The Feeling That I'm Under

by wearing-tearing

[TFTIU #1] Stiles is a paramedic and Derek gets into a bike accident. It's kind of love at first sight.

4. Chapter 4

a/n: RATING WENT UP because of a descriptive fantasy stiles has of him and derek together. but not because of real sexy times just yet, sorry :(

---

"Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"Did you really just order that?"

"I like it."

"You- You like it? Derek, that's just- I don't. Are you serious?"

"For the last time, Stiles, yes, I am serious."

"I don't think I can be with you anymore," Stiles shakes his head, mock outrage written all over his face. "This is a deal breaker. I can never date anyone who orders a vanilla milkshake with his burger."

"Says the guy who asked for a portion of curly fries," Derek says dryly. "With another portion of curly fries."

"Curly fries are a gift from the fucking gods," Stiles sniffs, reaching a hand and letting it rest over Derek's. "It's not your fault you can't understand our love."

Derek snorts at that, eyes soft and fond as he slides his fingers through Stiles', squeezing his hand once before letting go.

"And it's not my fault you can't appreciate the wonders of vanilla milkshakes," Derek says back, leaning against his side of the booth.

"Nothing about anything vanilla is wonderful," Stiles makes a face at him.

"I'm not going to argue with you about this."

"That's because you know I'll win."

Derek just shakes his head at him, lips tugging up slightly.

"And speaking of winning," Stiles says, resting his chin on his hand. "How's Boyd?"

"He's good," Derek gives him a smile, a real smile. "He's still having some trouble with picking up pens, but he's got a good grip on his bike's handlebars."

Stiles rolls his eyes at him, smiling fondly at Derek.

"You're family's obsession with bikes is weird," Stiles tells him, and then gasps, eyes glinting in amusement, "Are you guys in a biker club? Is that it? Is the garage just a front for your nefarious business of selling guns and dope to the innocent kids of Beacon Hills?"

"You caught us," Derek deadpans. "I guess I'll have to kill you now."

"Kill me with kindness, you mean," Stiles bats his lashes at him. "Since the only reason you even brought me here was because you knew how much I love crappy diner food."

"Your love for takeout services is something I don't understand," Derek says. "Taking you out to dinner is the least I can do. I like you, I don't want you to have to eat things out of boxes seven times a week."

"That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me," Stiles breathes out, and then explains himself, "You know I can't really cook. And with my hours at the firehouse it's easier to just order something instead of, you know, trying to learn how to cook."

"I could teach you," Derek shrugs one shoulder, staring down at his hands on top of the table.

"I-," Stiles blinks, biting down on his bottom lip to keep from squealing when he sees the faint blush of Derek's cheek. "You'd do that?"

"Yeah, if-," Derek clears his throat, shifting in his seat a little before looking up shyly at Stiles. "If you wanted to, I could. Yeah."

"I'd like that," Stiles says softly, offering Derek a sweet smile. "I'd really like that. But I have to tell, it wouldn't be easy."

"I know," Derek nods, lips twitching. "I remember you telling me about your lack of skills in the kitchen."

"Well, I'll have you know my skills lie elsewhere," Stiles shoots back. "And by that I mean in a bed."

Derek's face does that complicated thing where it doesn't know if it wants to laugh at Stiles or scowl at Stiles, so it settles for going beetroot red and not meeting Stiles' gaze.

And then their waitress clears her throat and sets down two plates of food, one in front of Derek and one in front of Stiles.

"Enjoy your food, boys."

If Derek throws a fry at his head as his blush deepens and Stiles catches it with his mouth and moans out a "Yummy" just to see Derek get even redder, no one needs to know.

---

"Stilinski, your boyfriend's here!"

Stiles can't help the smile that breaks across his face as he waves goodbye to Danny, Jackson, and Scott and runs out of the firehouse.

Derek has his helmet off and his phone in hand, brows furrowed as he taps something on it before putting it back in his pocket.

"Everything okay?" Stiles asks as he gets closer, getting a hand on the back of Derek's neck and pulling him into a quick kiss.

"Do you mind if we stop by the garage before heading out?" Derek asks him, voice low and hesitant.

"Not at all," Stiles shakes his head, and then asks again, "Is everything okay?"

"Erica called saying there's some kind of problem with one of the customers," Derek sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I have to go check it out."

"Alright," Stiles nods. "Let's go, then."

"You don't have to come with," Derek tries, shoulders tensing and lips thinning like Stiles knows it happens when Derek's feeling uncomfortable. "I can drop you off at home and come pick you up when I'm done."

"Derek," Stiles says slowly, trying not to feel, you know, hurt. "Do you not want me to meet Erica and Isaac?"

Stiles doesn't mention Derek's uncle, mostly because he knows the guy is in New York on a business trip.

He wonders when he started cataloguing Derek's family member's whereabouts.

He realizes he doesn't really care.

"No. I- No," Derek huffs, rolling his shoulders. "I just don't want you to- It's just- Erica and Isaac are-"

"Overwhelming?" Stiles tries, biting down on his bottom lip as he tries not to find Derek the cutest person ever as he struggles with his words.

"Yes," Derek lets out a sigh of relief. "Yes, they are. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable. And Erica and Isaac will try their hardest to do just that."

"I told you I wouldn't hold your friends' craziness over your head if you didn't hold mine," Stiles reminds him with a soft smile. "And trust me, there's really no one worse than my friends."

"You only say that because you haven't met them yet," Derek mumbles, scowling down at his helmet.

"I'm sure I'll love them," Stiles kisses his cheeks. "Because anyone good enough to be friends with you must be awesome."

"Thanks," Derek says dryly, but Stiles can see the little pleased smile playing on his lips.

"Anytime, baby," Stiles winks at him, extending a hand. "Now give me my helmet and let's go."

"As you wish," Derek sighs, trying to sound put out.

He fails when he kisses Stiles on the nose before sliding the spare helmet over his head.

As much as Stiles knows almost everything that goes down at the garage where Derek works, he's never been there himself. If he's being honest, he's a little excited about finally getting to see the place where Derek spends most of his days and hours, where he does what he loves.

He also has to admit that although he told Derek he's going to love his friends, he's nervous.

Because if they're anything like his group of people, then they're going to be judging to see if he's good enough the minute they lay eyes on him.

So that's why he takes his sweet time when Derek parks in front of an open, well, garage, eyes taking in the big open space, the two sleek black bikes parked beside Derek's, and the big shiny sign with the same design of Derek's mom's bar and-

"Did you guys seriously name your garage Hale's Garage?" Stiles asks as he stares up at the sign.

"That was not my idea," Derek says, sounding a little offended, and then a little sad. "My dad used to run it, with my Uncle only taking care of all the paperwork. The only name they could ever agree on was the family one, and after he..."

"You didn't want to change it," Stiles finishes when Derek trails off, coming up to him and wrapping his arms around Derek's waist, pulling him into a hug. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Derek mumbles against his neck in a way that tells Stiles that it's not fine at all.

He doesn't push, though, pulling back so he can peck Derek on the lips once, twice, three times before saying, "Okay, time to go. Because there's a blonde chick with grease stains on her overalls and the scariest smirk on her face staring at us from what I think is your office door."

Derek groans and drops his head against Stiles' shoulder, "Erica."

And like she can hear Derek's pain, Stiles sees the way her smile widens and she raises a hand to wave at them.

"How scared should I be?" Stiles whispers, never taking his eyes off her.

"Very scared," Derek gruffs back, taking Stiles' hand in his as they both make their way towards Erica.

"Just so you know," she says as soon as they're within ear shot. "As soon as Derek finishes dealing with this, I'm going to deal with you."

She grins wickedly and points a finger in Stiles' direction, cackling when Stiles visibly takes a step back and behind Derek.

"Erica," Derek hisses, crossing his arms over his chest. "Don't you-"

"Don't even," Erica narrows her eyes at him. "Later we're going to have a conversation about how you're the worst best friend ever and how it should never take you this long to introduce me to your boyfriend."

"Right," Derek says, tone dripping with sarcasm. "Because it should have taken longer."

Stiles looks from Derek to Erica and back again, feeling a little impressed at how they now seem to be in a staring match.

And a little bit giddy about having Erica call him Derek's boyfriend.

"Uhm, guys-," Stiles starts, only to be interrupted when the office doors burst open and a very flustered and very angry looking guy appears.

He does a double take when he sees Stiles standing behind Derek, eyes going to their hands still clasped together before focusing on Derek.

"Mr. Hale," he says through gritted teeth. "Why don't you step inside the office for a minute and help me."

Derek glares at the guy, who Stiles is pretty sure is Isaac, and then at Erica, and then turns to Stiles with the most apologetic look on his face Stiles' ever seen.

"Go on," Stiles says, letting go if his hand in favor of pushing at his shoulder. "Go do what you have to do. If I'm not here by the time you come back is because Erica ate me."

