It couldn't be that hard. Sure Stiles lacked in a lot of… basic motor skills. Things like coordination weren't high on his list of skills. But this, this couldn't be that hard. His hips just weren't moving like they were supposed to. Maybe he needed to do more stretches. He bent at the waist, his bare feet planted firmly on the ground. Stiles was happy his father wasn't here to witness this. Futility attempting to reach the skill level that someone like Beyoncé had long since mastered was not a conversation he was willing to have with his father.

Stiles was obviously not dancing to Freakum Dress because he wanted to. It was more or less a dare. A passing dare that he was sure Danny didn't actually care about. Stiles just had some distorted need for the boy to find him attractive. What better way to impress him than to master Beyoncé choreography. Gay guys… and Stiles fucking loved Beyoncé.

Okay, spin it all around and take it to the ground. He could do this. After a disjointed spin and dip, Stiles was on his back looking up at the ceiling. He dusted himself off and stood only to hit the floor again at the sight of a new presence looming in the corner. Derek. "You know common courtesy says you should knock. Maybe then I won't have a heart attack, or slip a disk in my back." He was pulling himself up again. "Dick."

Derek leaned against the edge of his dresser, amusement lighting his green eyes. That was essentially the only non-hostile look Stiles could expect. He'd always known that Derek's spectrum of emotion having forgone humor and joy for a few extra rungs of brood and hostility. "Beyoncé." A solitary word for Derek, his brows rising incredulously. It was so strange, but so Stiles. He wasn't even sure why he was remotely surprised. "Only you can make something so normal look like a contact sport."

Dick.

Stiles didn't respond right away, still trying to think of a way to actually justify this situation without sounding like a total tool… But if he were being honest with himself he'd realize that he passed the tool marker about six miles back. "Don't let me stop the show. Go on."

Stiles wasn't one to embarrass easy. Not at all. Crippling awkwardness was far more likely. His ADHD prevented embarrassment from slipping in. But he'd be a liar if he didn't know how embarrassing this was. Dropping it low in his boxers in front of Derek IBroodLikeItsMyJob Hale. Stiles looked from side to side as he stretched out his back, eyes finally settling on the larger man in the corner. "I don't expect you to understand the subtle complexities that go into the principles of Freakum Dresses." What?

That didn't make any sense and he knew Derek would call him on it. Deflection would work better. Turn it back on Derek, who was clearly having himself a little peep show. "Why? You must enjoy watching how I expertly move my hips." He laughed awkwardly turning another little spin that was more Rosie O'Donnell than Beyoncé. Okay, dancing wasn't his thing. "I would ask you to dance, but you seem more Shakira, She Wolf, than Beyoncé."

Derek made a noise. Somewhere between disbelief and actual amusement. It was kind of a nice sound – a bit of a change from his usual snarling and growling. "That's what you call 'expertly'? Beyoncé definitely does it better." This tone he used to mock him was only slightly different from his usual tone. It was an interesting dynamic. Still, Stiles could only laugh at the thought of Derek actually watching Beyoncé videos.

"What does the Big Bad Wolf know about Beyoncé anyways?" Stiles asked, hand still massaging an aching spot on his back. "Clearly a hell of a lot more than you." Stiles noted the pointed look he'd received at the big bad comment. He couldn't help himself. Derek was… Derek. His only defense was his expert use of sarcasm. Well, that coupled with his uncanny ability to overstate the obvious.

"What are you doing here anyways? Breaking and entering applies to Alphas too." Curiosity was really getting the better of him now, because he Derek rarely paid him visits for no reason at all. Especially now that he had his little "puppies" to train.

Derek rolled his eyes. "I was making sure that no other supernatural creature with far less patience than me had ripped your throat out because of that mouth." It amazed Stiles how still he stood against his dresser, as if cemented there. Eyes and mouth the only thing still capable of visible movement. "Checking up on me, then? An Alpha bodyguard. Not doing too bad for myself." His grin couldn't be contained, though Derek looked as pensive and hostile as ever.

"Don't read too much into it." How could he not? There was no immediate threat to his well-being while he was at home. Doing absolutely nothing. There was probably more to it than that, but Stiles was still trying to decide if he was actually willing to press for the information.

