Derek Hale had always been a hirsute guy, his monthly furry issue notwithstanding. Right from when puberty tapped him on the head and anointed him with a peppering of body and facial hair. He'd been the first in his year to need to shave and the conspicuous nature of his early blooming meant that he'd felt compelled to do that almost daily from the age of fourteen.
After all the shit that had gone down in his teenage years he'd slackened off a little so that in his twenties he kept to a more relaxed grooming regimen, only trimming his beard once a week or so and more or less giving up on any other kind of manscaping. He'd become accustomed to the stubbly look and so had the few people he allowed near him. Obviously Stiles took the piss a lot - because that was what he did – often likening Derek to a bear rather than a wolf, particularly in the moments that required a slightly less dressed Derek than usual.
His self-imposed exile after what happened in Mexico had lasted three years but two days ago he'd returned to Beacon Hills; the pull of home and pack finally winning out. It wasn't that he hadn't kept in contact with people, he'd emailed Scott every month or so to let him know where he was and to keep updated on the situation back home. He'd even developed a sporadic text communication with Stiles, at least until Stiles persuaded him onto WhatsApp which enabled a better flow of conversation and even some pictures of the places he visited. Stiles reciprocated with occasional images of the remaining pack, sometimes they were prepping to deal with a supernatural occurrence and sometimes just chilling out together. There were quite a few selfies. For reasons he wouldn't acknowledge to himself, he saved the one of Stiles dressed for Halloween in a Little Red Riding Hood costume as his wallpaper. Derek never sent any selfies to Stiles so there was no way that Stiles could know that Derek had pretty much given up on razors altogether, preferring now to sport a full beard which, at least one year after his last full shave, now covered half his face and edged ever downwards past his throat.
Despite his more open policy of communication, he hadn't told anyone he was coming home – old habits do indeed die hard – mainly because he just wanted a little time to settle back in first; feel the place out. He'd been a long time on his own and even though he wanted it, the immediacy of pack could be a little overwhelming for someone used to their own company.
In the preceding month he'd instructed the company tasked with managing his affairs to open and clean the loft ready for him. Two nights ago, he'd arrived late in the evening, too tired to do anything but throw his bags on the floor and crash for twelve hours. The next day he woke and immediately went full wolf so that he could prowl into all the corners of his space and scent it to smell like him. This involved a lot of rolling around and not a little snuffling.
When he was satisfied that the loft now had a patina of Derek scent all over it, he transformed back, had a late breakfast and then went to see how the rest of Beacon Hills had fared in his absence. He drove around the town for a bit, he was certain he spotted Sheriff Stilinski in his patrol car crossing an intersection in front of him. Eventually he parked up in a secluded spot on the edge of the preserve, went full wolf again and trotted off to re-explore his old territory.
The area was vast and even at a wolf's pace it took the rest of the day to cover most of it. He avoided the occasional hiker and from time to time came across places where he could detect that something had gone down there. He tried to match the lingering scents and auras to his memories of Scott's description of events.
The next day he texted Scott:
I'm back, just give me a couple of days to reorient myself
The reply came promptly:
Great news ! Let me know when you're ready
Derek then headed into town. There were certain items that were essential that he didn't have and he figured it was still too early to bump into anyone. He was just crossing the street near the sheriff station when that assumption was proved typically foolish. Coming out of the diner in front of him was a very recognisable Stiles. Even if Stiles had changed radically during Derek's time away - he hadn't - the way he was juggling several fast food orders in bags, nearly losing hold of them at least once would have given him away. Stiles might be taller, a little broader and much more of a man than he was three years ago but his loose grasp of balance and grace gave him away completely.
Stiles spotted the figure approaching him peripherally, not really paying any attention, he needed all his concentration to fight the losing battle against dropping a bag. His hold was tenuous and the bag was slowly slipping between two of his fingers, just as it succumbed to gravity, a hand came out and neatly caught it.
"Thanks, man", Stiles said as the beardy dude plopped the bag securely on the top of the pile Stiles was carrying.
"Need some help?" enquired the dude, somewhat presumptuously in Stiles' opinion, so he looked up into the strange guy's face to meet a pair of protean green-grey eyes that looked startlingly familiar.