He hears a snort coming from Erica, Isaac's retreating footsteps, and a loud voice coming from the office, all the while never breaking his gaze from Derek's.

"You sure?" Derek asks, voice low. "You can still run."

"Like I'd ever leave you," Stiles rolls his eyes, ignoring the way his cheeks flush as he sees Erica smiling from the corner of his eye.

"Okay," Derek nods, clearing his throat. "I'll be right back."

"Good luck," Stiles says, and then leans in and brushes their lips together in a quick kiss. "I'll be here."

Derek nods once again before following after Isaac, closing the door behind him as he steps into the office.

"So," he hears Erica drawl out, snapping his attention back at her. "You're Stiles."

"Yep," Stiles confirms. "That's my na-"

Stiles stops abruptly, trying to spit out a mouthful of blond curls.

Because Erica is hugging him.

Tight.

Her arms are around his shoulders and her nails are biting against his shoulder blades and her cheek is pressed against the side of his neck and she's hugging him.

Tighter.

"I-," Stiles tries, raising an arm to pat Erica awkwardly on the back. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Erica says, sniffing a little.

"Uhm," Stiles mumbles, blinking rapidly.

Erica pulls back only long enough so she's able to stare at Stiles in the eye, her hands coming to rest over his shoulders as she smiles at him.

A wobbly smile, but an incredibly grateful one.

"You're the one who got Boyd to the hospital on time," Erica says, voice a little weak. "Thank you."

Stiles really thinks people should stop thanking him for just doing his job.

"You don't have to thank me," Stiles tells her as much.

"I want to," Erica says, squeezing his shoulders. "And not just because you made sure Boyd was okay, but also because you're the reason Derek is not that much of an asshole anymore."

Stiles frowns at that, "Derek was never an asshole."

"So you're saying he's more of a dick?" Erica asks, wicked gleam back in her eyes as she grins at him and lets her arms fall to her sides.

Oh, god," Stiles groans. "Not with the bad puns."

"Come on," Erica prompts. "You can tell me."

"I'm not telling you anything," Stiles says, staring at her with wide-eyes. "I don't even tell my friends that sort of stuff."

"So there is stuff to tell," Erica wiggles her eyebrows at him.

Stiles presses his lips shut, because truth is, there isn't.

He and Derek haven't done much more than just make out whenever they see each other. Make out until their lips are swollen and red and spit slick and their breathing erratic and their dicks-

Well, at least Stiles knows he's hard.

He's not so sure about Derek, because he can still feel some hesitance whenever Stiles makes a move to touch him below the waist.

So he tries not to.

He knows all about enthusiastic consent and taking his cues from body language and never doing anything if he's not absolutely one hundred percent sure the person he's with is on board with it.

His dad made sure of it.

Right after traumatizing him with a talk about safe sex and how his dad is not ready to be a grandfather for a long time yet and that just because there are only dicks involved it doesn't mean Stiles doesn't have to worry about catching any diseases.

Stiles was fourteen.

He still cringes whenever someone says the word 'sausage' anywhere near him.

"I don't even know you," Stiles tells her, even if that feels a little bit like a lie.

Erica calls him on it, "Derek's mentioned me. I know he did. And not just me, but Isaac and Boyd and the rest of his family, too. There's no way he texts you as much as he does without telling you everything that happens in his life."

Stiles opens and closes his mouth at that, because Erica is right.

But still.

"That still doesn't mean you get to know anything about our sex life," Stiles says, trying not to flinch when she narrows her eyes at him. "Or lack thereof."

Erica purses her lips together but doesn't say anything, staring at Stiles consideringly.

"Okay, you don't have to tell me anything," Erica says, and Stiles lets out a sigh of relief. That is until she adds, "But if you ever hurt him, I'll make your death look like an accident."

"My dad's the Sheriff," Stiles feels like he need to point out.

"And I'm a mechanic," Erica says, flipping her head over her shoulders.

"That doesn't make any sense," Stiles shakes his head at her.

"Doesn't it?" Erica tilts her head to the side, grinning.

"I'm not sure I like you."

"I think we'll get along great," Erica pats him on the cheek.

Before either of them can say anything the office door burst open and Derek and Isaac step out, and if looks could kill someone, Stiles is pretty sure that the guy who follows after them would already be lying dead on the ground.

"I'm sorry for the trouble, Mr. Daehler," Derek says, and Stiles can see a muscle ticking in his jaw.

"You should be," the guy sneers. "And don't think I'll be coming back here again."

He turns his back to Derek and Isaac and walks out of the garage, bumping hard against Stiles' shoulder when he passes him.

"Fucking asshole," Isaac mutters under his breath, eyes glued to the guy's back as his hands clench and unclench into fists.

"You okay?" Derek asks him, stopping in front of him and eyeing the spot on his shoulder Stiles is rubbing.

"I'm fine," Stiles waves a hand in front of him. "What's his problem, though?"

"He scratched his car," Derek explains, a hard expression on his face.

"And then he came here accusing us of doing it," Isaac says quietly, lips pressed into a thin line.

"So then you have to pay for the damage?" Stiles asks, incredulous. "What a fucking dick."

"We know," Derek, Isaac, and Erica say in unison.

"At least he won't be coming back anymore," Erica says, walking up to Isaac and getting an arm around his waist. "And if he does, I can always hide fish under his car seats."

"Thank you," Isaac pats her on the head. "That's very sweet of you."

"You're welcome," Erica smiles sweetly at him, kissing him on the cheek before stepping back. "Well, I have to get back to work. Stiles, it was a pleasure meeting you."

She winks at him before turning on her back and strutting back into the garage.

Stiles shakes his head at her, lips tugging up out of their own free will. It isn't until he looks back at Derek that he notices he has his eyes glued to Stiles', a frown on his face.

"What?"

"What did she tell you?"

"She asked me invasive questions about our relationship and I'm pretty sure she threatened to do something with my Jeep that'd result in, you know, my ultimate demise if I ever hurt your feelings," Stiles tells him, letting one of his hands come rest over Derek's chest. "And she also said she's pretty sure we'll be the best of friends."

He hears an snort from Isaac at that, and when Stiles glances at him it's to see him smirking at both of them.

"I'm glad she already threatened you," Isaac's smirk widens into a grin when Derek's head snaps to him. "That means I don't have to do it."

"I've been thoroughly warned," Stiles nods seriously. "You don't have to worry about it."

Isaac nods at him before stepping forward and offering him a hand, "I'm Isaac, by the way."

"I figured," Stiles shakes his hand, smiling. "I'm Stiles."

"Yeah, Derek's mentioned you," Isaac drawls out, Stiles biting down on his bottom lip when he glances at Derek and sees the tips of his ears getting red. "Actually, last night he was just telling us about-."

"We're leaving," Derek says before Isaac can finish his sentence, grabbing Stiles by the hand and practically dragging him out of the garage.

"Bye, Isaac!" Stiles yells over his shoulder. "It was very nice meeting you!"

Derek doesn't stop until they're by his bike, shoving a helmet at Stiles' chest before putting on his own.

Or at least trying to, until Stiles gets a hand on top of his head and holds on to his hair.

"Stiles."

"Derek," Stiles says quietly, crowding him against the bike as he brings another hand up to cup Derek's cheek, thumb tracing the soft skin under his eye. "What the fuck?"

"Don't," Derek says, the flush on his ears running down his neck and chest and up until it reaches his cheek as he stares at the ground. "Just, don't."

Stiles blinks at him a couple of times before getting a finger under Derek's chin and forcing him to look up.

Not that Derek helps, with the way he keeps looking to a point over Stiles' shoulder and not actually his eyes.

"If you're worried about me being mad that you talk to your friends about us, I'm not," Stiles says, still keeping his voice low and gentle. "I like that you do it. It means I'm a part of your life you want to share with the people you care about, and that's a good thing. Now if you're angry because you think Isaac violated your bro code by telling me you talk to him about me, then you need to speak to him instead of taking it out on me."

"Bro code?" Derek snorts, looking up at Stiles for a second before looking down again.

"Bro code," Stiles nods seriously. "It's an important code between bros that you must never ever break, otherwise you'll suffer horrific consequences chosen by the bro you share the code with that'll insure maximum pain and humiliation for you until they feel like you've redeemed yourself enough to be their bro again."

"Nothing that just came out of your mouth made any sense," Derek states, sounding a little awed.

"You only say that because you've never had to walk around town shirtless with a Care Bear drawn to your chest just to get your friend to speak to you again."

Derek shakes his head a little at Stiles, his shoulders relaxing as he lets his head drop forward unto Stiles' chest.

Stiles lets go of the hold he has on Derek's hair in favor of carding his fingers through it, hooking his chin on top of Derek's head and just enjoying the closeness, waiting for Derek to gather his thought and say what he has to say.

Because this is something Stiles has also learned about Derek.

He likes to think about what he wants to say before he does, to make sure he's making his point clear and that everyone understands what he means and what he wants.