"Kinda hard not to. As you can see no danger here." He was grinning stupidly, though he knew he was pushing his luck. There was only so much Derek would take before Stiles ended up on the other side of that wall – having gotten there by means other than the door. "You might not have noticed this, but you have an uncanny ability to attract danger."

Funny how easily people forgot how many times he'd saved the day. In hindsight probably more times than the pack had saved him. "If I remember correctly, I have this uncanny ability to save your ass from imminent danger."

"I've also got the ability to rip your throat out with my teeth." Stiles gulped, that had never been a very appealing mental picture. Instinctually his hand found his neck, fingertips running over the soft skin there. "If you did that your life would be dull without my charm and comedic timing."

Was Derek actually smirking? An emotion that could have possibly stemmed from happiness? It was obviously at Stiles' expense… But he'd take what he could get. "Believe it or not, I think I'm due for a bit of normal, and a hell of a lot of silence."

Stiles scoffed. "You say that now, but when you're doing battle prep for some big Argent family blow out – Isaac inevitably says something stupid, then bam! Who's not there to make a well thought out and perfectly timed comment? This guy, right here."

Derek had resumed his usual look, but said nothing. "And can you move or something? This gargoyle thing you're doing is freaking me out, and I won't know what to do if moss starts growing on you." Did moss actually grow on gargoyles? Probably. Whatever. Derek wouldn't know either. In the time it took for his mind to process all of that, Derek had moved to the front of the dresser – his back pressed against the front and his legs crossed at the ankle in front of him.

"Better?" He asked dryly.

"Much. And I now dare to reiterate, what the hell are you still doing here?" He asked, folding his arms over his chest. Then in a flash Derek looked almost threatening, which made him drop his arms to his side. A note to self: Don't assume defensive postures in the presence of an Alpha. They tended to get testy.

"Listen, I promised to keep an eye on you today. You're gonna have to find a way to survive." Stiles could have choked Scott. He didn't need a babysitter. If anything this was a time where he'd be the less likely to get himself killed. The further away Scott was the less likely he was to get dragged into supernatural shenanigans. But here he was, with Derek… In his underwear. While Scott was living it up in Disneyworld or whatever the hell he'd gone for the week.

"If I'm stuck with you, can you at least move out of the way and let me grab a shirt?" Stiles was putting on. He could think of a handful of things worse than spending a day with Derek Hale.

Derek surprisingly moved aside without incident, settling himself on the edge of Stiles' bed while Stiles pulled out the first shirt he found. "What's on tap for today? And please tell me the embarrassing dance portion of the day is over. You were pretty well on your way to a busted hip."

Stiles glared down at his dresser, knowing better than to direct the look at Derek himself. "Believe it or not I was going to do something normal for a change, but I guess living how we live doing something normal is actually abnormal. So, I'm really not doing anything out of the ordinary. Does that make sense? I haven't taken my medicine today."

Derek's attention had been slightly directed towards the rubber band ball that he'd just picked up from the nightstand. "I feel like this is going to be the longest day in history."

"There are plenty of doors and windows that you can use to leave. No illuminated walkways, but I'm sure you've got good enough sense to figure it out." Stiles braced himself for another black glare, but none came. He was sure Derek must've missed the comment, as well as the little show he made with his arms.

But that would've been too easy. "No." A simple enough answer, though no question was really asked. "Now, what normal thing do you have to do today?" He asked, tossing the ball up in the air and catching it. In that moment he looked more like a kitten with a ball of yarn than a werewolf who would surely rip out his throat if he was stupid enough to say that out loud.

"I'm literally going to murder Scott." Stiles said, noting the small noise Derek made. An approval, maybe? "We're mowing the lawn."

"We're?" Derek asked, throwing the ball up into the air again. "Yeah, we're. I just figured since you were hanging around all day, you'd get off your lazy ass and help."

Derek laughed. Once again a humorless sound. "No." Again. Seriously. "You're going to mow the lawn, and I'm going to make sure the blades don't kill you."