"Derek!" exclaimed Stiles. "Fuck, Derek! Are you shitting me?"
Derek laughed, "No shitting intended."
Stiles appeared stuck in a loop, "Fuck me, Derek, I don't believe you're here."
"Oh, OK then, I'll just..." Derek started edging away with a grin on his face.
"No! You hold it right there mister, I need to take you in." Stiles stood back a little giving Derek a more than appreciative once over. "Look at you Mr Bear."
Derek ran his hand self consciously through his beard, realised what he was doing and held the hand out.
"C'mon, give me some of that stuff, where's your car?" He took several of the bags out of Stiles' arms and followed as Stiles led him down the street towards his jeep.
"You still have this", commented Derek as Stiles unlocked the door and dropped his cache of bags inside.
Stiles, hands free of food now, patted the vehicle affectionately, "Of course I do, gotta keep my baby on the road." He turned back towards Derek and grabbed Derek's share of the food order to deposit it with the rest.
"So...", he said, crossing his arms against his chest, "...fleeting visit or..." He left the question open ended.
"Or", stated Derek firmly, "I'm back." Stiles stared at him inscrutably. "Permanently", he added.
Stiles stare turned into a wide grin. He punched Derek on the arm. "Dude!"
Derek cocked an eyebrow at him but Stiles just laughed and with a shake of his head repeated, "Dude!" He indicated the food, "We're having brunch...at Lydia's. Want to join?"
Derek shook his head regretfully, "I've just got home, there's a million things I need to do, I'll catch up with you all soon."
"Promise?" asked Stiles.
"Promise", affirmed Derek.
"OK then", and Stiles leaned forward and wrapped an arm around Derek in a bro hug. For a fleeting second Stiles' hair tickled Derek's nose and he caught a scent of coffee and old books.
"See you soon, Stiles", and Derek headed off to do his shopping.
Derek kept his promise and within a few days headed over to Stiles' house for a 'Welcome Home' barbecue.
Settling back in to Beacon Hills came surprisingly easily and Derek soon had a diary full of Sunday brunches, movie nights and all the other social engagements of a long established group of friends augmented naturally by pack activities.
A pattern soon became apparent: if they were at the diner, Stiles would sit opposite Derek and steal fries from his plate. Derek now ordered them regardless of whether he wanted them or not. If they were watching a movie, either at the multiplex or at someone's home, Stiles would sit next to Derek and whisper commentary in his ear constantly. If they were pairing up for some task, Stiles would gravitate towards Derek every time. Derek reasoned that this was the natural result of the rest of the pack being coupled up, him and Stiles being the only single members now.
Another manifestation of this new pattern to Derek's life was Stiles' constant presence in the loft. At first Stiles would show up with something interesting to show or tell Derek about but after a while, this pretence was abandoned and Stiles just turned up whenever he felt like it.
Like this time: Stiles was sprawled out next to Derek on the sofa trying to engage him in a Marvel movie marathon. They were currently half way through Thor and Derek was only passably interested.
"Fine figure of a man, that Chris Hemsworth", Stiles commented. Derek grunted, by now used to Stiles' eye for a male physique. "Your beard's better though"' Stiles added.
"Just my beard?" countered Derek, slightly put out that the effort gone into maintaining his enviable build appeared to be unappreciated when matched against the film's hero.
Stiles squirmed a little awkwardly. "Your beard is the king of beards, I don't know how anyone can look at anything else when you have that thing on your face." He straightened up slightly, seemingly confident that he'd made up for his unintentional insult.
"It's just a beard, Stiles, it's not life changing in any way."
"It really is", muttered Stiles, "It changed my life at least."
"Huh?" Derek looked puzzled, "How has my beard impacted you?"
"Are you really going to make me do this?" Stiles glanced uncomfortably at Derek.
"I don't know what you mean, you're not making any sense."
Stiles let out a long sigh, "Hairy dudes are my thing, you know that."
"How would I know that", replied Derek. "Last time I was here your 'thing' was petite redheads."
"That's not true", Stiles said a bit quickly. Derek appraised him, the light was beginning to dawn.
"No?" He challenged.
Stiles looked like he'd prefer to be anywhere else entirely. He still held Derek's gaze though and appeared to arrive at a decision.