Stiles wonders if he's always been like this, or if something - or someone - made him like this.

"I'm sorry," Derek mumbles, rubbing his nose against Stiles' shirt. "I don't really introduce people to my friends."

Stiles blinks at that, a little startled.

"By people you mean what?"

"People I care about."

"And when you say you don't really introduce them you mean what?"

"I mean never have before," Derek explains, and Stiles is glad he has his face buried against his chest so he won't see Stiles gaping. "Not really."

"So what you're saying is," Stiles licks his lips, trying to understand. "Is that you never introduced people you care about to your friends."

"Yes."

"Because you're scared they'll scare the person off?" Stiles tries.

Derek doesn't say anything.

"Or because you've never really cared about anyone before to go through the trouble of doing it?"

Derek still doesn't say anything, and Stiles wonders if Derek can feel the rapid beat of his heart against his forehead.

"Or because you did and something happened?" Stiles asks, and then adds, "Something bad?"

Derek nods, just a minor movement to his head that Stiles doubts he would have noticed if it wasn't for the fact that Derek practically has his face glued to Stiles chest.

"There's a story there, isn't there?" Stiles whispers, pressing his lips against Derek's skull.

Derek nods again.

"Okay," Stiles says after a while, letting his hand rest against the back of Derek's neck and squeezing a little. "Okay. You don't have to tell me. Not until you're ready. Right now we can just get on the bike and ride around until you decide you want to stop. And even then you don't have to say anything. We don't have to say anything. There's no need for us to talk at all unless you want us to, alright? And even then we can talk about something else instead of this. Okay?"

Derek nods one final time, tilting his head up and closing his eyes, lips parted a little as if asking for a kiss.

Stiles happily obliges, leaning forward and pressing their lips together, slow and soft and gentle, and pulling back only to place a kiss on Derek's forehead before kissing him again.

Derek lets out a content sigh and opens up for him, letting Stiles lick past the seam of his lips and suck his tongue into his mouth.

They only break apart when they hear Erica's voice coming from inside the garage, yelling, "We don't pay you to kiss cute boys in front of your Uncle's garage, Derek!"

"You don't pay me anything, anyway!" Derek barks back, cheeks reddening.

"Alright, big guy," Stiles says, biting down on his lower lip and trying not to laugh at how embarrassed Derek looks. He puts on his helmet and straddles the bike, arms coming around Derek's waist and fingers tapping against his stomach, "Let's go."

They ride for hours, Stiles pressed close to Derek, the streets of Beacon Hills passing them by until they reach the edges of the Preserve.

Derek stops there, taking his helmet off and turning around on the bike so his back is to the handlebars, hands on the back of Stiles' knees as he pulls him forward until Stiles' ass is cradled between Derek's legs.

And if Derek just presses their lips together instead of saying anything, well, it's not like Stiles is going to complain.

He's good at waiting.

And for Derek, he'd wait forever if he has to.

---

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" Stiles asks as he opens the door to his apartment and lets Derek inside.

"I told you that's not how surprises work," Derek mumbles against his lips as he leans in for a quick kiss.

"And I told you it could be."

"But it's not," Derek says, giving him a blank stare when Stiles pouts at him.

"You're no fun," Stiles sighs, pushing Derek down on the couch. "Okay, just sit there looking pretty while I finish getting ready."

"Don't forget the sunscreen," Derek yells after him as Stiles makes his way to his bedroom to gather his things.

When he comes back to the living room is to find Derek watching tv with his feet up on his coffee table, a small and relaxed smile on his face appearing as soon as he sees Stiles staring at him.

"You ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Stiles waves a hand in front of him. "Since, you know, I have no idea where we're going."

Derek rolls his eyes at him and gets up, taking Stiles hand in his as Stiles locks up the apartment and leave.

They climb on Derek's bike and he rides off, Stiles trying to concentrate on his surroundings to see if he can figure out where they're going before Derek gets them there.

The only thing he can really tell is that Derek's taking them somewhere outside of Beacon Hills, making him more and more excited to see what he has planned as the minutes pass by.

It wasn't until an hour later that he got to see it, though, when Derek parked the bike around a stretch of land in what Stiles thinks is the middle of nowhere. The only reason he's not freaking out is because by Derek's bike there are about a hundred different ones, all parked neatly in a row.

Stiles slips off his helmet and looks around him with eyes wide and cheeks flush in excitement, beaming at Derek when he sees him grinning at him.

"Oh my god," Stiles breathes out, practically vibrating in place.

Derek shrugs one shoulder and shifts on his heels, running a hair through his hair as the tips of his ears start to flush, "You said you wanted to learn more about- What were your exact words again?"

"Your Hot Guy Leather Wearing Badass Looking Biker Community," Stiles tells him, giving him a sharp nod.

"Yes, that," Derek rolls his eyes at him before spreading his arms wide and gesturing around them. "So here we are."

Stiles has to bite down on his lip to keep down his squeal of excitement, settling instead for throwing his arms around Derek's shoulders and smacking a kiss on his lips.

If he gets more teeth than anything else because Derek is smiling at him, well, it's not like he cares.

"Show me bike stuff," Stiles says as he pulls back, grinning when Derek just throws an arm around his waist and says, "As you wish."

There are all kinds of stalls set up along the way, from selling gear to customized helmets to fry food to tattoos, people going from one to the other and back again as they made their way through the crowd. Right at the end there's a stage set up, speakers set alongside it and broadcasting the band playing up there.

Stiles' still grinning, eyes taking in everything around him, lingering in interest as he sees a couple walking by them, both of them covered in tattoos.

That seems like to be a theme here, you know, aside from all the leather.

"You don't have any tattoos," Stiles frowns at Derek, staring at his bare arms.

"Maybe you just haven't seen them yet," Derek raises both his eyebrows at him, eyes glinting in amusement as Stiles' mouth drops open and his eyes glaze a little.

Because that's most definitely a real possibility.

That Derek has a tattoo and Stiles still hasn't seen it.

Mostly because he hasn't seen Derek naked yet.

Or just without his pants.

Or a shirt.

Actually, the only parts of Derek that Stiles has seen without cloth covering it are his arms, hands, neck, and face, and he's feeling a little bit robbed right now.

"I'm feeling a little bit deprived right now," Stiles says quietly, pressing his lips together as he rakes his eyes up and down Derek's body. "Can you tell me what it is?"

"No."

"Can you tell me where it is?"

"Also no."

"Can you tell me why you're the worst boyfriend ever?"

"Because you like it," Derek tells him, placing a kiss on the tip of Stiles' nose.

Stiles makes a face at him, because it's not like he can deny it.

Not like he even wants to deny it.

"You're the worst," Stiles grumbles, scowling.

"Does this mean you don't want me to win you a plush bear in Harley Davidson gear at the water gun game?"

"I'll win one myself," Stiles lifts his chin at him, eyes narrowed.

Derek's lips tug up at the determined look on Stiles' face as he grabs Derek's hand and leads them to the stall where said game is being offered, buying himself a ticket and grabbing a gun.

Not only does Stiles win it, but he walks back to Derek with a smug look on his face and shoves the bear right against Derek's chest.

"Here, baby," Stiles winks at him. "This one's for you."

And then promptly walks back to the booth so he can win one for himself.

When he walks back to Derek with his own toy - a bunny, thank you very much - on his arm, it's only to see him staring down at his biker bear with a look that's pure warmth and affection.

And embarrassment, if judging by the way his neck is flushed.

He gets a hand around the heated skin and presses a kiss to the corner of Derek's mouth, waiting until Derek turns his head to him so they can press their lips together in a soft kiss.

"Want to go check out the stage?" Stiles asks, settling comfortably by Derek's side as they resume walking.

Derek just gives him a shrug in response, every once in a while glancing back down at the hand that was holding his plush toy.

Stiles tries to keep his confusion at that from showing on his face, wondering if Derek keeps staring at it because he thinks it was a cute gesture, or because he can't believe Stiles would make such a gesture, or because he's not used to people doing things like that with him, for him.

He gets distracted from his worries when they start walking by a row of Harleys, all of different shapes and sizes, and Derek actually stops to talk to a few of the owners exposing their bikes and ask them question about maintenance work and cost and other things that honestly just make Stiles want to jump him.

Which is why, as soon as Derek bids on of the patrons goodbye, Stiles plasters himself to his side and leans in close to whisper, "You sound so sexy when you're talking bikes," against the shell of his ear.

Derek trips on his own feet, Stiles reaching out a hand and grabbing him by the back of his shirt before he can fall face down on the floor.

Derek glares at him, Stiles not paying any attention to that whatsoever as he presses his smile against the side of Derek's neck, his shoulder shaking with silent laughter.

"I should just leave you here," Derek mutters under his breath, lips curling up when Stiles gasps in mock-offence.

"You would never."