He had to be kidding. Seriously, this was some kind of joke. Did Derek really believe that Stiles was that inept at life? He'd survived worst things than mowing the damn lawn. "What the hell do you think I'm gonna do? This isn't some Final Destination movie where I'm gonna hit a gnome and the blade is gonna fly off, narrowly missing me, hitting some weak point in the house and just as I exhale the whole house falls on me. That doesn't happen in real life."

Was Derek smiling? No. Definitely not smiling, but there was humor within the way he moved. It was funny how good Stiles had gotten at reading Derek's ridiculous emotions. Not really emotions, but as close as they were going to get to emotion. "If it could happen to anyone, it'd be you." Stiles frowned. He really hated Derek sometimes.

"If this is how the day is gonna go, I can think of about fifty other things to do. None of which involve you making remarks about me dying." Stiles said mustering as much hostility as he could without totally putting himself in harms way. "I could list about five hundred, but the point remains. I'm not leaving. You're not getting hurt. Case closed. End of story."

"Someone takes their job way too seriously…" Stiles muttered under his breath. "What was that?" Derek asked, eyes meeting Stiles'. "Nothing, God. Relax."

"Good, then let's go. If I'm gonna have to save your ass today, I'd rather do it before it gets too hot out." Stiles scoffed again. Derek could be really whiny when he wanted to be. Once again that wasn't something he'd dare say out loud. But discretion for him wasn't always the better part of valor.

"I say again, it's funny how easily you forget how many times I've saved your flea ridden ass. I think my list outweighs yours." Bold move, Stiles. "Oh? I thought I was the one with the superhuman reflexes, speed, and let's not forget the claws." Okay, Stiles would give him that. He had powers and physical augmentations, but that didn't change the fact that Stiles had played savior on many occasions.

"Let's see, saved your ass when your arm needed to be amputated. Saved your ass when you were almost Kanima bait. Broke that little magic hex ash circle so you could save Scott. Kept you from drowning. Do I need to continue?" Stiles smirked. Score one for him; none of those things were refutable.

Alas this was Derek Hale he was dealing with. "Funny I remember you almost fainting at the thought of amputating my arm. I've helped you and your little posse out more than I care to admit. Let's not forget all the times you tried to have me arrested, not to mention pointing the Argents right in my direction. Need I continue?"

Damn it.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Derek." Playing the fool was definitely a role that he knew well. "Can't brand me the bad guy when you look at the big picture, can you?"

No. But Stiles had never really thought Derek was all bad… Okay, maybe he did for a while… But not now. Things had changed. "I never said you were the bad guy. Brooding, yes. Abrasive, absolutely. Bad? Jury's still out on that one."

Derek looked. The look wasn't heated nor was it angry. This was an emotion that Stiles was having trouble reading. It almost made him nervous. "Don't you have a lawn to mow?"

"You're the one that keeps talking." Stiles reminded, though he knew he was just as much to blame. "I've suggested we go at least four times and you're still standing here." Derek said, standing again. Returning the ball to its previous place.

Stiles paused. Hesitated was more like it. "You're in front of my dresser and I need pants. Those are more or less essential for this kinda thing."

"Funny, you seemed to be pretty damn comfortable roaming around having conversations without them before." Derek said, shrugging noncommittally before returning to his place on the bed.

A little shrug came from Stiles. "I figured you were enjoying the view." Derek rolled his eyes. "Desensitized." That made sense. Werewolves tended to lose clothes when they hulked out. There was a lot of skin to be shown around that lair.

"I've got a great ass, and you know it." Stiles made a show of the little hip gyration, hoping to at least get a laugh. Nothing. He should've known better. "If you say so." As per usual Derek was rolling his eyes again. "Alphas have hormones too, Derek."

Derek made a face. A warning one that usually would've stopped Stiles in his tracks, but for some reason he knew he wouldn't relent today. Especially not after all the comments Derek had made about him today. Besides… He was interested in knowing. "We're not talking about my biological functions." Not a question. A statement – one that had fallen on deaf ears.

"I thought you were desensitized." Stiles was basically prodding with his words, knowing better than to actually touch. "Skin, Stiles. To skin. Not to talking about my hormones with you."

It was taking every ounce of his self control not to laugh. He was sure he'd get punched then. "Maybe you'd be nicer if you released some. Or probably not nicer, but you'd definitely wouldn't be so tightly coiled." Stiles knew he was on thin ice, but was showing no signs of stopping.

"Are you actually telling me that I need to get laid, Stiles?" Derek asked incredulously. "Essentially… Actually no. Not essentially. That's exactly what I'm telling you."

Well this conversation had taken a turn that neither of them had actually anticipated. But Stiles was amused. He rarely threw Derek off his game like this. When he got close he usually ended up on the wrong end of a wall. Derek's face was beginning to register that… "Thanks for the tip. Now put on your pants and do your chores."

"Why're you getting all pissy, or rather more so than usual." It was getting so hard to keep from laughing, and Derek was getting more and more frustrated as time went on. "It's just weird. You're refusing to put on pants."

"A man doesn't have to wear pants in his own house if he doesn't want to!" Great comeback, Stiles. "It's really weird because you're the one who brought it up." What was Derek talking about? Stiles didn't think he was easily confused, but that one threw him.

"The pants or the hormones?" Stiles asked, trying to prepare retorts to either path. "Both." Derek said flatly, clearly over all of this. "I think your hormones could be the source of a lot o this hostility you have. You're a wolf so I can only imagine your testosterone levels being through the roof." At least if Stiles sounded like he was being scientific he could get away with satisfying his own curiosity.

Derek groaned. Had Stiles finally bested him? "Stiles. I'm fine. My hormones are in check. As Alpha I don't really have time for little hook ups, this is kind of a round the clock job." Stiles nodded, though he still wasn't going to leave well enough alone. "I'm sure if you asked Erica or Boyd, they'd… assist. Hell, Isaac seems to be more than eager to please."

Another face from Derek. Had Stiles been thinking he would've realized… But he was too busy prodding for information that his common sense sensors had pretty much knocked off. "We're… in a pack Stiles. I turned them." Derek was speaking slowly and deliberately as if speaking to a child. "Yeah I know, I'm just—Oh! Wow. Didn't think about that one." Family. Packs were family. Sex with family was incest. Apparently that was wrong amongst wolves too.

"Still, there has to be someone. It's not like you're hard on the eyes." Stiles thought back to Officer Abrams whom he charmed with extreme ease back at the station. "Just mow the lawn, Stiles."

"No, we're talking now." Plops down on the bed next to him. "What about… Shit, we don't know many of the same people outside the pack." There was a low rumbling sound coming from Derek now. "Drop it, Stiles. I mean it." Call him crazy, but Stiles rolled his eyes.

"You do that so often, it has next to no appeal anymore." He said, turning to look at Derek who was glaring daggers at him. "You're not being cute." Derek said in another low rumble, one that Stiles once again waved off. "Who's trying to be?" If they were going to be stuck together all day, there was definitely going to be some talking involved. Derek's eyes scanned the room, trying to find some escape route from this awkwardness. A notebook at the foot of the bed… What? Stiles seemed to drift back into his own head for a moment, not at all noticing Derek's movement.

"Operation Woo the Sourwolf…?" Derek said in a very confused tone. Another sound that Stiles wasn't privy to. Derek was always so sure of himself, but now reading Stiles' private most thoughts, he seemed a bit awkward. Spazzing like only Stiles could he yanked the page away from him. "Shut up. That's nothing. We should really get outside now. I can practically hear the grass growing."

That look. Derek was smirking. How much had he seen? Far too much. "No, we're talking, remember? Wanna explain that to me? I read just about half before you snatched it." This was now a game for Derek, but Stiles was not going down without a fight.

"It's… from a friend. Lydia wrote it and gave it to Allison she left it in my jeep and I meant to return it. But you know. Grass is growing by the second. Gonna look like Jumanji soon."

"Yeah, Stiles Hale sounds a lot like Lydia." Derek was actually showing teeth now. A mocking smile, but a smile all the same. Not baring teeth, threatening to rip out vital organs. But Stiles felt like he was going to melt into a white puddle. "Lydia likes to make jokes." He forced a laugh. "Funny, right?"

Not funny at all actually. Mortifying was a more appropriate word.