"I liked you, OK...back then...you were hairy, ergo, I now have a thing for hairy dudes."
Derek elected to cut him some slack, he said gently, "I didn't know, Stiles. You seemed to be completely into Lydia before I left. I know you've dated men since then but I never would have equated that with me."
"Well it's your fault, you set my dude type and now you come back looking all..." Stiles waved a hand in the direction of Derek's face.
Derek shuffled closer to Stiles. "All what, Stiles?"
The wistfulness in Stiles' tone of voice was overwhelming. "Gloriously beardy. I can't help it, I want to stroke it, I want to rub my face against it, beards are my kryptonite and you have the best one; you, my first man-crush."
Derek reached across to cup Stiles face. "Stiles, do you want to kiss me?"
"Yeah, I do, very much but first I want to do this." Stiles placed his hand on Derek's cheek, stroking down into the full bush of Derek's beard. "It's so soft, I never expected that." He continued to pet Derek.
"Stiles, I look after every aspect of my body, why would you think I wouldn't take care of my beard as well?"
"Well whatever you do, it feels amazing." Stiles now had both hands caressing Derek's face.
"A good conditioner and beard oil", mumbled Derek, succumbing to the urge to press into the curve of Stiles' hand.
Stiles leaned in towards Derek bringing his cheek within a hands breadth of Derek's. "May I?" He breathed hotly across Derek's ear.
"I thought there was going to be kissing", whined Derek slightly petulantly.
Stiles nuzzled against the side of Derek's face. "Oh, there will, there will..."
And that was how, six months after returning to Beacon Hills with absolutely no expectations, Derek found himself in his first ever decent relationship.
It wasn't just Derek's facial hair that Stiles was obsessed with, he adored all of his body hair too. Stiles delighted in seeking out Derek's nipples snuggled in the thatch of his chest. They were super sensitive so the sounds that Derek uttered when Stiles found and teased them with his tongue and his teeth were a sublime reward for his efforts. Just for kicks Stiles would follow the hair down over Derek's belly until he could trace the line below his navel.
Stiles loved Derek's pubic hair the most after Derek had come and his softening cock would nestle among the coal black curls glistening with lube and streaked with his semen. He'd sometimes lick up the fur of Derek's thighs towards the sordid mess, nuzzling into the intimate places under Derek's balls and then cleaning him all off with long sloppy laps of his tongue.
Were he to be asked though, Stiles would maintain that his very favourite thing to do would be to have Derek rim him. The rasp of Derek's beard against him set his skin alight. The sensation of the hair dragging over the part of him that was the most tender brought him off quicker than anything else. Stiles could come from just being rimmed every single time. Derek decided that Stiles had the filthiest preferences when it came to sex and he couldn't have been more happy about it.
Life moves ever onward and college and freedom gave way to jobs and responsibility for the members of the pack. For Stiles, this saw him enrolling in the police academy and moving into the loft with Derek. For others this meant solidifying the bonds between them and that was how, just before midsummer, the group were preparing for Erica and Boyd's wedding.
Derek examined himself critically in the floor length mirror, turning one way, then the other. He made a small face at his reflection, unsure if this suit was any better than the last, he'd already tried about half a dozen, after all.
Stiles sat to the side watching him. He'd chosen quickly: a mid-grey two piece, the cut of which, in Derek's opinion, made him look taller and flattered his trim waist. It was no hardship at all for Stiles to watch his boyfriend try on clothes.
"You look hot, bear, it looks really good on you." He said with a lascivious smirk.
"Yeah?" Replied Derek, shuffling around to check out all the angles, " You think?"
This suit was a charcoal grey, almost black, three piece, which, at first, Derek had thought was too much but the assistant had brought out a dark purple shirt to complete the outfit and Derek had to admit, it wasn't bad at all.
Derek wrinkled his nose up again in contemplation. Something wasn't quite right. If he looked at himself from the shoulders down, he presented a sharp silhouette, the suit looked urbane, sophisticated, if you will. If, however he glanced upwards at his face, the shaggy countenance just seemed wrong.
He bought the suit anyway.