Derek rolls his eyes at him, grabbing his hand and entwining their fingers together, "Food?"

"Is awesome," Stiles nods, pretending not to know where Derek is going with this only so he can see Derek sigh dramatically at him.

It's one of Stiles favorite past times, actually, annoying Derek so much he gives him the sigh, complete with shoulder movements and his lips pressing together in a hard line.

"Stiles."

"Derek."

"Do you want to grab something to eat or should I just leave you to starve for the rest of the day?"

"You should never leave me to starve," Stiles tells him seriously. "Because your ass would be the first to go. I'm serious. I wouldn't even hesitate. I'd take a bite first and think about the consequences later."

"I don't know if I should be concerned about your mental health or take what just came out of your mouth as a compliment," Derek frowns at him.

"Take me to the stand selling hot dogs, is what you should do," Stiles pats him on the chest before pointing a finger to said stand.

Derek rolls his eyes at him, but still changes direction so they're walking towards the hot dog stand.

They get in line to buy their food, Derek playing with the fine hairs at the nape of Stiles neck while Stiles stares down at his bunny and makes a thoughtful sound at the back of his throat.

"What do you think I should name him?" Stiles asks, and then pointedly looks at Derek's bear. "What do you think we should name them?"

"I'm not naming it," Derek huffs.

"It's not an it," Stiles says, all mock offense. "It's a him. And he needs a name. Both of them do."

"How do you know it's a him?"

Stiles gives him his best I'm not taking any of your shit today, Derek Hale look.

"He looks grumpy," Stiles explains, and then points a finger at Derek's face. "Just like you."

"We're not naming him Derek," Derek glares at him, proving Stiles' point.

"Of course not, that'll be-," Stiles cuts off, eyes going wide before his lips break into delighted smile.

"Oh god," Derek groans, and Stiles feels a little bit giddy at the way Derek obviously got that from him. "You thought of something, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"And it's awful, isn't it?"

"It's brilliant, okay?" Stiles tells him, still smiling like an idiot.

"I'm not even going to ask," Derek eyes him warily.

"Good," Stiles pats him on the shoulder. "That way you won't object when I name him Der Bear."

It's Derek's turn to give him his most unimpressed stare, not that Stiles cares, not when he can see the way Derek's lips curl up in the ghost of a smile.

"Der Bear?"

"Yes," Stiles nods, and then looks down at him own toy and wiggles it in front of Derek's face. "You can name mine if you want to."

"Do I have to?"

Stiles purses his lips together, trying not to look a little hurt at Derek's disregard for their toys. "Yes, you have to."

Derek nods thoughtfully at him, staring down at the bunny in Stiles' hand as he considers, "Can I have some time to think about it?"

"Since not everybody can be a naming genius like me," Stiles sighs, trying to sound put out.

He fails when Derek pokes him in the ribs, making him yelp, before leaning in for a quick kiss.

Before Stiles can retaliate it's their turn to order, both of them asking for a complete BBQ chili hot dog and a Coke.

They're waiting for their food by the side of the line, Stiles eagerly watching as the hot dog is put together, when they hear a voice calling, "Derek?"

Stiles turns to see Isaac smiling at them, his arm thrown over the shoulder of a girl with long brown hair and the Hale trademark eyebrow raise.

That is currently aimed at Stiles and Derek's plush toys.

He feels Derek tense against him, and when he glances at him Derek is staring at the other couple with his best deer caught in the headlights expression.

When he makes no motion to introduce Stiles to them or even say anything, really, Stiles takes matters into his own hands, extending a hand forward and putting on his biggest smile as he shakes Isaac's hand, "Hi, Isaac."

"Hey, Stiles," Isaac smirks at him, eyes going to the girl by his side who is eyeing Stiles up and down. "This is Cora, my girlfriend."

"And Derek's sister," Cora adds, grinning at him and tilting her chin up in acknowledgement.

"It's very nice meeting you," Stiles tells her. "Derek's told me a lot about you."

And about your sex life, Stiles wants to say.

He settles for resting a hand under the small of Derek's back and hoping to ease some tension from his body.

Not that it works that much.

Not when Cora says, "I think it's only fair since he can never shut up about you."

Derek's body locks up tight at that, eyes narrowing into slits as he stares at his younger sister and grunts, "Cora."

"Derek," Cora smiles sweetly at him. "So nice of you to join in on the conversation."

Derek's lips curl downward as he continues to glare at his sister, Stiles looking from Derek to her and back again.

He has no idea what's happening here, only that he's starting to feel slightly uncomfortable by Derek's reluctance to do anything other than scowl at his younger sister.

Anything like, let's say, actually introduce Stiles, his boyfriend, to her.

"Well," Stiles drawls out, deciding that staring at Isaac might be his safest bet. "Are you guys having fun?"

"Yeah," Isaac says, like it's not big deal that his girlfriend and her brother are currently in a staring match that involves a lot of eyebrow and lip twitching. "We were just going to grab something to eat before heading home."

And maybe it isn't.

Maybe Cora and Derek do this all the time.

But it still doesn't change the fact that this is the first time Stiles has ever met her, and Derek didn't even go through the trouble of making Stiles feel like bumping into one of his family members is no big deal.

"The hot dogs look good," Stiles suggest, still painfully aware Derek hasn't said anything since Isaac and Cora saw them.

Aside from uncomfortable, Stiles is also starting to feel a little hurt, a little bit like Derek doesn't want him to be near his friends and family.

And Stiles remembers the conversation they had when Derek took them for a ride after being called in to the garage when Stiles was with him. He remembers how Derek nodded when Stiles asked if the reason why he was so hesitant to mix a romantic relationship with the relationship he had with his family was because something bad had happened before they got together.

Still, the ice cold feeling Stiles gets at the bottom of his stomach the few times Derek has done this doesn't sit well with him.

But he knows now is not the time to talk to Derek about any of this, and he also knows that even though he wants some kind of explanation, he might not get it. Because as much as Derek has opened up to him since they met, he still has trouble talking about, well, feelings.

Which Stiles thinks it's a really weird thing about him, considering how much of what he feels always shows on his face.

And then he remembers Mrs. Hale's words from that day in the ambulance, that Derek is more of a man of action.

And then he feels even worse about all of this, because Derek's actions right now are showing that he wants to be anywhere other than here, with Stiles and his sister and one of his closest friends.

It's right then that Derek and Stiles' order gets called, Derek grabbing their food with a muttered thank you and Stiles going for their sodas and licking his lips at the smell of chili in the air.

Stiles turns to Isaac and Cora to ask if they want them to share a table with both of them, but before he can say anything Derek butts in and says, "We should probably get going."

He does it anyway, though, Derek's anti-social tendencies be dammed.

"Do you guys want us to save a seat for you?" Stiles grins at the other couple, ignoring the death glare Derek sends his way.

"That's okay," Cora shakes his head at him, not bothering to look back at her brother. "We'll probably walk around some more while we're eating."

"You sure?"

"Positive," Isaac answers, nodding at him.

"Okay, then," Stiles says lightly, rocking back on his heels. "Well, it was nice seeing you. And meeting you, Cora."

"You too," they say in unison, Isaac giving him a nod and Cora a smile before they resume walking around.

If Stiles thought meeting Derek's mother while having to take care of an injured Boyd was awkward, that has nothing on what he's feeling right now.

So he turns around and makes his way to the plastic tables set up near the booths, ignoring Derek's presence as he trails behind him.

He sits down and places one of the soda cans in front of him, making grabby hands for his hotdog as Derek settles in across from him on the table.

"Stiles," Derek starts, only to have Stiles take a huge bite out of his hot dog and pretend he didn't hear anything.

Stiles moans around his mouthful of food, wiping the chili gathered at the corner of his mouth with a thumb before sucking it clean and saying, "Yummy."

"Bunny," Derek tries again, leaning forward on his seat and lowering his voice. "I'm sorry."

Stiles purses his lips together, because that's not fucking fair.

"What are you sorry about?" Stiles asks him, pressing his lips together as he waits for Derek's answer.

Derek opens and closes his mouth a few times before sighing and as staring at Stiles with a lost look on his face.

Derek has them a lot, those lost looks.

Almost always after he apologizes, as if he's sure he's done something wrong but can't quite figure out what it is.

Which, right now? So not the case.

"I shouldn't have acted like that," Derek says, finally founding his words.

"You really shouldn't," Stiles agrees, and then adds, "It was rude to Isaac and your sister and uncomfortable and embarrassing to the rest of us."

"I'm sorry. It's just- You know it's hard for me to-," Derek scrubs a hand over his face, taking his time to think about what he wants to say before staring straight at Stiles and doing it "I'm used to keeping people away from them. I've been doing it for years and it's second nature to me by now. I'm not doing it because I'm ashamed of you or because I don't like you or because I don't think you're good enough for me. I'm doing it because that's- that's-"

"That's what you do," Stiles finishes for him, not knowing if he should be feeling extremely pissed or extremely sad right now.