"Does Lydia even know about the time you, what was it? 'Splayed seductively' on the hood of my car?" Stiles squeezed his eyes shut. "I paid for that, and keep in mind that Lydia is very perceptive. She'd gonna win a Fields medal one day. You know what that is? I didn't till she told me. There's no Nobel Prize for Math. The things you learn…"

Now it was Derek who was holding in his laughter. Which wasn't as easy as he would have liked. "And all the red you've been wearing?" Stiles blinked. Tossing out the first lie that came to mind. "A dozen red socks got in with my whites… Besides Allison and Lydia say red is my color."

"Yeah, okay. Just so you know, I wasn't even arguing with you. I was just pointing out the coincidence." Derek shrugged though that smirk was still rooted firmly to his face. "I haven't once bared my neck temptingly, whatever that means." Nice deflection. Not.

"All the bending over you've been doing?" This was beyond amusing. Stiles had been caught and yet he refused to own up to it. Could you blame him? Derek was more likely to murder him than to reciprocate his feelings. "I'm clumsy, everyone knows that."

"Seems more like you drop things and wait for my attention before picking them up." Stiles squeezed his eyes closed again and stuffed the page into his pants pocket, though he wasn't even wearing them yet. "Please stop talking." He said turning away from him.

"'Stiles' Derek growled sexily."

Shit.

"All a joke."

"You sure?"

"Pretty sure."

Derek was sliding off the bed, and stood a few inches from Stiles. "Do I need to push you against the wall so you can 'gauge my interest'?"

Stiles turned and looked at him again, awkwardness settling in the pit of his stomach. "I, er, We do tend to end up that way a lot. Your anger… My… Charm." So much for being coherent. Lucky for him he admired a man who was… take charge. Before he could register anything else his back was pressed to the wall, Derek's face inches away from his own.

"You're making me bypass steps on my list… You moved from Phase 2 right into 5…" A slight admission – as good as Stiles was willing to give at the moment. "If you hadn't crossed it out, we'd still technically be in Phase 4." He reminded, his head inching a fraction of a centimeter forward.

"There was no declaration of intent." Stiles said, wondering why he was being such a stickler for that plan. "I think this counts." Derek retorted. The smaller man really couldn't combat that kind of concrete logic.

"Touché. You're not going to wolf out and tear out my tongue, are you?" He really needed to shut up. "You really know how to ruin a moment, Stilinski." How could Derek blame him? This was like one of his wildest fantasies coming true. He couldn't very well hit the ground running.

"Eh well you know me, always talking too much." Okay, now or never. Taking the initiative. Stiles finally leaned in and pressed his lips to Derek's. It was chaste, and he moved very gingerly, but there it was. It was done. It happened. Derek's hand found its way to the back of Stiles' head pulling him back into another kiss. This one deeper, with a type of passion that Stiles never knew he could muster.

It was amazing. The way their lips melded together. Stiles had waited so long… He kissed back, attempting to be sexy by pushing them onto the bed, except in his infinite awkwardness they miss the bed altogether and hit the floor – landing right on top of Derek. "You alright?" Stiles asked, trying to keep his blush at bay. If anything it was something that Derek should've expected.

"I'm good, should've expected the concussion." Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, self-consciousness creeping up inside of him again. Instead of succumbing to it, Stiles rolled his eyes. "Just kiss me again, Alpha." Derek smirked, tongue dragging over his bottom lip. "That shouldn't turn me on as much as it does." Score one for Stilinski. A workable sex name. It context it seemed trite, but he really couldn't be pressed to give a shit right now. It got the job done.

Derek had lifted his head again to kiss Stiles, but the younger man was chuckling lightly. More excited than anything else. "What, Alpha?" Derek released some kind of grunt at the question – a sound Stiles took as another approval. Derek's lips were exploring the skin around Stiles' neck, sending something equivalent to shockwaves down his frame. With a show of strength and agility, Derek flipped them over. Stiles was always one to make a comment. Something about Derek's weight being heavier than his own. Something. But shockingly enough, he was speechless. Momentarily anyways, frustrated that Derek's lips had moved out of his range. "Wanna bring he party back over here? Kinda a two man show here."

