a/n: hey everyone! so sorry for the one month wait for this next update, but midterms week kind of got in the way. :/
also, the reason why it took me so long to post this is because this is going to be split into two parts. the entire chapter closed over around 25k words, so i decided to post the first 10k right now and the other 15k next week.
that'll give me time to get a head start on the next chapter, and hopefully the wait between them will be shorter ~
"I have a proposition to make."
"I'm not sleeping with you," comes the immediate reply from Lydia, Jackson, and Danny.
"I- You- What? No, that's not-," Stiles sputters, and then turns around to eye Scott and Allison with curiosity. "Wait. Does this mean you would?"
Scott and Allison glance at each other, their eyebrow twitching a little as they have one of those silent conversations, before looking back at Stiles and saying, "I don't think Derek would appreciate it."
Stiles would think it's kind of freaky to have them speak at the same time, but he's too busy feeling flattered instead.
Because they didn't say they wouldn't sleep with him.
"Is this another weird thing that's normal for you guys?" Ethan asks the room, leaning against Danny's side and taking a sip of his beer.
"You mean Stiles propositioning everyone?" Danny raises his eyebrows at him.
While Jackson and Lydia both nod and say, "Yes."
"It is not!" Stiles protests, gaping at them. "And I'll have you know I'm in a very satisfying relationship with a very sweet and hot guy."
Who is currently not here, because when Stiles mentioned having another dinner at Lydia's place, Derek looked kind of shifty about it and really uncomfortable and Stiles told him there was no problem if he felt like going wouldn't be a good idea.
To which Derek said he thought it'd be best if they all saw each other again at the Halloween Opening Party, not before.
That is, if his friends would like to come.
Not that Stiles blames Derek for not really wanting to spend time with them just yet without his own support system near, considering how the one and only time he had dinner with them went.
He just hopes that after Halloween, things will get better.
So that's why Stiles is here, telling them he has a proposition to make.
Not that they're listening to him.
"You'll find that the more time you spend with Stiles the more used to his inappropriate comments you'll be," Lydia tells him, flipping her hair over her shoulder and smiling sweetly at Ethan.
And completely ignoring the glare Stiles sends in her direction.
"I don't blame him, really," Jackson shrugs. "We're all extremely good looking."
Ethan raises his eyebrows at him, while Danny drops his forehead against his boyfriend's shoulder, trying not to laugh.
Lydia looks immensely pleased at that comment, and Scott and Allison both beam at Jackson and thank him.
Stiles just looks skyward and begs for strength.
And maybe for some new friends, while he's at it.
"As entertaining as this is," Stiles gives them all a pointed look showing them that it's not. "That's not what my proposition is about."
That grasps their attention, Jackson going as far as looking surprised that what Stiles wants to talk to them about is no his desire to have a group orgy.
Not that Stiles had ever suggested it before.
Not out loud.
And definitely not now that he's with Derek, thank you very much.
Even though they haven't had sex yet.
"What did you want to talk to us about?" Allison asks him, wiggling her feet from where her legs are draped over Scott's lap.
"What I wanted to talk to you about is," Stiles says slowly, eyes raking over his friends. "Halloween. And whether or not we have plans for it yet."
"We don't," Lydia tells him, eyes calculating. "But you asking us that means you have an idea."
Stiles nods, because he does have an idea.
Well, Derek does but Stiles frees wholeheartedly to it.
"Have you guys heard about Triskele?"
A lot of things happen at once.
Like Jackson leaning forward so fast he dislodges Lydia from his side, almost sending her crashing to the floor because she's too busy busy staring at Stiles like she's never seen him before to keep her balance.
And Allison trying to right herself into a sitting position, bringing her legs up at the same time Scott turns to gape at Stiles, accidentally kneeing Scott in the chin.
And also Ethan spitting his beer.
All over Danny.
Who just blinks at Stiles.
Who, in turn, steps into Lydia's kitchen, walking back to the living room with a dishcloth for Danny to dry himself off and frozen peas for Scott's bruised face.
And if he takes about thirty seconds too long to came back it's not because the first thing he does when he gets away from them is laugh.
Really.
It isn't.
"So I take it you have heard about it," Stiles sits back down in his chair, biting on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from keep laughing at them.