"Yes," Derek breathes out. "And it's going to take me a while before I can't break out of it. Before it's not something I do anymore, just something I did."

Stiles doesn't say anything for a while, taking another bite of his hot dog as he thinks about what Derek just said.

Or rather, what must have happened to Derek to make him say something like that in the first place.

It's about three minutes later filled with a lot of intense staring from Derek that Stiles nods his head and offers him a warm smile, "Okay."

"Okay?" Derek asks him, expression equal parts relieved and surprised.

"Yes," Stiles states firmly. "I know there's a reason why you did what you did, but I also know our relationship is new and it's going to take us awhile before we feel comfortable sharing certain parts of ourselves with each other. I feel like this is a part of you that's related to a much bigger one that you still don't want me to know or know how to tell me, so I'm going to respect that. But I still have to let you know that I didn't like the way it felt when Isaac and Cora came to talk to us and you didn't even make an effort to talk to them or introduce me to your sister, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't do it again," Stiles gives him a pointed look at that, and then adds, "Now, if in the future we find ourselves in a similar situation where you feel like you need to get away from your family, talk to me. Talk to me instead of shutting down or walking away or dragging me away."

Derek stares at him some more before giving him a stiff nod and saying, "Okay."

"Good," Stiles smiles brightly at him, feeling a little bit better about this whole thing. "Now eat your hot dog."

They eat in silence for a while, staring down at the crowd of people walking around, the bikes, the lights on the stage, just basking in the summer sun and each other's company.

Stiles doesn't even notice the way Derek keeps looking at his bunny until he blurts out, "Bunny Yummy."

"Waaaa?" Stiles asks as he turns to him, mouth full.

"Your bunny," Derek points at the plush toy. "That's what I'm calling it."

Stiles grabs his soda and takes a big gulp to wash down his hot dog, licking his lips before as he blinks at Derek, "Bunny Yummy?"

"Yes."

"Bunny Yummy?"

"Again, yes."

"Oh my god."

"What's wrong with Bunny Yummy?" Derek frowns at him, lips pressed in a thin line.

"Nothing," Stiles says quickly, shaking his head and trying to bite down a smile. "Nothing at all. Aside from the fact that hearing you say the words Bunny Yummy is about the cutest thing I've ever seen."

Derek's jaw clenches as he stares down at his own food, frown still present as he huffs out a, "Shut up."

"Hey," Stiles says softly, hugging his bunny tightly to his chest with his free hand. "I like it. No, scratch that, I love it, actually. I'll never call this bunny anything other than Bunny Yummy from this day forward. Or maybe just Yummy, for short."

Derek looks back up at him from under his lashes and offers him a small smile, which Stiles returns, before pointing at Stiles' hot dog and saying, "If you don't finish this soon we'll miss the final show."

"I doubt not getting to see a Steppenwolf cover band will ruin my day," Stiles rolls his eyes at him, but going back to eating anyway.

"But it's so cool when everyone sings Born To Be Wild together," Derek says in his most dry tone, face completely blank.

And three hours later, after the sun goes down and the spotlights are on and the people are singing and Derek pulls him into a BBQ chili flavored kiss, Stiles can't help but agree.

---

"How did you manage to talk me into this?"

Derek doesn't even bother looking back at him, just keeps on walking forward.

"Oh, right. There was no talking. There was only kissing. And next thing I know I'm dying of dehydration in the middle of the fucking woods."

A bottle of water flies at him at that, followed by Derek's exasperated voice saying, "You're not dying."

"But I am," Stiles whines, flopping down on the ground in front of a tree and leaning back against it. "You'll have to go on without me. Tell my father and Scott I've loved them with all my heart and that no, Scott absolutely cannot have my Xbox. That goes to Danny."

Derek lets out a snort and sits down beside him, shaking his head when Stiles grabs hold of his arm and hooks it over his shoulder, wiggling in place until he can lean back against Derek's chest instead of the tree trunk.

"Now that's what I'm talking about," Stiles sighs, patting Derek in the knee.

"You're a paramedic," Derek says, breath ghosting over the top of Stiles' head. "Aren't you supposed to be in shape?"

"I am!" Stiles protests, slapping Derek on the thigh. "I'm in shape for running into buildings and up flights of stairs and helping carry men twice my size to my ambulance."

"But not walking around in the woods," Derek fills in.

"Not walking around in the woods."

"Then why did you agree to go hiking?" Derek asks, lying his hand flat against Stiles' chest.

"Because you were kissing me!" Stiles turns around, gaping at Derek like the answer should be obvious. "I can't think straight when you have your tongue down my throat."

"Oh, really?" Derek smirks at him, eyes crinkling at the corners.

He looks fucking gorgeous and Stiles is so fucking lucky to be the one Derek shares those smiles with.

"Yes, really," Stiles makes a face at him, lips curling up at the corners. "I think I would have agreed to cut off my own arm if you asked while you kept kissing me like that."

Derek makes a humming sound at the back of his throat, leaning in to mouth at Stiles' temple and whisper, "Good to know."

"Oh, god," Stiles groans, turning back heavily against Derek's chest. "You're totally going to use that to your advantage now, aren't you?"

"Yes," Derek nods, pressing a smile against the side of Stiles' head.

Stiles huffs, dropping his head against Derek's shoulder and looking up at the sky.

If he's being honest, today is probably the perfect day to go on an activity like this: the sky clear and the weather not too warm, a light breeze rattling the trees and ghosting over Stiles' sweaty skin.

The only problem is that Stiles is not used to walking around the woods for countless hours without taking a break.

Well, at least not anymore.

Not since he graduated high school and stopped coming around the Preserve so much.

"If you're too tired, we can go back to the house," Derek suggests, making Stiles frown.

"You mean ride back to my apartment."

"No," Derek says slowly, shifting in place so he can stare at Stiles in the face. "I mean walk to my old house. Where mom and Uncle Peter and Laura are living."

Stiles blinks again, still not understanding.

Because the only house in a walking distance from here are the old ruins.

The old burned ruins.

Where a family used to live in until it caught fire due to faulty wiring and almost all of the residents died.

And that can't possibly mean what Stiles thinks it means.

Because if it does, that means those people were Derek's family, and Stiles doesn't know if he can deal with that information.

"Stiles?" Derek frowns down at him.

Derek's voice sounds very far away, muffled by the blood ringing in Stiles' ears as he tries to grasp what the fuck just happened.

"The house," Stiles croaks out, blinking repeatedly as he looks up at Derek. "Your house."

Derek just frowns harder at him, hand coming up to cup the side of Stiles' neck, thumb pressing against his pulse point.

That little point of pressure helps ground him more than anything has so far, his eyes raking over Derek's worried features as he takes a deep breath and tries to tell him what he knows.

"I used to- There were-," Stiles shakes his head. "The fire. It was your family."

Understanding dawns on Derek, expression shutting down as he presses his finger down harder against Stiles' throat.

"I thought you knew," Derek rasps out.

"I didn't," Stiles says quietly, desperately. "I didn't. I was too little when it happened and when I met you I just. It never clicked. I never even thought about how you- that the last name was the same. I- Derek."

Derek shakes his head at him, lips pressing together as he looks out the trees, entire body tense as if waiting for something.

Stiles doesn't know what.

He's just glad Derek still hasn't made any moves to dislodge him from his place half-propped against Derek's chest, or to take his hand off his neck.

"We were out of town for one of Laura's swimming competitions," Derek tells him after what must have been around ten minutes - or ten years - of sitting in silence with that knowledge floating around between them. "Me, Laura, Cora, mom and dad. We only heard about what happened when we got a call from the Sheriff's office, telling us maybe we should come home," Derek lets out a bitter laugh at that, voice going flat as he keeps going. "They didn't tell us something was wrong. We were all still young enough to be kept in the dark, and it wasn't until about the third day we were back here and staying at a hotel that they sat us down and told us we didn't have a house anymore. That we didn't have a family anymore."

Derek chokes out the last part, his voice cracking. Stiles turns so he's sitting sideways on the ground, getting a hand around Derek's waist and pulling him close as he rests his forehead against Derek's temple.

"Baby, I'm so sorry," Stiles rasps out against Derek's cheek, Derek's hand falling from his neck to curl against the fabric of his shirt as he tugs Stiles' close.

"They were sleeping when the fire started in the basement. When they managed to wake up the first floor was already- They didn't even have a chance," Derek says, voice low and broken. "Uncle Peter was in the hospital for five months, with burns and trouble breathing. He was working late at the garage that day, and when he got to the house he tried to-"

"Hey," Stiles shushes him, rubbing circles over Derek's stomach with his hand. "We don't have to-"

"As soon as he got the okay to get out of the hospital," Derek interrupts him, as if now that he started telling Stiles about what happened, he can't stop. "We packed up our things and moved. All the way to the other side of the country. And we never looked back. Not until-"

Derek cuts off abruptly, and Stiles gets a sick feeling in his stomach that the heartache doesn't end there.

