A/N I own nothing still- enjoy!

After the golf that never happened, they flew back home, same flight even (thank youuuu, Lydia!). Lydia and Scott were waiting at the airport to drive them home for a night with the dogs and each other. After that, they had to be at the stadium for the now annual Wii event. Since Derek had to be there early, Boyd and Erica were bringing Stiles along, and considering the scene they'd made inside Lydia's car on the way home from the airport, stealing kisses, giggling and making out like teenagers (tinted windows are a Godsend), everyone agreed it was best. (It only took Lydia repeating a question three times, and Scott making oh so mature gagging noises, for her to declare that the plan-in his defense, it was very, very difficult to focus on redheaded geniuses when an adorable man with a very talented mouth was tonguing that sensitive spot right behind his ear.)

Waiting on Boyd, Erica and Stiles to arrive at the stadium gave Derek time to think about the last two days, in Minnesota and here at home. Last night especially…there's something to be said for waking up to sunlight gently heating your face, arms draped lightly across your waist, and a slowly growing puddle of cooling drool on your bare chest.

Granted, "Jesus wept, Stiles! Do we need to borrow a burp cloth from Scott and Allison?" was probably not the best thing to be say in that situation, but he had just woken up and drool is unpleasant when you're groggy.

"hrmph?"

"You drool. And seriously, how'd you even get on my chest? I was behind you and I swear you didn't move this much before." Derek, for all his harsh words kept his tone fond and one hand stroking slowly up and down Stiles back as he spoke.

"Oh my god, Bear! You had to've known I drool sometimes! It's not like we haven't slept together before! And I always tried my best not to move too much then because how awkward would it have been for me to wake up humping your leg?" Stiles replied. At least, that's what Derek thinks Stiles' said, since he'd talked into Derek's chest the entire time. He started to shift up so Stiles would roll off him when…oh…why! Hello there!

"So… leg humping, is that something you do often in your sleep, or am I just that special?" He couldn't help the sly laughter that came bubbling out of him.

"Not cool," Stiles said, sitting up. "You, as a male with a functioning dick as far as I know, please don't tell me otherwise right now, we can cross that bridge later, deal with morning wood just as much as I do."

"Ah yes, but I, unlike you, don't get caught jerking off in showers. And my cock works just fine, thank you."

"Derek, I have it on excellent authority that wood will happen whenever wood would." Stiles blushed. "Anyways, that doesn't count… yesterday was… and I was… you were, with the voice and…anyways, we were both embarrassed by our golfing, so there's that."

"Fair enough. I'll give you that, but we're never talking about the golf thing again, deal?"

"Sorry, no dice... 's too funny."

Stiles looked beautiful in bed, sheet pooled around his waist, pups curled at his feet. There was something in the easy way he held himself that Derek had missed terribly.

"C'mere."

"Why?"

"Just, closer, c'mere." Derek made what he hoped was a reasonable pouty face. It must have worked because Stiles angled close enough to grab behind the neck. "I know we're doing slow, but, god, six months I've been thinking about-" He pulled Stiles into him, ran his lips over his brow, his eyes, nose, both cheeks, smirked at Stiles' sharp inhalation right before he pressed their lips together.

Bitter coffee and sweet fruit and sleep flooded Derek's mouth as sucked Stiles lower lip into his, ran his tongue just along the inner edge before pulling back to nip gently. He started to pull away, but Stiles squeaked and rapidly repositioned himself so that he was in Derek's lap.

"Wake-up kissing is part of slow?" A press of lips. "Why didn't I know this?" A slip of tongue. "This is the greatest." A flash of teeth. "Well, greatest thing right now." Stiles finally stopped talking and kissed Derek properly. Derek promptly set his hands at Stiles hips, holding him back just a little, doing whatever he possibly could to ensure that they stayed in relatively innocent (though sloppy) make-out territory.

The kiss ended abruptly. "Derek, Bear, this is important."

"Yeah it kinda is, now c'mere again," Derek chuckled and tried to pull Stiles back. It was kind of amazing how much he did this now – he swears he'd laughed more since meeting Stiles than he had in the five years previous.

"No, seriously. I know I said it was funny, but we don't ever discuss the disaster that was that tournament."

Stiles was right, of course. He's already decided one of the most basic tenets of their relationship would be absolutely no golf. But the kissing, that was way more important. And it was much easier to focus on said macking when he wasn't thinking about how amazingly poorly they'd done at golf. They were paired up with two of the radio show hosts, questions were flying, beer was open, and Derek and Stiles couldn't touch more than a congratulatory hi-five or a or consolatory back slap. Thankfully the charity got the money regardless of how well they did (which was not well. At all. There's a reason Derek 'accidentally' lost their scorecards in the last water hazard).

"I have arrived, everyone, better make yourselves picture fabulous because I will get your bad side if you don't cooperate!"

Aaaaaand just like that, his pleasant memory bubble was popped.

"Jackson, you dick, I didn't know you taking pictures for this again!" Even though he wasn't in kissing-filled dreamland anymore, Derek still couldn't help but smile at his cousin's larger than life entrance.

"Yeah Lydia set it up, which I am sure is at least dubiously ethical since she's my manager too."

"Manager… really?"

"Yeah." Jackson blushed, honest to god blushed, even looked down at his shoes. "I've been branching out, doing a lot of nature and art shots. There's some galleries that want to show my stuff, and you know Lyds. She thought I could do it, but I'd need representation, and now… she's right."

Jackson suddenly got very serious, and his sudden intensity was honestly making Derek a little uncomfortable. "Listen you cranky bastard, when you find that person who makes you want to be better, that makes you smile, the person you want to wake up with every morning even though they drool on your chest while they sleep, you fucking hold on to them. No matter what you have to do to make it work, the people who care about you will understand, no. matter. what. Are we clear?"

"How did you? drooling on chests-"

"You listen to me. I never said that, and if you EVER tell Lydia I told you she drools, I swear to god, I will castrate you where you stand, are we clear?"

Derek doubled over and howled laughter. Dear God, does Stiles know that Lydia's a chest drooler too? "Sorry, sorry, just, chest drooling." Derek gasped. "Listen, I get it, and no worries, okay?"

"No, I have worries. You've been a spectacular dick the last few weeks. I worry, because it means Stiles takes more of Lydia's time and she gets hurt and angry on his behalf and it messes with my life. Honestly Der, think about me if you can't get your own shit together."

Derek was about to reply when the big doors at the end of the room slammed open.

"I am ready for my close up, Mister Whittemore!" Stiles squealed, draping himself over Boyd. Of course Boyd dropped Stiles on his ass, really the only reasonable thing to do. "Ow! Bear, you gonna let Boyd get away with that? I think I bruised my butt!"

Derek just chuckled. "Well, we can't have that now, can we?" He wrapped his arms around Stiles' torso and pulled him up in one swift motion, Stiles' arms moving to his shoulders as the two began to walk away. Derek turned back to Jackson. "Like I said, no worries."

They'd strolled about twenty feet when he heard Jackson's rather loud 'Ooooohhh, I get it now!'

"So Stiles, I hear your manager drools on her boyfriend's chest in her sleep."

"Maybe they should talk to Scott and Allison about borrowing a burp cloth!" Stiles replied with a lickably wicked smirk.

"Maybe indeed. Hey, Stiles," he whispered into his ear, "C'mere, I wanna talk to you about something."

"No!" Erica shouted right in his ear, and he and Stiles jumped apart. "There is to be NO c'mere in public, am I clear? Are you two trying to get found out?"

"What the hell is so bad about c'mere, and why does anyone want a burp cloth?" Scott asked from behind Boyd and Erica. Stiles never heard him coming, and jumped again, bumping into Derek who laid a hand on his back to steady him. The fact that his hand stayed went unnoticed (okay really, it just went unmentioned; his friends weren't stupid).

"Scott, hey! Thanks for working with Lydia getting everything in Minneapolis set up; I appreciate it bro."

"No prob bro, I just did what Allison and Lydia told me to. Mom said it was 'in my and my child's best interests' to listen to them." Fatherhood was suiting Scott well. He had on a 'Baby's Best Dad' t-shirt (baby present from Stiles) with a Dodger themed diaper bag (baby present from Derek)slung over one shoulder, a baby on the other (baby present from Allison), and a smile on his face that hurricane force winds wouldn't remove (baby present from Charlie). "Oh, Man, you gotta check this out! Jay, I need your camera over here." Scott set down the diaper bag and gingerly reached up to pull the lightweight blanket off of a sleeping Charlie. She was in lightweight footie jammies, Dodger pinstriped jammies. On her back was Derek's number with 'Wolf Pup' printed over it.

Derek swallowed, his throat suddenly very thick. "How…Where?"

"Chris ordered it for her, isn't it great? And Mom got her the bow so people would know she's a girl, look, there's even a tiny baseball in the center." Scott angled his daughter so that they could see the matching bow headband. "Here, I want to have a picture of her godparents holding her in this, come on, both of you."

While Stiles and Derek were having pictures taken with Charlie, the rest of their friends and family, the press, and the fans who purchased or won tickets all showed up. Unexpectedly, the requests for pictures with Charlie outnumbered the requests for him and Stiles, but then, Charlie was far cuter. Except for Stiles. Not even his goddaughter could beat those little brown moles and oh so perfect mouth.

They managed to hit some balls outside, Stiles' bat handling technique and pitching much improved over last year, and there were no ruined televisions this time either.

All in all, Derek thought the day had gone shockingly well. Course, they were probably due after the golf catastrophe. Stupid golf.