To their faces.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" and Stiles thinks he should be a little afraid of the crazy eyes Jackson is sending him. "Who hasn't heard of it?"
"It's all everyone at the hospital has been talking about since they put up the sign," Allison tells him, nodding.
"And wondering when it's going to open," Lydia fills, expression again carefully blank and eyes burning into his soul like she knows exactly why he's asking them this.
"I always have at least one student per class asking the same thing," Ethan pipes up. "And if the reason why it's taking so long is because something happened there."
"Something?" Scott asks, frowning a little.
"The rumor at Jungle is that it's either because they're turning the back rooms into private rooms or because they're having a hard time getting rid of all the bloodstains," Danny says, raising his eyebrows at them.
Stiles just looks across the room, taking in the varying levels of astonishment, curiosity, and apprehension in his friend's faces.
And then he just clasps his hands together and says, "Well, I'm sure Derek's mother will love to know people either think she's a sex deviant or a serial killer."
Stiles will never admit out loud the absolute joy he feels at having all of them snap their heads to him, looking utterly horrified.
"Derek's mother?" Jackson says flatly, his left eye twitching. "Your boyfriend's mother is the owner of Triskele?"
"Yep," Stiles says, radiating smugness.
"Dude," Scott nods at him, raising a fist. "Nice going."
Stiles bumps their fists together, "Thanks, buddy."
Stiles doesn't really know why he's thanking him.
Sure, he's been waiting for people to acknowledge what a catch Derek is, but he didn't think that would happen because Mrs. Hale owns a bar.
Nevermind that apparently said bar is the talk of the town.
"What you're saying is," Danny says slowly, eyes glued to Stiles' face. "That Triskele is owned by Derek's family."
"That's what I'm saying, yes," Stiles nods, lips curling up. "And I'm also saying that I know when it's going to open."
A muscle in Jackson's jaw ticks and he looks like he can't believe Stiles is the one with that knowledge.
Stiles tries not to feel too happy about it.
"Halloween," Lydia says, putting the pieces together.
"And that's my proposition," Stiles tells them. "For you to spend Halloween with me and Derek at Triskele's opening party."
There's complete silence for a couple of seconds.
And then Stiles finds himself at the bottom of a pile of warm bodies, arms hugging him and hands petting him and lips kissing him in the cheek and forehead and nose, the voices of all of his friends saying, "Fuck yes."
To: Derek
they all said yes to halloween :D
From: Derek
I'll bring you the invitations when we see each other.
To: Derek
also did you know that the rumors around town is that the bar is not opened yet because your mom is either
To: Derek
a) turning the back rooms into sex wings
To: Derek
b) having a hard time getting rid of the evidence of all the people she killed
From: Derek
I showed her your texts.
From: Derek
She just smiled and said everything is going according to plan?
"I didn't think it'd be okay to bring it up at Lydia's, but how was your dinner with Ethan and his brother?"
"It wasn't."
Stiles blinks, turning back to look at Danny from where they're both sharing one of the couches in the firehouse's rec room.
"It was- What?"
"It didn't happen," Danny sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Ethan's brother never showed up."
Stiles winces, lips pressing together as he clasps a hand on Danny's shoulder, "Did he say why not?"
Danny shakes his head, sighing again.
"Is Ethan okay?" Stiles asks him. "He looked good at dinner, but still. Is everything okay?"
"He says he is, but…," Danny trails off, expression hardening. "It's kind of obvious he's not. I mean, who would be if their brother ditched dinner with the boyfriend without so much as a call?"
Stiles knows he wouldn't be okay.
He'd be pretty pissed, actually.
And hurt.
But he figures Danny's not looking for an answer to his question, just a means to vent about what a complete douchebag Ethan's brother seems to be.
"Do you think," Stiles starts, not really knowing to how word it. "Do you think it might be because-"
"We're gay?" Danny raises both eyebrows at him.
"Well, yeah," Stiles shrugs. "Do you think he has a problem with it?"
"I don't think so," Danny tells him, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "At least Ethan never mentioned anything about it."
"Then that's not it," Stiles dismisses his idea quickly, but at Danny's unconvinced look he adds, "I doubt Ethan would keep contact with him if it was. He doesn't seem like someone who takes any shit from anybody."
Stiles mostly says that after seeing Ethan fight with Lydia about who'd eat the last cake slice they had for dessert at her house.