That there's more to the story that he's not going to like, more to the story that is bad and hurtful and sad.

He doesn't ask, though, not when Derek doesn't offer anything else, not when his body locks up as if trying to protect him from something.

Stiles just sits there quietly, curled up against Derek's side, his lips ghosting over Derek's jaw as he keep moving his hand up and down Derek's chest.

It takes him a long time before he starts feeling Derek relax against him, and even then he does it slowly, muscle by muscle, until his head falls back against the tree with a thud and he lets out a deep breath.

Stiles kisses him on the cheek, letting his hand stop when it passes over Derek's heart.

"I'm sorry," Derek gruffs, voice cracking a little. "I made things depressing."

Stiles gapes at him, sitting up and letting Derek's arm fall off his shoulder.

"Oh my god," Stiles says loudly when he sees the lost look on Derek's face. "I- Derek."

"I'm sorry," he says again, staring down at the his lap.

Stiles makes a choked-up noise in the back of his throat before cupping Derek's face in his hands and making him look up.

He doesn't like how Derek purposely avoids eye contact whenever he thinks Stiles is angry at him about something.

It leaves him with a bad taste in his mouth that something happened to Derek to make him slump on himself whenever he thinks he screwed things up.

"You don't have to be sorry," Stiles says firmly, staring at Derek straight in the eye, unblinking. "You never have to be sorry when you're talking about your family to me, okay? I want to know about this stuff, and I want you to feel comfortable whenever you want to talk to me about them. And I know sometimes what you have to say will be depressing and it'll hurt, but I still want to know. I still want you to share it with me, alright?"

Derek nods, swallowing hard before closing the distance between them and taking Stiles' lips in his. He keeps the kiss sweet, almost chaste, pulling back only after a couple of seconds.

"Still want to see the house?" Derek offers, staring at Stiles with such vulnerability and hesitant hope that all Stiles can do is nod back at him and whisper, "Yes."

The walk to where the house is located is not as long as Stiles thought it would be, something which he's grateful for. And Derek keeps pace with him, their hands clasped together, making sure to stop every other fifteen minutes or so for water breaks for Stiles.

When the house comes into view, Stiles can't help but gasp and stop right where he stands, staring at it with wide eyes and mouth open until Derek lets out a snort and tugs on his hand.

"Come on," Derek gives him a small smile. "You can stare at it later."

"It's just-," Stiles blinks at the house. "It's just-"

"Whole?" Derek tries, and Stiles has to say he likes how Derek seems to be able to joke about this when an hour ago he was telling Stiles about one of the worst moment in his life in this house. "Mom and Uncle Peter decided to renovate it when they got a letter from the county saying they were going to take it if we didn't do something about it."

"It's beautiful," Stiles says reverently.

Because it really is.

It's big and bright and, yes, whole, but it also looks lived in.

It looks cozy and warm and like it just wants to take you inside and feed you cookies and make all of your problems go away.

And Stiles knows how weird it is to be feeling like this about something as simple as a house, but he can't help it.

It feels like home away from home for him even though he's only ever known the ruins.

He doesn't tell Derek as much, though, just lets him drag him to the front door and inside the house as he yells, "Mom! You have guests!"

"You're not a guest!"

Derek rolls his eyes as he starts walking into the direction of the voice, Stiles' eyes too busy taking in the pictures and furniture and painted walls to pay attention to where they're going.

That is until they step into the biggest fucking kitchen he's ever seen and comes face to face with Derek's mom.

"Oh."

"Well," Mrs. Hale drawls, smiling at them. "Isn't this a surprise."

"I told you you had guests," Derek lets go of Stiles' hand in favor of walking up to his mom and kissing her on the cheek.

"Like Isaac tells me I have guests anytime he wants me to make him lemonade?" she raises an eyebrow at him.

"Isaac is not your kid."

"Please," Mrs. Hale snorts, and then turns her attention to Stiles. "It's nice seeing you again, Stiles."

"You too," Stiles says, trying to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat now that he knows what happened to them.

"I take it by the way your shirt looks like it's permanently stuck to you body is because Derek took you hiking?"

Stiles looks down at himself, his sweat-soaked shirt clinging to the middle of his chest.

"I think his plan was to walk me to death," Stiles glares at Derek, pointing a finger at himself.

Derek rolls his eyes at him.

"That sounds like him," she says, patting Derek on the cheek when he flushes under her gaze. "Now, why don't you give Stiles a tour of the upstairs bathroom and the spare clothes you left here while I fix you two something to eat?"

"Thanks, mom," Derek mumbles quietly, taking Stiles' hand again.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hale," Stiles throws over his shoulder as Derek pulls him out of the kitchen.

"You can call me Talia!" she tells after them.

"You know I've met your mom before, right?" Stiles asks when Derek doesn't stop dragging him through the house and up the staircase. "So there's no need for you to get me as far away from her as you possibly can."

"Sorry," Derek winces, slowing his step. "I just don't want you to stay in sweaty clothes."

"If you wanted me out of my shirt, all you had to do was ask," Stolea sighs, teasing.

"I'll keep that in mind," Derek deadpans.

Derek leads him down a hallway, stopping in front of a door at their left and opening it, ushering Stiles inside with a hand against the small of his back.

The room is almost bare with the exception of a bed posted in the middle of it and a dresser on the right far wall, a few knickknacks left on top of it and a hoodie dangling from one of the half opened drawers.

Derek doesn't let him linger, pushing him forward until they get to the bathroom, which is just as spacious as the bedroom they were just in.

Stiles whistles as he sees the number of showerheads in the big shower, turning to stare at Derek and wiggle his eyebrows.

"Nice digs," he says, grinning when Derek just makes a face at him.

"Laura has a thing for showers," Derek explains. "She says she wouldn't accept anything other than pure fucking spa goodness whenever she had to wash her hair."

"Your mom must have loved that."

"It was actually Uncle Peter who agreed on it," Derek says, and at Stiles' surprised stare he explains, "He's big on comfort."

Stiles nods.

He thinks if he was the one who had to spend five months in a hospital with burns on his body and having trouble breathing because he tries to save his family from certain death, he'd be big on comfortable things too.

"So who's bathroom is this?" Stiles asks, trying to stop any thoughts from the fire from roaming his mind. "Laura's?"

Not that he succeeded much.

Not now that he knew Derek's family was the one that suffered, the one that died.

His teenage obsession is looking a lot less like a safe heaven to him and a lot more like his worst kind of nightmare every second that passes.

Because when he was a kid, the house was nothing more than a reminder that there was someone out there who might have understood how he felt like when he lost his mom.

But now that he has names and faces to go with it, it's turning into nothing more than bitter understanding that someone lost their family.

That their lives were turned upside down and ripped apart just like his when his mom died.

And even though he still feels some deep connection to the house like before, it's not as comforting as it used to be.

But it's also not as broken.

Because yes, something horrible happened here. But right now Mrs. Hale is making them sandwiches and there's light streaming through the open window into the bedroom and the shower stalls have a ridiculous number of heads because Laura wanted to.

What used to be the reminder of someone else's loss is now the proof that you can have something good again.

Something whole.

"No," Derek says, shifting in place a little before crossing his arms over his chest. "It was mine. Before I moved out."

"Oh," Stiles smiles slowly. "So that's why it looks like someone ransacked the place."

Derek huffs out a laugh, pointing a finger at one of the bathroom cabinets, "There are still some towels down there. I'll leave you a change of clothes on the bed. You can just leave your dirty ones on the hamper by the door and I'll pick them up to wash with mine after you're done."

Stiles purses his lips together, eyes following the direction Derek's finger is pointing before turning back to stare at him.

"Aren't you going to join me?" Stiles asks, voice low and a little rough as he leans into Derek's space.

"I- You- Stiles," Derek hisses, glancing at the door and back, the back of his neck reddening. "My mother is downstairs."

"So?" Stiles bites down on his bottom lip, trying not to laugh when Derek just gapes at him.

"So?" Derek's says in a high-pitched indignant tone.

Stiles can't keep his lips from twitching up.

"Alright, alright," Stiles raises his hands up in surrender. "I'll go take my shower without you in it and wait for you downstairs with your mom if I finish showering first."

Derek takes one hard look at him before nodding stiffly, taking a step back until Stiles gets a hand on his shirt and tugs him forward again.

"I want kisses before you go," Stiles pouts, not waiting for Derek as he leans in and presses their lips together.

Whatever discomfort Derek might have felt at Stiles' advances vanishes as Stiles feels him melt against him, hand coming up to the side of Stiles' neck, thumb tracing the edge of his jaw as Derek opens up for Stiles and deepens the kiss.

And then he lets go of Stiles completely and gets out of the bathroom, the skin on the back of his neck and his ears still red.

"Thank you!" Stiles yells out after him, closing the door and locking it.