"Shut up." Derek said back, and Stiles did just that. "Shutting up." He focused on the man on top of him, kissed and biting lightly at his skin. Each movement sucking the air from his very lungs. Palms flat against the floor, not really certain of the movements he should be making. He hadn't actually gotten to the porn stage of his plan yet. He'd improvise. Derek was back at his lips now, pulling up on the hem of his shirt, removing it with the greatest ease.

Or maybe not… One thing was for sure, and that was Stiles was gaining confidence by the second, which was why he was tugging at Derek's shirt, trying awkwardly to pull it off. It would've been easier if it wasn't so fucking tight. Sensing the struggle, Derek pulled back on his own and peeled the shirt off himself before going back to the kiss. "You're so hopeless." He whispered against the kiss. Stiles didn't care though; his hands were already running up Derek's back. He was committing every jut and ridge of his back to memory.

Stiles didn't know how far they were going to go, but this was a pretty great starting point. Derek broke their kiss and panted down at Stiles, who had quickly found a distraction in Derek's arm. Eyeballing the definition in his tanned arm and how it contrasted to his own milky skin. "Stiles." He breathed to get his attention. Eyes catching, Derek pressed on. "If we don't stop now, I won't be able to later." Stiles blinked. Derek was giving him an out if he so chose to take it. What idiot would take it?

Stiles was a ball of buzzing hormones. Stopping now would surely lead to death or something equally terrible. His mouth opened and he preparing himself for a tirade of foolishness that would equate to one simple phrase. Don't stop. Or maybe even a keep going. Still, his mouth was open and no sound came from it. Maybe it was the sensory overload he felt having all of Derek's body heat on top of him. He wasn't sure. But he had to say something. ANYTHING. "Don't. We don't have to stop. I don't want us to stop. Phase five, remember?"

"I didn't get to Phase Five, someone snatched the paper from me." He said in a voice that Stiles didn't recognize. There was no sarcasm, only a playful happiness. "Good think I have it committed to memory." He smiled, leaning up to kiss Derek once more. "One, kisses. Two, Nudity. Three, Sexy Times. Four, Cuddles. Five, Forever."

"I think I can get behind that list." Derek said, smiling as he returned to business. His large hands linked in Stiles' underwear, pulling them off in one swift motion. When he threw them, he didn't care where they landed. That was unimportant. "Eh, I thought you might." Stiles tried to say nonchalantly, but it lost all power because of the goofy smile that he wore on his face. For so long he was just Stiles the friend. Stiles the invisible one. The outcast, the loser.

Never once had he thought about what it'd be like as Stiles the lover. Except he was about to find out. His partner? A big not so bad wolf. His breathing hitched as Derek's lips kissed his sensitive stomach, thankful that one of them had experience in this kind of thing. Otherwise it'd be an awkward mess of hands. "Derek." Stiles breathed, for no reason in particular.

But rather than respond favorably, Derek froze. Before Stiles could ask what was wrong he heard it too. The doorknob turning.

Enter Sherriff Stilinski. "I thought I told you to mow the lawn, Stiles." Then he saw it. His eyes stretched and he cleared his throat, thankful for the cover the edge of the bed gave him. The last thing he needed to see was all of this. Derek and Stiles were stiff. Literally and figuratively. Mr. Stilinski blinked again. An awkward situation all around.

Shit. Fuck. Damn. Tits. Piss. Cock. Balderdash. Stiles wished that he could melt into the ground. Here he was getting all hot and heavy with the hottest man in Beacon Hills and his father had to walk in and ruin it all. Hand covering his eyes, he dared not look at his father directly. "Gonna get on that soon, dad." He said as if there was nothing abnormal about the entire situation. "And I assume Derek will be helping?" Stiles' eyes fell to Derek's, who was nodding without actually looking, before glancing back at his father's feet. "That's the tentative plan." Sheriff Stilinski knew it was wise not to ask too many questions. "Just make sure it gets done. And gets some clothes on first."