And winning.
"He doesn't," Danny smiles at him, cheeks dimpling.
Stiles snorts, grinning back before squeezing his shoulder and letting his hand drop.
"I'm sure it was nothing," Stiles says. "You know, aside from Ethan's brother confirming our suspicions."
"Suspicions?" Danny blinks at him, face blank.
"Of him being a dick."
Danny rolls his eyes at him, bumping their shoulders together.
"I just hope it wasn't anything serious," Danny says quietly.
"You know what they say about bad news traveling fast."
"So if we heard nothing then we shouldn't worry."
"Exactly," Stiles nods. "And for payback you should totally bring Jackson along if you have a raincheck for the dinner thing. I'm sure Ethan's brother will love that."
Danny leans back against the couch, hands covering his face.
Stiles would be worried if he couldn't see Danny's shoulders shaking and hear the muffled sounds of his laughter.
"Thanks, Stiles," Danny says after catching his breath. "I needed that."
"That's what I'm here for," Stiles says, waving a hand around. "To bring joy to the world and all."
"I thought that was Santa."
Stiles opens and closes his mouth a couple of times before clasping his hands together and saying, "Speaking of Santa, do you have any ideas what your Halloween costume will be?"
"I'm not going to pretend I understand the jump your mind just made there," Danny looks at him. "But yes, I do."
"Wanna tell me about it?"
"No," Danny grins at him, dimples showing when Stiles groans and scrubs a hand over his face.
Because the thing is, he doesn't really know what he should dress up as.
Sure, he has the bunny costume from Easter and the Egg Run, but he doesn't want to look like he didn't even try to come up with something better to wear.
He knows how important this is to Derek, and he doesn't want to screw it up by showing up in a shitty costume.
It's also possible that he's giving too much meaning to this whole thing and Derek doesn't even care if he shows up in a bunny suit or in nothing at all, but still.
Stiles wants to come up with something nice.
"This is harder than I thought it would be," Stiles mumbles, letting out a long breath.
"Ethan and I come up with ours as soon as we got home after Lydia's," Danny tells him.
"You're doing a couples costume?" Stiles raises both eyebrows at him before frowning, wondering if he and Derek should do the same thing.
"We talked about it," Danny shrugs one shoulder. "At first we were going in individual costumes, but when we started looking for them we decided we should team up."
Stiles makes a noise at the back of his throat, "I should probably talk to Derek about this."
"You should," Danny nods in agreement. "I know Jackson and Lydia are doing something separate."
Stiles rolls his eyes at that, because it doesn't really help him.
You know, considering how they have no idea if Lydia and Jackson are even together right now.
"Scott and Allison will probably do something together and disgustingly adorable," Stiles huffs.
"We will," comes Scott's voice from behind them, and a second later Scott is jumping over the back of the couch and sitting beside Stiles'. "We already have our costumes ready."
Stiles makes a face at him, resigning himself to be the only one in his group of friends who has no idea what he's going to be dressing up as.
"You'll think of something," Danny tells him, offering a reassuring smile that soon turns into a smirk. "Or I can always ask Miss Ginger Snaps to give you a hand."
Stiles almost says he will when it sinks in that he's looking for something to wear at Triskele.
You know, Derek's mother's bar.
Where she'll probably be at when the opening happens.
Meaning Stiles can't wear anything too revealing.
And he doesn't know Derek's family and friends well enough yet to predict how they'd react to him crossdressing.
Hell, he doesn't really know Derek well enough to predict how he'd react to see Stiles in a dress and heels.
Stiles should probably rectify that.
You know, for future reference.
"I can also always ask her to show Ethan the pictures of you covered in purple body paint and glitter and trying to get unsuspecting twinks to see how juicy and sweet your grapes taste like."
Danny gapes.
Stiles stares.
And Scott gets up, shaking his head and saying, "No, I'm not listening to this."
Nevermind that Scott was actually there when that happened.
And had to throw out his stained shirt after helping Stiles drag Danny home and make sure he didn't choke on his own vomit.
He still wasn't the one who has to help Danny scrub all the paint and glitter off, though.
That task fell to Jackson.
Stiles had never been happier.
Danny closes his mouth with a click, extending a hand, "Truce?"
