Derek waits maybe fourteen seconds before Stiles answers-sort of-by flinging himself off the bed and at Derek. Derek goes thudding back against the door as Stiles kisses him, all flailing limbs and red eyes and perfect, perfect, perfect. Derek's known what kissing Stiles is like a couple times now, but this is vastly different, because he knows what he really wants out of it. He slips his hands around Stiles' hips, pulling him flush against him, kissing Stiles in a way he's been wanting to for months and yet it's so much more. Stiles' tongue presses against the seam of Derek's lips and Derek lets him in easily, his fingers tightening as though he might somehow pull Stiles impossibly closer.
They kiss for long moments, so long Derek starts losing track of time. He briefly registers Stiles reaching a hand around to lock the door, and then Stiles is tugging him towards the mussed bed, one leg pushing between Derek's own legs, grinding against him and Derek is powerless to keep his moans silent. Derek lets Stiles twist them around and push him back onto the bed, while he pushes Stiles' shirt up and over his head, before tugging off his own. It's not until they're both down to their underwear, Stiles straddling Derek's thighs and looking impossibly tempting, that Derek regains a bit of awareness.
"Stiles," he says, pushing up on his elbows. Stiles swipes his thumbs over Derek's nipples and he nearly loses his train of thought. "Stiles, wait." He grabs Stiles' wrists and holds them still.
"Derek," whines Stiles, rolling his ass against Derek's cock.
"Stiles," he repeats. "I want...Jesus fuck do I want this right now, but I don't understand. Why? What is this? Is it some sort of revenge thing or…"
He's cut off. "Revenge?" Stiles sounds more hurt than offended, which Derek hates that he's caused.
"Not revenge. I just...Stiles, you were so upset earlier today. And I don't want to do this if it's just going to mean me having to put my clothes back on in an hour, walk past your family and friends, and never see you again. I need to know why."
Stiles relaxes, sinking back against Derek's legs and taking the pressure-and pleasure-away for a moment. "If I promise to tell you the full story later, can we have sex after the short version?"
Derek nods because that is a plan he is definitely okay with. "Absolutely."
Stiles smiles softly, in a way he hasn't since this whole mess began. "The short version is that I ranted to my friends, who supported me and slandered your character as all good friends should until I apparently complained too long in which case they tried to consider your perspective and I pouted, and then I came home and my parents sat me down like I was fourteen again and told me that I was an idiot."
"You're not an idiot," protests Derek.
"Oh, but I am. Don't get me wrong, I know my parents will always have my back, but they've always been tell it straight kind of people. Anyway, Dad pointed out that I never actually told you I had feelings for you. You asked for what boils down to a job and a favor, to pretend to be your boyfriend for a few days, and I said yes because I've been crazy about you for a while now. And though they both agreed that I was right to remove myself from the situation, I wasn't right to blame you." Stiles sighs and Derek reaches a hand up and runs his thumb soothingly over Stiles' cheek. "Anyway," Stiles continues, "I figured I'd wait until after Christmas to try and apologize and offer to be friends again. But then you were here and saying you wanted this to be real and I didn't really see any point in prolonging either of our misery."
Derek practically surges upward to kiss Stiles, cupping his face in both hands and making this particular kiss deep and lingering.
"I take it that means we're okay?" questions Stiles, laughter in his voice.
"So okay," murmurs Derek against Stiles' lips. "So incandescently, perfectly okay."
Stiles wiggles a little so he's kneeling between Derek's legs instead of straddling them. "Awesome. Then can I blow you now or did you want me to keep using my mouth to talk?"
Derek doesn't mean to shove Stiles down quite that hard, he swears he doesn't, but Stiles bursts into laughter and digs his teeth into the waistband of Derek's boxers, so he figures it's okay.
Derek's always thought he was the type to take control during sex-and until this point he has been-but as Stiles wraps his lips around Derek's cock, Derek can't help but let his head fall back against the sheets, whimpering a little as he does so. Stiles was angry the night before, his movements harsh and biting and desperate. This is needy in a completely different world, one Derek thinks he'd like to stay in for a while.
Stiles sucks and licks and makes these pleased little noises every so often. Derek's focus boils slowly down to nothing but wet heat. Sex might usually be a two person affair, but he has no idea how to contribute. Not that Stiles seems to care about being left to his own devices.
Derek's close, so painfully, exquisitely close when Stiles raises his head up just a little. His lips are swollen and bright red and he has a Puckish grin dancing across them. "Derek," he says huskily and Derek whines low in his throat in reply. "Come for me," says Stiles, his breath ghosting hot over Derek's tip as he speaks and Derek is helpless to do anything but obey.
When he manages to recover a few minutes later, he pushes himself up to return the favor, only for Stiles to grin sheepishly. "I mentioned I had a bit of a thing for you right?"
Derek thinks that's possibly the hottest compliment he's ever received. So he responds the only way he knows how, tugs Stiles up next to him so they're facing each other, then tangles their legs together, wrapping his arm around Stiles' waist. "Now what?" he asks after several minutes pass with the two of them staring at each other.
"Now we get up and get dressed. I take my suitcase that was never unpacked and put it in your car. You meet my friends and family properly and then we go back to your family's," answers Stiles. "If you'll have me that is."