He takes a look at himself in the mirror, his flushed and sweaty skin, his hair matted against his forehead with sweat, his shirt wet and clinging to his torso.

Stiles wrinkles his nose as he pulls his shirt off and throws it on the hamper by the bathroom door, turning on the shower before stepping out of his shoes, pants, boxer briefs, and socks.

When he steps into the shower, the first splash of water running down his back is like heaven, Stiles groaning like he's never felt anything this good, ever. He just stands there for a minute or maybe ten, letting his muscles relax under the hot spray as he rolls his shoulders and trades his fingers through his hair.

It still takes him a little while to get moving and get to actually washing himself, his eyes raking over the few bottles still left in the bathroom in search for something he can use.

He grabs the one that reads 'bodywash' first, opens it, and immediately gets assaulted by the scent of Derek.

And now that Stiles is thinking about Derek, he's also thinking about how this is Derek's bathroom where he used to shower and maybe jerk off on a regular basis before he moved out.

He ignores the first twitch of interest from his dick as he starts lathering his body, ignores the second as he rinses, and ignores the third as he repeats.

By the time he gets to washing his hair with shampoo that also smells like Derek, he's already fully hard and more than ready to do something about it.

Because now it sunk in that Derek used to be in this same space as Stiles is, naked and wet, it's like he can't think about anything else.

Nothing else but Derek's hard and muscled body glistening with water as his hands brush over his skin as he takes a shower.

Nothing else but the droplets of water running down his chest and stomach, his back, past his hips and the swell of his ass.

Nothing else but his head thrown back as he rinses his hair, pale neck exposed, water gathering at the hollow of his throat.

He has his fingers wrapped around his dick before he's even aware of what he's doing, not even bothering to feel guilty about doing this in Derek's home while his mother is downstairs.

He's too busy thinking about what he'd do if Derek was here with him like he asked to care much about anything else other then getting himself off.

How he'd press close to him and catch droplets with his tongue, his lips warm against the wet skin of Derek's neck and collarbone.

How he'd press him up against the cold tiles and thumb and pinch at his nipples until they were red and Derek was shaking, canting his hips up looking for friction Stiles doesn't want to give him yet.

How he'd make Derek turn around and brace himself against the wall with his hands, legs spread wide, before he sunk down on his knees behind him and spread his cheeks apart.

How he'd tongue Derek open, eat him out until he was writhing and begging and pushing his ass back into Stiles' face.

And how he'd get him off just like that, with a hand on Derek cock and his tongue and a finger inside Derek's ass, Derek fucking into his fist as Stiles fucked him with his finger until he came with Stiles' name in his lips.

And how Stiles would finish off between his thighs, thrusting in between them and moaning whenever his cockhead bumped against the soft skin of Derek's balls.

But right now Stiles has to come by his own hand, those images of him and Derek swirling in his mind as he speeds up his movements and brings himself over the edge, spilling over his fingers and against the cold tiles of the shower.

He rests his forehead against the tiles as he catches his breath, washing off his come from the wall before turning off the shower and towelling himself dry and wrapping the towel around his waist.

He feels loose limbed and warm all over as he steps foot into Derek's bedroom again, spotting a bundle of clothes neatly folded on top of the bed.

He picks a shirt up and brings it to his nose, smelling the clean scent of detergent he associates with Derek before slipping it on.

There's also a pair of sweatpants that look like has seen better days, but no underwear.

Stiles gets this kind of giddy feeling as he pulls the pants up past his legs and ties the string at his hip as tight as he can - not that it does much, with the way it rides low as soon as he lets go of it.

Because these are Derek's clothes and they're a little too big on him and his junk is touching Derek's sweatpants without the added layer of underwear between them.

He makes his way down the stairs with a smug smile on his face that's soon replaced by curiosity as he notices that there aren't any pictures on the walls here at the house.

At least not that he can see.

His mind flashes to his and Derek's first date night, the bar's wall so cluttered with frames that you almost couldn't see the exposed brick behind it.

He wonders if that's on purpose, if the reason they don't keep any pictures here is because of what they lost in the fire, because they're afraid something else like that might happen again and the memories of their family will be lost.

Stiles looks down sadly at his bare feet on the stair steps and continues to climb down, following the sounds of someone moving around the house and coming back to the kitchen.

"Oh, there you are," Talia smiles when she sees him, waving a hand at him. "Sit down."

Stiles pointedly does as she asks him to, hopping on one of the chairs by the kitchen table and resting his chin on his hand.

"Do you need any help?" Stiles asks when he sees her taking something off the oven.

"Not anymore," she shakes her head, placing a tray in front of him on the table.

The smells of chocolate chip cookies fills the air, Stiles' mouth watering as he stares down at the perfectly shaped cookies in front of him.

He reaches a hand to take one of them, only to have it slapped by Derek's mom.

"I swear to god, it's like you're all still children," Talia says, rolling her eyes. "You just saw me taking that out of the oven."

"But," Stiles eyes the cookies with longing. "Cookies."

"They'll still be there in fifteen minutes."

Stiles sighs, looking around the kitchen at a loss for what to say.

Mrs. Hale doesn't look as intimidating now as she did when Stiles first met her, but maybe that's because he's already had the freak out of his life about having to interact with her when he was in the ambulance.

So he grasps the one topic of conversation other than Derek they have in common and runs with it.

"How's the bar going?"

She looks a little surprised at his question, but soon she's pushing a chair and sitting down in front of him, eyes dancing with excitement as she starts telling him about how things are right on schedule, how they just got the last of the permits they needed to open the bar, and how she and Laura already started planning the opening party.

"You should come," Talia tells him, pushing the tray of cookies in Stiles' direction.

"Come where?" Derek asks as he enters the kitchen in a pair of light jeans and a tight black shirt, his hair damp.

Stiles stops with a hand halfway to the cookie tray in order to drool at the picture he makes, only stopping when Derek comes up beside him and leans down to place a kiss on his forehead before stealing a cookie for himself.

"To the bar opening," Stiles explains.

Derek's entire body freezes at that as he stands there in the middle of the kitchen with a half-chewed cookie in his mouth.

He starts chewing back slowly, eyes going from Stiles to his mom and back again.

Talia gives her son a hard look before getting up, offering Stiles a comforting tap on the shoulder before she steps out of the kitchen saying, "I'll leave you two alone so Derek can invite you himself."

Stiles waits until he can't see her anymore before turning to Derek, "Is this one of those times you think you're going to scare me off because your friends and family are overbearing? Or is this one of those times you're accidentally trying to push me away because that's a thing you do."

Derek swallows hard before flopping down on the chair vacated by his mom, fingers playing with the loose crumbs in the cookie tray as he mumbles out a, "A little bit of both."

"You know that with the exception of your Uncle Peter, I've met them all, right?" Stiles asks. "And that there's no way I'll let you get away with that now that I know it's a thing you do."

"Not at the same time and not for that long," Derek shakes his head at him. "And yes."

"Then how about," Stiles tries, gesturing wildly. "Then how about I invite my friends?"

Derek blinks at him, eyes going a little wide and mouth opening and closing as he tries to think of something to say.

"That way I'll have someone to literally run to if I find that I can handle little doses of Hales but that everyone together at the same time is too much for me," Stiles explains, kind of excited but at the same time dreading the prospect of having his friends with him. "And that way you will also have people to run to when you inevitably realize my friends are just a bunch of crazy people!"

The smile Stiles offers him is supposed to be reassuring, but he thinks it comes out a little bit hysterical instead.

Because as much of a good idea as it is to bring everyone to the bar opening and having them meet each other at once, it's also a phenomenally bad worse terrible idea.

Derek tells him that much.

Well, sort of.

"Maybe you shouldn't come."

Stiles' breath hitches.

He understands where Derek is coming from, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

Because they've talked about this, about how Derek should come to him and talk if he feels like there's something wrong.

And he knows Derek has some deep fear about mixing their relationship with the one he has with his family, but Stiles doesn't know why.

He meant when he said he wouldn't make Derek talk to him about anything he wasn't ready to, but that still doesn't give Derek an open excuse to be a dick to him. He doesn't get to treat him badly When Stiles has no idea what he's done or said that was wrong.

Because Stiles is trying here, but a relationship is a two-way street and Derek needs to meet him halfway for them to work.

That's why Derek's words hit him like a punch in the gut.

Because it doesn't seem like Derek's trying.

At all.

It just seems like he's pushing Stiles away.

Again.

Something must have shown in his expression because Derek opens his mouth to say something, face going panicky and apologetic and worried.

Stiles just shakes his head at him and pushes his chair back, "Just drive me home."

"Stiles-"

"Please," Stiles says softly.

Derek snaps his mouth shut and gives him a curt nod, "Just let me put on my boots."

Stiles goes after his own shoes while Derek gathers his things, not even caring he's still wearing Derek's clothes and his are in the washer.