"You're a wise man, Danny," Stiles says, taking the hand and shaking it.
"But seriously," Danny tells him. "You'll think of something."
Stiles sighs, hoping it's true.
And if push comes to shove, he can always ask his dad for a deputy uniform.
Or Mrs. McCall for one of her scrubs.
Not that they'll fit him, but still.
It'll be something.
"Hey, Stilinski!"
The Chief's booming voice startles Stiles' out of his thoughts, making him and Danny jump a little in place as they see Finstock standing in front of the open door to his office, hands on his waist.
"What are you waiting for? Come here!"
Stiles looks at Danny in silent question, who only shakes his head and shrugs at him in a way that says he has no idea what the fuck is going on, before getting up and walking towards him.
"Chief."
"Get in," Finstock point a finger to the open door, closing the door behind them when Stiles steps inside.
He doesn't say anything, though, just stands there staring at Stiles with wide wide, arms now crossed over his chest.
"Uh- Is there anything I can do for you, sir?" Stiles fidgets a little in place.
He wonders if Finstock finally realized that the ones who keep stealing food from his candy stash are him and Scott, and if being stared at is the Chief's tactic to get him to own up to it.
Not that Stiles will.
His dad taught him better than to open his mouth and admit to anything when he finds himself in trouble.
Innocent until proven guilty and all that.
"Yes," is what Finstock says, still staring.
When nothing follows after that, Stiles asks, "And what would that… be?"
Chief Finstock looks around the room, as if to make sure they're alone, before making a gesture with his hand for Stiles to come closer.
Stiles hesitates a little, but with a glare from the Chief he quickly leans in.
"I heard you're dating the son of the owner of that new bar in town everyone's been talking about," Finstock whispers loudly.
Stiles presses his lips together as he tries to figure out who was the one who opened his mouth and told that little detail to him.
"Okay," is what Stiles says, slowly and quietly, neither confirming nor denying what the Chief just said.
And also having absolutely no idea where this is going.
Right up until Finstock says, "I want an invitation."
"Do you have them?"
"Hello to you, too," Derek says, kissing him lightly on the lips before walking past Stiles and into the apartment. "And yes, I have them."
"Thank fuck," Stiles breathes out, closing the door and walking up to Derek, snaking his arms around Derek's waist and hugging him from behind, chin tucked over Derek's shoulder. "Now everyone can stop pestering me about when they'll get their invitations to the hottest place in Beacon Hills."
"I still can't believe people think the bar is the scene of multiple murders," Derek shakes his head resting a hand on top of Stiles' own. "Or a sex club."
"I think you should be more worried about people thinking your mom could pass for a killer."
"And not someone who runs a den of iniquity?" Derek says, turning around with both eyebrows raised so he can look at the side of Stiles' face.
"I don't know," Stiles says slowly, hiding his smile against Derek's shoulder. "Your mom kind of does look like someone who could dominate an entire room of people by just standing there and staring at them."
"I'm going to pretend I didn't catch that," Derek says after a few beats of silence, tapping his fingers against the back of Stiles' hand so he can turn in his arms. "And that all you did was compliment my mother in what a wonderful person she is."
"She is wonderful," Stiles nods in agreement, getting closer to Derek when the man wraps his arms around Stiles' shoulder. "She birthed and raised one of my favorite people in the world. She deserves all the credit I can give her."
"Thank you," Derek says, looking all kinds of smug as he leans in to rub their noses together.
Stiles huffs, "Who says I'm talking about you? Cora is clearly my favorite Hale sibling."
Derek steps back from Stiles hold, pointing a finger to the door and saying, "Then you won't mind if I leave and don't take you out, will you?"
"No, no, come back," Stiles says, making grabby hands. "I take it back. You're my favorite."
Derek chuckles as Stiles gets his hands on his shirt, settling his hands on Stiles' hip and tugging him forward into his chest.
Stiles goes willingly, his arms trapped between their chests, nuzzling his nose against Derek's cheek before placing a kiss on his jaw.
"Don't think I didn't notice the lack of comment about Mrs. Hale being able to kill people," he says quietly, burying his face against Derek's neck.
"I thought everyone knew that already," Derek teases, pressing his smile against Stiles' temple, hands squeezing his hips and when Stiles shudders.
