Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf or Sterek
"Stiles, I am not having this conversation again," Derek stated. "You might as well get over it right now. We have more important things to worry about." He took a sip of coffee and looked out the window of their car, a tan Honda, totally innocuous and forgettable. The Jeep and Camaro were off-limits for work, obviously, so the two of them used an endless supply of boring rental cars for their stakeouts. It was part of the fun, really; it wasn't like Stiles and Derek themselves weren't completely recognizable to most of Beacon Hills, so they had to disappear as best they could. Stiles thought most of their targets were probably just really, really stupid, which made their jobs easier.
"This job isn't important, it's just another cheating spouse," Stiles complained. "We can do these in our sleep."
"You do do them in your sleep," Derek countered. "Usually while Istay up for a million hours and listen to your stupid mouth breathing."
"You're a werewolf, you have more stamina," Stiles said dismissively. "Frankly you could use your superpowers to solve all of our cases in about three minutes; then we wouldn't have to spy on everyone all the time."
"You love spying on people," Derek said. "You said stakeouts are the best part of being a private detective."
"They totally are," Stiles grinned. "They make me feel all legit. But about this name change-"
"Forget it."
"Derek, it's hardly fair," Stiles whined back at him. "The name doesn't represent both of us. People think I'm some sort of errand boy instead of your partner. It's humiliating."
"Look, I started the business in the first place," Derek pointed out. "It was Hale Investigations before I even let your dumb ass join me. Besides, everyone in town knows you're my partner, so what does it matter?"
"Yeah, but it was my idea" Stiles said for possibly the millionth time. "Who told you to put your stalking prowess to work as an investigator, huh? Who predicted your Man of Mystery persona would have clients flocking to your door? Me, that's who, and you knew I was going to join you as soon as I graduated anyway. That was always the plan! Now it's three years later and it still looks like I'm just a random employee. Why can't we be Hale-Stilinski Detectives at Large? Or better yet, Stilinski-Hale?"
"That sounds like we're married."
"Dude, we are married, except for all the awesome parts that come along with it," Stiles said. "I have to live with you, share all expenses, work with you and put up with your obnoxious mood swings, but you never put out."
Derek gave him a weird look, but that was nothing new. After three years of living and working together, plus an additional six years of animosity-turned-sort-of-friendship, Stiles knew Derek pretty well. He might as well have majored in The Many Expressions of Derek Hale instead of criminology. He still managed a few surprises, though; right now, Derek was looking at Stiles with a blankness he couldn't quite read.
"You're an idiot." This was the standard retort when Stiles had stumped, annoyed, and/or surprised him, which meant he heard it approximately fifty times a day. Yeah, definitely nothing new. "You're lucky I let you stay on board after those 'Need a Dick?' business cards with my face on them."
"Those were awesome," Stiles sighed. "Possibly my greatest moment."
"Aim high."
"How about Blue Moon Detective Agency?" Stiles returned to his favorite topic. "That's at least neutral, not to mention hilarious."
"That's from Moonlighting, dumbass," Derek said, fixing him with a more readily readable look. It basically said 'dumbass,' making the actual verbalization somewhat redundant, in Stiles' humble opinion.
"I know, that's why it's great! Frankly I'm shocked that show wasn't about werewolf detectives in the first place. You are shockingly underrepresented, you know. There are like fifty shows about vampire detectives, but where are the werewolves, hmmm?"
"Stiles, Moonlighting was on before you were even born." Derek sounded weary, which was also his default state when dealing with Stiles. Considering they spent about eighteen out of every twenty-four hours in each other's company (just breaks for sleeping, honestly, and didn't Stiles wish that could be quality time as well), one would think Derek would be a little more resigned to Stiles, but he still seemed put upon much of the time. Stiles liked to think it masked fondness; why else would Derek willingly subject himself to him? Stiles knew why he did it, but he had long since come to terms with the fact that Derek most likely had very different motivations. Masochism, probably. It came with the brooding.
"That's why DVDs and streaming were invented, genius," Stiles said, shaking off that train of thought. "Do you honestly think I haven't watched every single private eye show and movie? Because you know I have; most of them with you, by the way. Wait, can we change our name to Mars Investigations?"
"No."
"You're right, we have more of a David and Maddie dynamic anyway. My dad and I are Veronica and Keith, it is true, but we're totally Moonlighting."
"How do you figure that?" Derek asked, in an inflection that said he really, really didn't want an answer.
"You're the hot, model-y control freak boss, and I'm the wisecracking brains of the operation. Okay, you're not blond, and I hope my hair doesn't turn out like Bruce Willis', but otherwise it's perfect."