Derek puzzles at him, unsure why Stiles would want to go back. And he says as much. "I want you too, of course, but…"
Stiles smiles at him, that one Derek is starting to think might just be for him. "You wanted Christmas with your family, Derek. I'm not feeling overly generous despite the season, so I don't intend to let you leave my side, but I'm happy to go along."
"Really?"
"I like your family. I think I'd like them even more if I knew I could stick around a while."
Derek's fingers tighten on Stiles' waist. "Stick around a long while please."
The first person that greets them downstairs is Scott. Stiles introduces them and Derek reaches his hand out in greeting.
Scott grins and shakes his hand firmly. "Nice to meet you, Derek. Just so you know, if you ever hurt Stiles on purpose, I'll…" He pauses and looks at Derek again. "Well I probably can't kick your ass but I can make your life a living hell. I'm very good at showing up on doorsteps at 3am half-drunk with the smelliest food I can find."
Derek tries to hold back a laugh and nods. "I definitely don't plan on hurting Stiles." He ignores the faces Stiles and Scott make at each other over that.
"I'm Erica," says the blonde, reaching out to shake his hand next. Her grip is distinctly tighter than Scott's, enough that Derek winces the tiniest bit. "I will kick your ass. Which would be unfortunate. It's a really nice ass."
"Erica!" yelps Stiles.
"Oh please. Like you didn't send me a picture the first time he came into the shop."
Stiles blushes deep red when Derek turns towards him.
Meeting everyone else isn't too bad. Most are polite, not seeming as aware of the drama, though Stiles' grandparents give him more than a quick onceover and Allison hugs him then whispers that she knows 22 ways to kill a man with her bare hands, just fyi.
Derek thinks she would get along wonderfully with Laura. They should probably never meet.
It takes another hour to get away, between the loading of the car and the way Sheriff Stilinski keeps insisting on adding treats to a box, saying the least they can do is share a few leftover goodies.
Stiles protests. Derek just chooses to point out that he really likes those twisted candy cane cookies.
But eventually, the last well wisher goes inside and they're left alone.
"To my parents?" asks Derek as the door shuts behind Stiles.
"Actually can you stop at Di Caife first?" requests Stiles. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."
Derek nods and intertwines his free hand with Stiles' as he drives.
Since the cafe's closed for Christmas, it takes a few minutes to warm up the place. "Will you turn the fireplace on while I make us a couple drinks?" asks Stiles from behind the counter.
Derek stares at Stiles' ass for a minute. "Uh, yeah sure. I would've thought you'd want a wood-burning fireplace," he says once he finds the right switch.
"I did," comes the answer over the sound of steaming milk. "But I needed a bunch of other permits for it and the cost plus the risk ultimately wasn't worth it." A minute later Stiles emerges with two mugs in hand, one of which he hands to Derek before settling them both on the couch in front of the fire.
"So who's this person I'm meeting?" asks Derek, unabashedly tucking his feet under Stiles' legs.
Stiles blushes slightly and sticks out his free hand. "Hi. I'm Stiles."
"Um," says Derek eloquently.
"I own this cafe. Well, I own a lot of cafes," continues Stiles. "I've got a great pair of parents and I solve mystery books within the first three chapters and I'm addicted to those bugle chips and putting them on my fingers and I'm kind of crazy about you. I thought maybe you should meet the guy who said yes to Christmas with strangers, instead of the barista you thought you knew."
Derek smiles. Now he gets it. "It's really nice to meet you, Stiles." He sort of squirms against Stiles in a way that is more about getting closer than being uncomfortable. After a few minutes of sipping their coffee and staring at each other until one or the other blushes and looks away, Derek sets his mug down. "Why coffee shops in the first place? It seems like you could do anything and making it in this particular business certainly isn't easy."
Stiles puts his own cup away and leans in closer. "I wanted to create a place where people felt like they belonged. A refuge of sorts."
"Like a home away from home?"
"Not exactly. Home is comfortable and all, but it's not always a place to feel special. I wanted to create an environment that made people want to come in and know they'd be recognized, that they mattered. Even my coffee carts have regulars because I train the employees to remember the students."
"You really think it matters that much?" Derek's not trying to be mean, just wondering.
"I think people get lost in the crowd all the time," answers Stiles, "And sometimes all we really need is someone who knows we don't like foam on our hazelnut latte."
Derek can see that. Even if it's one of the other employees, he does like knowing that they all know his drink and that his table is often reserved for him. "That's really special."
Stiles shrugs. "I learned it from my mom. She knew every single student she ever had, even 20 years later. And you could really tell it mattered to them. I wanted to be able to matter to people like that."
"You matter to me," offers Derek. "Not just like now that we're, um, well whatever we're doing. But like even just the cafe. I get so isolated at my apartment and I feel like I have friends here, people who know me. But also not people who push you know? My family is big on relationships and relationships the way they define them. But I'm not. I can develop just as strong a relationship with someone in the past, as long as I get to know them. Coming into Di Caife always makes me feel like there are people who care about me, but aren't going to push unnecessarily."
He's barely finished talking before Stiles is leaning in and kissing him. "You're kind of perfect," he says. Derek's pretty sure that isn't true but he'll take it.
"I suppose we should go," says Stiles after a few minutes go by and starts to stand.
Derek tugs him back down, curling them both into the corner of the couch. "Or we could stay here a little bit longer. Just the two of us."
"I'd like that." Stiles burrows in closer to his side. "This, being here, now it feels real. We feel real."