Derek knew exactly what Stiles thought of him shaving. The subject had come up a couple of times since they'd been together. Stiles was dead against it with a fervour that bordered on obsessional. A trim a few times a year was all that he'd managed to get away with but recently Derek had felt it was time for a change, the weather was getting warmer and he thought it might be nice to have a clean face for a while. He contemplated Stiles' reaction, he knew that it was his beard that had first attracted Stiles and he was worried that without it Stiles wouldn't find him sexy any more.
The Wednesday before the wedding Stiles went over to his Dad's to help him work on the garden and Derek took the opportunity to try the suit on one last time and decide what to do. As before, he was convinced that, in this outfit, the beard did him no favours. He ran his hand over it, he'd miss it but he was tired of it.
Unexpectedly, his superior hearing caught the sound of Stiles' jeep coming down the road earlier than anticipated, it seemed the moment was upon him after all. He hoped that he could talk Stiles round somehow.
Minutes later, Stiles bounced into the room.
"Watcha doing?" He asked as he came through the door. "Oh", he breathed, as he caught sight of Derek. He sidled towards him and ran his hands down the lapels of the jacket. "Have I told you how good that suit looks on you, you could be a GQ model."
"Not really", grumbled Derek slipping his arms around Stiles.
Stiles raised a questioning eyebrow, "What do you mean, you're as hot as anyone I've ever seen."
"Stiles, look at me." Derek demanded
"I am, you're like the sun, I can't look away." Stiles snickered.
"No", Derek pulled back and took Stiles' hands in his own. "Really look at me. It's not working! This suit looks like it's on the wrong person."
"It looks fine to me", protested Stiles. "In fact I can't wait to get it off you after the reception."
Derek squeezed Stiles' hands a little, "Babe, I'm sorry, the beard's got to go."
"No", wailed Stiles, "you can't, I love your beard". As if to prove a point, he ran his hands down the side of Derek's face.
"Sweetheart, I know you do but I want to look good for you at the wedding. I don't want to look like something you've just dragged out of the forest. This suit deserves better."
Stiles continued fondling Derek's beard. "What'll I do without my bear?"
"Babe, I'm still your bear, I'll always be your bear." He hugged Stiles. "I just need to do this, it's time, you know."
Stiles pouted, "I can't stop you, it's your choice but I want it noted that I'm thoroughly against the desecration of your facial fur."
Derek smiled and leant in and kissed Stiles. "I know and I just hope you still want to be with me afterwards."
Stiles took a step back in surprise, "Of course I will, I love you, all of you, not just your beard."
"It's not forever, I can grow it back. You know, after a few years maybe..." He teased.
"I'll make you a deal" stated Stiles
"What?"
"You can go clean shaven at this wedding but at our wedding I decide whether you have a beard or not." He looked quite smug.
"Stiles Stilinski, are you proposing to me?!"
"Stiles found himself enveloped in Derek's arms again. "Yeah"' he grinned, "I guess I am".
Stiles refused to go with Derek to the barbers. He said it was one thing knowing the beard was going but quite another to watch it being shaved. When Derek returned, smooth cheeked and with his previously overlong hair cropped neatly, Stiles couldn't open his eyes at first. The second he heard the key in the door he squeezed them shut, scared to look upon this new version of Derek.
"Stiles?" He heard Derek's voice coming closer. "Stiles, it's OK."
Stiles opened one eye a tiny bit and squinted at the figure in front of him. He cast his glance upwards and when he reached Derek's face his eyes shot open.
"Whoa!" He breathed, "You have cheekbones!" He stood up to examine Derek more closely. Derek smiled. "And dimples..." Stiles stroked Derek's face, feeling out the contours that had been hitherto hidden. "Your skin is so smooth, it's like silk."
Derek laughed and Stiles realised that he'd never seen the full brilliance of his laugh before. "Ok, I concede, it's not horrible."
"Well, damn me with faint praise, why don't you", Derek said, mock affronted.
"How does it feel?" Stiles asked him.
"It feels good, strange but good. Sensitive..."
"Sensitive, eh?" Stiles pressed a soft kiss to Derek's cheek. "How sensitive?"
Derek nuzzled his face into Stiles' neck. "Very sensitive."
"Mmmm"' groaned Stiles, "I think I can work with that."