"They end up sleeping together," Derek said, keeping his eyes on the motel across the street.
"Yep," Stiles replied. "You want to slap me a few times to get it started?"
Derek fixed him with another blank look, then returned to monitoring the motel.
"God, do these people ever come up for air?" Stiles complained an hour later, stretching as much as the car would allow him. "How can we catch them in flagrante if they never leave their damn love nest? Even my love of stakeouts has its limits, Derek, although I am slightly impressed with their stamina. Also, I'm hungry. Do you want me to run over to the service station and get you more coffee? Think you can handle the excitement without me?"
"I could certainly handle the quiet," Derek said. "Get me something to eat, too. Not a donut, though; we're P.I.'s, not cops."
"Ooo, I love when you get all into the role," Stiles said. "Be back in a jif."
He was back in fifteen minutes with two black coffees (hey, he had to play the part; his dad was lucky he hadn't started smoking just so he could look more like a real noir detective - he couldn't really pull off a trench coat and fedora, unfortunately) and a bag of cookies (slightly less detective-y, but one must be flexible).
"Anything interesting?"
"Someone tripped over that crack in the sidewalk over there." Derek snatched the cookies out of his hand, and shoved a few in his mouth in a less-than-dignified manner. Stiles liked to observe that Derek had the eating habits of a wild animal. Derek was rarely amused.
"Sorry I missed that," Stiles said, grabbing a cookie for himself before his partner scarfed them all. "Sounds like a laugh riot."
"He rivaled your grace and beauty, to be sure."
"Impossible," Stiles said. "I am one of a kind."
"Thank you, Lord," Derek replied. He looked over at Stiles and sighed. "I'm bored, too."
Stiles gaped at Derek. "Are you serious? You never say you're bored unless I'm making you do something awesome that normal people enjoy. Never at work. This is a day of revelations."
"I can get bored," Derek said, furrowing his brows in a way that could only be described as adorable.
"Yeah, but you never actually admit it," Stiles said.
"Okay, I am admitting it. I, Derek Hale, am bored. This sucks."
"If only," Stiles muttered, taking another sip of his bitter but image-appropriate coffee.
"I have werewolf hearing, Stiles," Derek said, rounding on him and causing Stiles to splutter around his drink. "You can just quit with all the little digs today, because for the record, you are the one that never puts out." He crossed his arms and turned back to face the motel.
Stiles stared at Derek, open-mouthed and more gobsmacked than he had ever been in his life. "I - what?"
Derek kept his face turned away, but said, "I know you think you're hilarious, but you've been making those stupid comments for the last nine years and yet you never. Make. A move."
"Are you fucking with me right now?" Stiles said, feeling his face go as red as Derek's alpha-eyes. "That's not funny."
"No, it's not," Derek agreed, turning back at last.
"You - you're an ass! You can't joke about that, Derek," Stiles managed. "I know I kid around, but you know I'm really being serious. You know that. You humor me because it's easier and less stressful than outright rejecting me."
Now Derek looked shocked. "No. I thought you just loved tormenting me."
"Well, I do," Stiles admitted. "But I'm also clearly obsessed and in love with you."
"Yeah, me too."
When did breathing get so difficult? Stiles hadn't felt this close to a panic attack in years. "What the hell, Derek? Why didn't you do anything?"
"Why should I have to?" Derek sounded petulant, like a little boy denied something he really, really wanted.
"Derek, you are the scorching hot alpha. It is the job of the hotter person to make a move, so the lesser being doesn't feel the humiliation of rejection!"
"Exactly," Derek said, looking right at him, and holy shit.
"You're not honestly saying I have the upper hand in this dynamic," Stiles managed, "because that is outrageous."
"Stiles," Derek started in his 'dumbass' tone, "I do everything you tell me to do. I became a private detective, of all ridiculous things, for no other reason than that you suggested it and because you said you wanted us to work together. I fixed up the house when you told me to stop living like Leatherface. I let you move in with me. I sit in front of the TV with you watching hours upon hours of whatever stupid shit you say you want to watch. I eat all those damn vegetables you shove down my throat and spend every day having the same stupid, inane conversations that frankly, I love. In what universe are you not the boss of me?"
"Oh my God," Stiles said. "That is - just - amazing, really." He looked at Derek, giving him a smile that got bigger and bigger the longer they stared at each other. Finally Derek relaxed and smiled back.
"Then that's settled," Derek said, nodding in a business-like fashion, as if he hadn't just completely blown Stiles' mind. "Call this guy's wife and say we couldn't get any intel tonight. We're going home."
"You sure we can't just check in across the street?" Stiles wheedled.
