Derek tried to remember how he got here. John was a head smaller than him and still had him backed against the fridge. Sarah and Cameron were out of the house, running some errand or another. Oh, and John was kissing him.
Maybe he should have thought about that one first.
It had started casually with Derek leaning against the fridge when John had come into the kitchen, throwing him a glance that was familiar for Derek but not from John's face that looked so much like Kyle's at this age. Maybe that was why Derek had ignored it. John had made conversation, something mundane about that Derek wasn't remembering at the moment, while he had closed the space between them without Derek noticing it consciously. Derek was so used to John's presence, not this John's but John's, that John coming nearer hadn't set off his alarms until John had wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him.
Actually that still hadn't registered in his brain as unusual because underneath the general smell of cleanness in this time John still smelled like John.
John kissed him like Derek remembered it: forcing his lips open, sneaking his tongue inside, determined, passionate, like he knew exactly what he was doing.
Out of habit Derek's hands had crept under John's shirt which was what finally threw him off because there was no scar running along John's spine on his lower back.
Derek pushed him away.
John stumbled backwards but caught himself with one hand against the kitchen table. His face was flushed, his lips red and he looked so young and so much like Kyle that it made Derek sick.
"You shouldn't kiss me like that." He said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand because he knew that if he liked his lips he would find that John still tasted like John even with fifteen years between them.
"You kissed me back." John pointed out, taking a step forward again only to be stopped by Derek's hand against his chest.
"Don't." Derek warned him but in his eyes he could see John's stubbornness rising to the challenge.
However, John didn't follow him when he left the kitchen.
/
When Sarah or Cameron was around John was a master of subtlety. Their fingers brushed accidentally all the time suddenly and John walked so close to him that it wasn't surprising that they bumped into each other now and then. The bathroom door couldn't be locked so John wandered in every now and then and Derek couldn't exactly say something against John's foot sliding up his leg under the kitchen table when they ate.
When Sarah and Cameron weren't around, John dropped all pretences. He let his hand wander over Derek's body, slipping underneath his clothes and touching his bare skin whenever he had the chance. He walked around the house in the tiniest towel that fit around his waist after showers and bent over so that it fell to the ground. And even in this time John had the uncanny ability to catch Derek off guard and stole kisses from him whenever he could.
Derek knew he wasn't fighting against it as much as he should and hated himself a bit for it. He hated John, too, both Johns actually because back then it had been John who had made the first step and if he had known what they were to each other then he should have never done it or at least he should have never let Derek return to the past.
/
Derek was so exhausted that his limbs felt like lead, pressing him into the mattress. Or maybe that was John's body above him, warm and thin and familiar and John was kissing him, slowly coaxing him away from the world of sleep and unconsciousness where Derek wanted to stay. It wasn't often that they both had the time for this; mostly it was hasty kisses and stolen nights that could be interrupted at any moment by the ever present danger.
The more he loved these times when John straddled his lap, kissing him for what seemed like hours while Derek could lie there, content and sleepy and without a care in the world.
Derek woke up slowly, finding John's familiar weight on his lap and John's lips on his, kissing him, moving against him carefully but passionately. Still half-asleep Derek reached around with one heavy hand to rest it against John's lower back.
The scar still wasn't there.
Derek opened his eyes and shoved John off harder than he had intended to because in his panic his first thought had been What if Sarah sees us? Which was definitely the wrong thing to think about first hand when all the other issues why this was a wrong, bad, sick idea lay already out in the open.
John was at the end on the couch, his whole body screaming wanton need but especially his flushed face and his rapidly rising and falling chest. Derek couldn't look away, all his restraint needed in order not to give in to John's seduction.
"I told you not to kiss me like that." Derek said hoarsely.
"Why?" John asked challengingly: "Why should I wait ten years when I can have you now?"
"It's wrong."
"You want me." John pointed out unnecessarily. "No one has to know."
"No one must know." Derek corrected him. John crawled nearer again but when Derek pushed him away this time, John pulled him down with him. They ended up on the floor, tangled up in blankets and each other, John shamelessly spreading his legs and wrapping them around Derek's waist and pulling them closer together.
"Why do you fight this so much?" John whispered persuasively, kissing him again. He smiled; a sweet, happy smile and Derek knew that the only thing he needed to say to end this thing between them forever was: "You look like your father. Every time I look at you I see him."
John waited for an answer and Derek opened his mouth to say:
