PART VI: BONUS ROUND

Derek is having a hard time adjusting to stuff. He has always been this way, but this new situation doesn't exactly help. He has been hiding out in the old train yard for three days now. Isaac has been there twice, and mocked him relentlessly. He considered going back to his apartment at one point, but he figured that was too obvious. There he'd be found. So.

The train yard it is. This is his life now.

He does his best to not think too much, but the only thing that comes close to distracting him is working out. And he can only do that for so long.

Fuck, why does Stiles always pry things out of him? Derek had decided to never ever come clean about his stupid little crush, he was prepared keep it to himself for as long as it took to get over it. Possibly to take it to his grave. And really, was it even a crush? No, it couldn't possibly be.

And when had it even gotten that bad? Stiles was just an annoying kid, sticking his nose into matters where it didn't belong, like saving all of their lives from trolls, and whatnot. Stupid Stiles with his brown eyes, annoying smirk, and heartbeat like a butterfly.

So why did Stiles push him into coming clean? Hell, he hadn't even done that. Stiles had just assumed right by Derek's own glaring omissions. Stupid, stupid, smart kid.

The smell hits him first. Then he hears him. He must be thinking he is so damned smooth, but with those shoes? No way. Wet sneakers plus rain equeals horrible squeaky noises from Hell. But who knows, if Derek keeps stoically focusing on his work-out, i.e. punching at the sandbag Isaac brought until it breaks, and ignoring Stiles, maybe he'll go away on his own? He's been quiet for that long, so maybe…

"So. This is where you're hiding," Stiles says. He coughs suspiciously. "Sorry dude, you can run, but you can't hide. Not from me you can't."

"Isaac told you I'm here," he states. He punches a hole in the bag, and sand pours out.

"No… Yeah, he totally did."

"Go away."

But Stiles doesn't. Instead he comes closer, within arm's reach. Derek stops punching the sandbag.

"What, do you regret what you said— well, what you didn't exactly say, but implied by strategic silences?"

"I, uh. No." This is the most honest he's been with somebody for years. Derek stares at the hole in the sandbag.

Stiles takes a step forward, and Derek backs away. Which makes him take another step. Eventually Derek ends up crowded against the wall of a train car. He can feel the cold steel through the T-shirt on his back. But Stiles doesn't stop getting closer until Derek can feel his breath on his face. He puts a warm hand on his shoulder, and Jesus, Derek wants to squirm away from it. But he doesn't. Still, he can't quite make himself look Stiles in the eyes.

"I thought you were coming back that night. But you didn't. I thought it was because you didn't care, but I guess… I guess that it's not that. I'm thinking, maybe it's that you care a lot?"

It's uncanny how well he reads him. Like he is an open, unwilling book. Derek jerks under his touch, meets his eyes for the first time since that night. They are a deep dark brown, and the pupils are wide-blown. It's actually a lot worse than Derek thought it would be.

"Ssh, it's okay," Stiles whispers. "Believe me, I was freaked out too. You'd be a fucking psycho if you weren't as well. We took down some motherfucking trolls. It's alright to be weirded out. But I'm okay now. I've had time to think."

He grabs Derek by the neck with both hands and presses his lips against his cheek. If Derek was having trouble breathing normally before, you could consider him breathless by then. There are a dozen or so light kisses on his cheeks and throat. And then Stiles finds his mouth with his own.

Derek slides down against the train car, there is simply no way that his legs will bear him at this point. Stiles slides with, until he is sitting on his knees, straddling him.

It's hopeless. Derek puts his hands around Stiles' waist to rest on the small of his back and his shoulder. He tries to memorize the sensation, but it's impossible to focus on that since...

"Jesus Christ!"

Stiles yanks his hand away from his crotch.

"Sorry! Too fast?"

"No, it's. Ah, I wasn't…"

"'Cuz I was way outta line. Just, this is all I've been thinking about since, you know… But hey, we could…"

"No, it's okay," Derek says and swallows. Gods know, he's been thinking about it too. Stiles leans in, so they are nose to nose. "Keep going," Derek breathes.

Stiles fingers at his belt buckle, and it's a question. The answer is yes, or possibly oh god yes, which Derek gives by helping with easing up the belt and unbuttoning his jeans. Stiles shoves them down along with his underwear. Derek has to bite down a moan when he wraps his hand around his dick. Stiles is clearly new to touching other people's genitals, but after a few awkward tugs he starts to get it.

"Does this feel good?" he whispers.

"Shut up," Derek gasps back. There's only so much multitasking he can do. Between focusing on not coming in two seconds flat, kneading Stiles' butt and being overwhelmed by the smell of them both, there's only so much talking he can handle.

For once in his fucking life, Stiles takes a hint. He occupies his mouth by kissing and sucking a wet trail down his neck.

It lasts for a minute or so, until Derek is arching his body off the ground, moaning with his mouth open against Stiles' shoulder. It might only be a hand job, but in Derek's defence, it's been a good long while since last time. Plus, he's got werewolf metabolism. Needless to say, the orgasm is earth-shattering.

As consciousness starts to creep back, Derek realizes that he's the only one with his pants down. It is a problem. A problem that he'd be more than willing to do something about.

"You want me to…"

"Nah. I'm good," Stiles says. The tips of his ears are bright red. Derek takes a deep breath, and yeah, he's all good.

"Did you…?"

"Yeah, I came in my pants like a fucking teenager. Thanks for the display, though."

"You are a teenager."

"Oh, okay, never mind then."

Stiles climbs off of him and sits down on the ground by his side. There is a thunk when he leans his head back against the train car.

"So. Can we do this again?" he says. "Like, I dunno. On a regular basis?"

"Uh huh," is all Derek manages.