"We've waited nine years," Derek pointed out. "Twenty more minutes won't kill us. The name change is now negotiable, too."
"Cause we really are going to be married, right?" Stiles couldn't help asking.
"Maybe," Derek agreed softly, fixing him with yet another entirely new expression, one Stiles hoped he would now be seeing for the rest of his life. "You'll have to work really hard to convince me about that new name, though."
"I'm up for the challenge."
X X X X
"So," Stiles said, between frantic kisses, "my dad said if we want to solve any cases we need to stop making out all over town in our stakeout cars."
Derek leaned back from where he had Stiles pressed against the passenger door. "Your dad saw us?"
"The whole town has seen us, apparently," Stiles said, grinning at his BOYFRIEND. "Dad said he thought private eyes would be a little more discreet. He said he is professionally disappointed in us."
"But just professionally," Derek said, looking slightly worried. "He's on board otherwise, right?"
"Obviously," said Stiles, pulling Derek down for another kiss. "My dad loves you. Come on, you were there when we told him, you know he's not that good of a liar."
"Unlike you," Derek replied.
"Yeah, I take after my mother in that respect," Stiles admitted. "She could be sneaky."
"He's right," said Derek, kissing him one more time before he leaned back into the driver's seat. "We have work to do."
"Yeah, and it's in my p-"
"Don't you dare say it," Derek warned, but he smiled at Stiles' ridiculousness. "Mrs. Hooper's paying us to find out who's been stealing her lawn ornaments, not get arrested for public indecency."
"First of all, this job is a joke," said Stiles, leaning against Derek. "We're getting paid in cookies, Derek. Cookies!"
"Those cookies are delicious," Derek said, and to prove the point, he reached into the back seat and grabbed one from the tin stashed there.
"Second of all, we should just point a camera at her house and keep making out. The thieves - sixth graders, probably - will think we're too distracted to actually catch them. They probably won't see the camera."
"Is there a third of all?" He popped the rest of his cookie in his mouth.
"Yeah, honestly, let's get back to this name change thingee," Stiles said, ignoring Derek's groan. "Ah ah, mister, promises were made. I have allowed you certain liberties and I expect to be compensated for them."
"I've compensated you plenty," Derek growled, leaning in to nuzzle his ear. "You've taken a few liberties of your own, too."
"I'm going to take more when we get home tonight," Stiles promised. "In the meantime, we're going to settle this once and for all."
"Fine," Derek sighed, pushing Stiles back into his own seat. "Hale-Stilinksi Investigations, you satisfied?"
"I don't know, Derek, that might not be cool enough," Stiles said. "I still think we should go with something clever."
"We're not using any wolf or moon puns, Stiles," Derek said firmly. "You want to alert the two or three hunters in the world that don'talready know I'm a werewolf?"
"Stupid hunters ruin all my fun," Stiles pouted. "Stilinksi-Hale flows better."
"Not happening."
"Sterek Detective Agency?"
Derek quirked an eyebrow. "Is that Stiles plus Derek? If you say yes, I'm kicking you out of this car and my life."
"Alright, we'll stick a pin in that one," Stiles said quickly. "Stilinski for Hire?"
"There's no Hale in that, and for the last time, you are not Spenser." Still, the look he gave Stiles was outrageously fond.
"You're the Hawk to my Spenser, Derek." He batted his eyelashes.
"As long as I'm not the Susan in this relationship," Derek said. "Plus, that's too sappy for words. Hale-Stilinksi Investigations. Final offer."
Stiles pretended to think it over. "How about Hot Dudes Detectives instead? Or, Hire Us, We're Awesome? If Your Hubby's Cheating, We'll Give Him a Beating?"
"Stop, please."
"I've Become Accustomed to a Certain Type of Lifestyle, so Please Give Us Your Business?"
Derek covered his face with his hands and groaned again. "That's not going to fit on a business card."
"Makeout Stakeout Agency?"
"Oh my God."
Stiles pulled Derek to him again and attached his mouth to his neck, grinning into Derek's shudder. "How about A Couple of Dicks?"
"You're the devil," Derek said. "Turn the camera on, point it at Mrs. Hooper's yard and get in the backseat. If you want me to join you, it's Hale-Stilinski Detectives and you can't make another stupid suggestion for a whole week."
Stiles did as he was told, quick-like. He gave Derek an exaggerated come-hither look as soon as he was situated. "If my dad or one of his deputy's comes knocking on our window, I'm blaming you."
"And if we miss the theft of yet another garden gnome I'm blaming you," said Derek as he crawled on top of him. "Now shut up and earn your partnership."