Derek's mom meets him when he steps into the living room, giving him a sad smile as she comes to stand in front of him.

"I told you once Derek's not good with words," she says, and Stiles has to press his lips together to tell her that no fucking shit and this is none of your fucking business. "He's also not good at letting people in. I don't know how much he's told you about our lives in New York-"

He didn't tell me anything," Stiles interrupts, letting out a bitter laugh.

"I'm sure he was just waiting for the right time," she tries to reassure him. "He's been hurt, my son. By someone he trusted. I won't say anything more because it's not my story to tell and I've already said too much, but that's why it's hard for him, to share some bits of himself with other people."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I think you're good for him," Talia offers him a kind smile. "And I think if there's anyone who can get Derek to open up and learn how to trust again, that person is you."

They hear Derek's footsteps coming down the stairs, Talia pulling him into a quick hug before saying, "You'll be fine," and disappearing into the direction of the kitchen.

Derek gives him a wary look when he sees him standing alone in the middle of the living room, but Stiles stops him with a, "Let's just go," before Derek can ask anything.

They only get to where Derek's bike is parked before Derek breaks and says, "We need to talk about this."

"You mean we need to talk about how sometimes it seems like you don't want me anywhere near your family for long periods of time?" Stiles snaps back at him, feeling instantly guilty when Derek flinches back. "Or how we've already had a conversation that looks a lot like this, but it seems like it went through one ear and out the other because you're doing it again. Pushing me away."

"It's not like that," Derek tries, refusing to look at Stiles.

"Then how is it, Derek?" Stiles asks, hands clenching into fists by his side. "Tell me. Because I feel like I'm walking on eggshells whenever we meet someone close to you. I keep thinking I'm doing or saying something wrong that's making you get all closed off and shutting me out and I don't like it, okay? I don't like not knowing if I did something wrong or if I did something that makes you feel like you have to hide me away from your family and the people you care about, like I'm not-," Stiles swallows hard, voice coming out in a whisper, "Like I'm not someone important to you, too."

"Stiles," Derek takes a step forward, reaching out a hand as if thinking of touching Stiles but giving up halfway and letting it fall limply by his head. "That's not- I don't want you to think that. I don't ever want you to think that."

"Then explain it to me, because you can't keep giving me nothing and expect me to just go along with it," Stiles throws his arms up, looking at Derek pleadingly. "I'm walking blind, here, Derek. And I don't like feeling guilty about something I'm sure has absolutely nothing to do with me. Now if I did something wrong, tell me so I can not do it in the future. And if you expect me not to fuck up, then you're gonna have to help me. And even then, I can't promise you that I won't do something along the way that'll piss you off. But I really really really fucking like you, and I want us to work, but for that you happen you have to want it, too."

"I want to," Derek croaks out. "I do."

"Then stop trying to push me away," Stiles' voice cracks, shoulder slumping on himself. "Let me in, let me get to know you, let me be there for you when you need me to."

"Stiles," Derek says, voice broken and hollow and so fucking desperate that Stiles doesn't even hesitate to take a step forward and rest their foreheads together, Derek's hands coming to grip at his hips. "I don't know how."

Stiles whines low in his throat, "Derek."

"I don't know how," Derek says again, holding on to Stiles as if he's the only thing keeping him here, keeping him whole. "I want to, but I don't-"

Stiles interrupts him before Derek can say it again, whispering against his lips that, "I'll teach you. If you let me. If you want me to. I'll do it."

"Yes," Derek says just as quietly. "I want you to. Please."

"I will, baby," Stiles promises him. "I will."

Derek chokes on a breath and tilts his head so his upper lip brushes against Stiles' lower one, opening his mouth when Stiles takes the hint and kisses him.

Stiles tries to put everything he has in that kiss, tries to show Derek how much he cares about him and how much he wants him and how much he wants them, together, for as long as Derek will have him.

Derek's nails are biting marks against the skin of his hip from over his shirt as he pulls Stiles roughly to him, arms going around Stiles' waist as he clings tightly to him as he kisses Stiles back just as desperately.

Stiles doesn't know how long they stay there, doesn't know when kisses turn into Derek pressing his face against the side of Stiles' neck as if hiding from the world, doesn't know when he starts trading his fingers through Derek's hair and whisper nothing in his ear until he feels Derek relax against him, little by little.

All he knows is that he doesn't like the way Derek pulls back, eyes trained to the ground as he says, "I'm sorry."

"I know," Stiles says tiredly, fingers tapping against Derek's temple until Derek looks up at him. "We'll be okay."

"Yeah?" Derek tries to give him a smile, failing when his lips curl down instead of up.

"Yeah," Stiles leans in and bumps their noses together. "Because now that I've got you, not even your ardent hate for words and your absolute disgust to talk about your feelings will be enough to make me let you go."

Derek snorts at that, expression a little less helpless as the tips of his ears flush red and he mumbles, "Good."

"I think so, too," Stiles offers him a small smile.

"Still want me to take you home?"

Stiles thinks about that.

As much as he wants to go back inside the house and eat more cookies while possibly cuddling with Derek on the couch, he feels like he needs some time to think.

About their relationship and Derek's reluctance to introduce Stiles into the circle of his family and the reason why he always seem to avoid any type of confrontation.

So he takes a deep breath and says, "Yes, I do."

Derek doesn't seem that surprised by his answer, if a little bit sad. He just nods and grabs the helmets from the handlebars, straddling the bike and waiting for Stiles to climb up behind him.

Stiles makes sure to hold on extra tight to Derek while he drives him back to Stiles' apartment, bottling up the feeling of Derek's back resting against his chest.

It also takes him a little longer to move when Derek finally parks in front of his building, and even then he just stands in front of Derek and by the bike instead of getting inside.

"Yes?" Derek asks hesitantly after when Stiles doesn't say anything, just stares at him.

Stiles bites down on his bottom lip, licking it over the swollen flesh before he says, "We just had our first big fight."

Derek blinks at him, jaw going a little big slack as he stares at Stiles like he's grown a second head.

"We just had our first big fight," Stiles says again, a little louder. "And I don't even know if we solved anything or not. Because even though it feels like we're okay, I don't know if we really are okay. In fact, it actually feels a little bit like we're not okay because I still don't know what I did wrong and why you don't want me to be at the bar opening."

"I want you," Derek says, playing with the hem of his shirt as his eyes dart to the floor. "There. At the opening, I mean. I just- I don't- There's still-"

"Yeah?" Stiles swallows hard, rocking back on his heels, hands deep in his pockets so he won't reach out and pull Derek in and kiss the hell out of him.

Because this is Derek trying, in his own choked-up I don't really know how to use words kind of way.

"There's still a lot you don't know," Derek says, licking his lips. "A lot I haven't told you yet. That I want to. I just don't- I just don't really know how to-"

"How to do it?" Stiles offers, heart breaking a little at having Derek saying the words I don't know how again.

"Yeah," Derek says, clears his throat, looks back up at Stiles, face soft and hopeful and all kinds of embarrassed. "But I'd like that. If you were there. With me."

"Okay," Stiles breathes out, nodding. "Okay. I will. Be there. With you."

"And maybe," Derek says, shrugging one shoulder and failing miserably at trying to appear casual. "Maybe I could tell you. Some things. If you'd like me to."

"I always want to know more about you, Derek," Stiles says softly. "Hell, I want to know everything about you."

Derek presses his lips together and nods at Stiles before saying, "I'll- I'll try. I just don't-," he sighs. "I'm not good at this. So you'll have to be patient with me because it might take a while for me to get it all out. And some of it..."

Derek trails of, shaking his head.

"Some of it?"

"Some of it isn't good," Derek finishes off in a breath, shoulders that were tense slumping forward as if the mere action of admitting that is enough to take a little bit of the weight he carries off of him.

"I'll still be here," Stiles promises. "No matter how bad it is."

"You can't promise me that."

"I don't have to," it's Stiles turns to shake his head. "I know it."

Derek huffs, shifting on the bike and avoiding eye contact.

That is until Stiles grabs him by the chin and makes him look back up at him as he states, "I know it, Derek. I'm not going anywhere. Not unless you want me to."

Derek stares at him unflinching, as if looking for something as his eyes rake over Stiles' face.

Whatever it is, it seems like he's found it when his lips twitch into a smile, entire face softening as breathes out a, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Stiles smiles back. "Definitely."

"Good."

"Great."

Derek lets out a faint chuckle at that, snatching a hand forward and curling his fingers around Stiles' - Derek's - shirt and pulling him to him and into a kiss.

"I'll see you later, Bunny?" Derek murmurs against his lips, eyes crinkling at the corner as he stares at Stiles.

"Always, baby," Stiles grins at him, taking a step back and watching as Derek slips his helmet back on.

He waves at Stiles before he takes off, and if Stiles stands right where he is feeling equal parts happy and sad until he starts shivering from the cold, well, no one's there to see it.