The Sherriff was just about to turn and purge this memory for life, but he stopped. "Let's never mention this again." And with that the Sheriff made hisexit, no doubt to have himself a drink. When the door shut, Derek pulled himself off of Stiles' smaller frame, kicking his clothes over towards him. Stiles shut his eyes and flailed his arms and legs. He wanted to have sex and wasn't above pitching a fit now that he knew that wasn't going to happen. Sitting up, but not reaching for his clothes right away he sighed, flailing once more. "I'm sorry about that. He was supposed to be gone all day."

Derek laughed. Stiles assumed if they were feeling the same way, he'd have to in order to keep from crying. "It's alright. It was… an experience." That was the understatement of the century. Stiles was going to kill his father. The only saving grace here was that Derek didn't seem too upset. The circumstances were beyond their control, but still. Now he had to cut grass with blue balls. That wasn't fun for anyone. Part of him wanted to initiate the whole thing again, but he knew Derek wouldn't go for it while his dad was home. And with Isaac and Erica hanging around his place that would also be a no go. Fuck. Stiles was never going to get any action. "Fuck." He whined, looking up at Derek. "Can I at least touch it through your pants. That'll keep me from having that aneurysm."

Derek was really beginning to make a habit of laughing, and Stiles was really enjoying it. Actually, he'd enjoy it more when he wasn't so horny. "Even if you touch it right now, I'm probably still going to have that aneurysm." Derek said, playing with the hem of his own t-shirt. Truthfully all Stiles heard just then was touch me right now, and without much more thought his hand was on Derek's crotch, memorizing the length and width of what would remain hidden to him for the time being.

Doing this wasn't really beneficial to anyone involved, but damn it he had to know. "There really isn't anywhere for us to go. Your pups have taken over your place. I mean, dad probably has to work later. And I doubt you want to deal with the mess that we could make in the back of your car." Stiles was pressed for ideas. He wanted Derek now, but there were really no viable options. Stiles' hand was still firmly in place, moving to and fro lightly as he thought. "You're big." He said almost absently.

This time it was Derek who squeezed his eyes shut. The pressure from Stiles' hand was not helping him in the slightest. "Stiles, cut it out." He said, a bit of edge returning to his voice as he moved the boy's hand from his crotch. "Now listen. The puppies as you call them are not at the house. They're at the subway car. No one is at my house." It was a last ditch effort, but it was private and that was all they really wanted wasn't it? Stiles knew the house well.

There were a lot of… memories there. At least now he'd get to replace some of the bad ones with some of the good. Damn he wanted Derek so bad. The drive across town wouldn't be back, but they had to mow the lawn first. Damn it. "Your house then?" He asked, palming the bulge with his other hand. "This one didn't get a turn." He said cracking a smile.

"My house…" Derek started, reaching out to remove the other hand from his length. "But if you don't cut it out I'm gonna start without you." That smirk had returned, and Stiles could feel his body stirring again. They really needed to get that yard work done "Let's not get too hasty."

Damn it. The lawn. Fucking shit. "Okay, here's what we're going to do. We're going to do the absolute bare minimum with the lawn and then rush to your house to have hot wolf animalistic sex." Stiles hadn't even had Derek yet and was already mesmerized by all the older man had to offer, excitement bubbling in his stomach.

"Sounds good to me." Derek said in a voice calmer than one Stiles would've used… "I'm begging for some enthusiasm." He teased, pulling on his clothes finding the sight of Derek adjusting himself to be more than attractive. "Try not to let my dad see you wielding that thing." Stiles laughed again, though he was cursing inside. But working together they could have the yard work done in an hour max.

"Trust me, if I showed my enthusiasm now, nothing would get done because you'd be beneath me, naked, and more than likely calling my name." Derek said with a shrug. Stiles bit down on his lip to focus. "That's more tempting than I care to admit… Have I ever told you how much I love Phase Five?" Stiles grinned again. Stiles never actually thought that his little plan would come to fruition but luckily for him it had.

Stepping around Derek, he palmed his crotch again briefly before pressing his back up against the door. "Stiles." Derek growled again. Stiles threw his arms up innocently. "Hey, I like toys. You had a big one, couldn't help myself. A phrase about a dog and a bone seems beyond my usual level of cheesy right now, though." Derek rolled his eyes and nudged the boy out of the way. "Let's just get to work."