORE?! IS THAT YOUR PROBLEM?!"

Derek Hale swept into the scene in a flurry of stubble and worn leather, planting himself firmly in front of Stiles and Erica. Stiles could feel his cheeks redden - of course he was talking to him, why would he be talking to Erica, she's so pretty and blonde and she was like an insanely good kisser ok, not that he was even really interested in girls anymore, Lydia excepted, oh God, Derek's face, right there, fuck, wait why is he shouting at Erica?

"You, are an amateur! IS THIS YOUR FIRST MOVIE OR WHAT? God, it is, isn't it, fuck, why the hell did they hire you?! It couldn't have been your fucking acting! Get out the way, I'll show you how to kiss someone!"

Stiles tensed as Erica stepped off of the set, sniffling and rubbing her eyes, watching Derek with a murderous look on her face. He heard Derek sigh and turned to face him, swallowing when Derek edged closer to him and placed his hands on Stiles' slim hips. Stiles looked at Derek, who sat on the car hood, mimicking Erica's position from a few seconds ago, not removing his hands from Stiles' hips. He drew Stiles closer to him, spreading his legs so he could stand between them. Stiles gulped as he drew Derek's hands from his hips up to his neck, placing his own hands on the waistband of Derek's tight jeans.

"Close your eyes."

Derek's voice was rough, unsteady, and Stiles swore he could feel Derek's hands tremble on the back of his neck. He did as he was told, letting his eyelids flutter shut and releasing a deep breath nervously. He stayed like that for what felt like hours, waiting for Derek to laugh and push him away, when he felt warm breath against his lips, and then - finally - full, slightly chapped lips pressing against his own. He dragged in a ragged breath through his nose, pressing his lips firmly against Derek's. Derek let out a quiet groan and tightened his hands on Stiles' neck, using his thumb to angle his head slightly to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against Stiles' bottom lip, asking for permission before slipping his tongue into Stiles' mouth anyway. Stiles gasped, opening his mouth wider, his fingers curling into fists against Derek's hips. A whimper escaped his mouth - something he would deny ever happening ever - and he heard Derek's moan in response, his tongue curling around Stiles' own and exploring every inch of his mouth. Stiles lightly sucked on his tongue, nipping it slightly as his hands trailed up Derek's torso, feeling the warm leather beneath his fingertips and tracing Derek's abs through his shirt (which by the way, more than a six pack.) Derek groaned, threading his fingers through Stiles' hair and pulling, deepening the kiss into something even more filthy and wet and gorgeous. They kissed desperately, clutching at each other and pulling at clothes, either not hearing or ignoring the sniggers and coughs from the cast and crew, only pulling away from each other when Erica burst into tears and ran from the set. Stiles rested his forehead against Derek's, breathing heavily through swollen red lips. Derek stared at him, cheeks stained pink.

Stiles stifled a grin as he watched the crew try to inconspicuously rearrange their pants and hide their red faces. Derek smirked, one corner of his mouth turning up, leaning forward again to capture Stiles' lips in a surprisingly chaste kiss before turning his head to the side and swearing.

"Fuck, Stiles."

Stiles looked down to where Derek's hands were now resting on his hips and smirked.

"Maybe later."

"Stiles, Derek told me to give you this. I heard what happened on set earlier and I didn't want to have to burn my eyes out so I haven't even read it I swear."

Stiles,
It's later.
You know where my trailer is.

Derek