"Your mom's a scary woman."
"I'll never understand why you're afraid of her," Derek says, shaking his head.
"It's not fear," Stiles tells him, pulling back to look him in the eye. "It's respect. I know for a fact that she could wipe the floor with me if she wanted to."
"That's true enough," Derek says, smiling at little. "You're in luck she likes you, then. So much so she even send you a couple of extra invitations."
"Oh, really? She didn't have to," Stiles says, frowning a little.
"She wanted to," Derek shrugs one shoulder. "She said maybe you'd have someone who asked you for one without knowing you had a set number for how many you'd be given, and having a few extra ones would help you with that."
"That's very nice of her," Stiles says, because Stiles had people asking him about getting invitations. "Remind me to thank her at the party."
"She'll say there's no need to thank her," Derek says, and at the face Stiles makes at him he adds, "But I will."
"Thank you," Stiles says, pecking him on the lips. "Now can I see them?"
Derek sighs, stepping back and letting his hands fall from Stiles' hip, reaching a hand inside his jacket and coming out with a white envelope, which he hands it to Stiles.
Stiles doesn't even think to contain his excitement when he opens it, lips stretching into a smile as he pulls out a black business card with the outline of a triskele in white ink right in the middle of it. But his smile quickly turns into a confused frown when he turns the card on his fingers only to find the back blank.
"It's only so you can show it at the door," Derek explains. "If you have this then they'll let you in without having to wait in line."
Stiles raises his eyebrows, "I'm impressed. And I kind of feel like I'm super important right now."
"You're always important," Derek says, the tips of his ears turning red and his eyes widening a little like he hadn't meant for that to come out.
Stiles just beams at him, closing the distance between them to brush their lips together.
"You're always important, too."
Derek's blush deepens at that, and Stiles can't help but grin wider as Derek shifts a little in place and tries not to look as awkward as he's probably feeling.
He doesn't really succeed.
But lucky for him, that's one of the things Stiles loves most about him.
How fucking adorable he is when he's embarrassed.
Stiles kisses him one more time before pulling back, putting the black card inside the envelope and placing it on top of his entry table.
When he turns back to Derek is to see he already has the front door opened, one of his hands buried in his pocket, an expectant look on his face.
Stiles grabs his keys and wallet and kisses him on the cheek on his way out, Derek closing the door behind them.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Stiles asks him. "You know we didn't have the best of luck the last time."
"That's because it was summer," Derek raises an eyebrow at him, taking Stiles' hand in his own and lacing their fingers together. "And also because we were at the Preserve."
"Good job on blaming the weather and scenario for my total lack of stamina," Stiles says, patting Derek on the shoulder with his free hand. "I'm proud of you."
"We're almost at the end of October," Derek says. "I doubt taking a walk at the local park will take that much out of you."
"You never know, Derek," Stiles shakes his head. "I might surprise you and be in even worse shape than I was when we went hiking."
Derek makes a show of stopping just as they get to his car, turning around so he's standing in front of Stiles, eyes slowly making his way from Stiles' feet up to his face.
Stiles' entire body tingles at having Derek stare at him that way, and he has to bite down on his bottom lip not to make any embarrassing noise when Derek licks his lips and says, "You look pretty good to me."
Stiles doesn't swoon.
Really.
He doesn't.
But he does accept Derek's kiss when it comes, opening up so Derek can lick his way past his lips, so he can taste him, so he can nip at his bottom lip and tug before pulling back and kissing the corner of his mouth.
"C'mon," Derek says quietly, breath ghosting over Stiles' still parted lips. "I'm sure there's a pile of leaves at the park with your name on it just waiting to be jumped on."
Stiles tries his best not to make a comment about how he could jump Derek instead, settling for getting in the car and fighting for control of the radio with Derek until they get to their destination.
Or until Stiles makes Derek stop at a coffee shop and buy them both a pumpkin spice latte.
"It's tradition, Derek," Stiles says seriously, handing him in cup. "You can't not drink one of these in the Fall."
"But I don't even like it," Derek makes a face at his cup. "It's too sweet."
"Have you ever tried it?" Stiles raises an eyebrow at him.
Stiles doesn't even fight his smug grin when he hears Derek mumble a no, looking encouragingly at him and saying, "Then give it a chance. If you don't like, I'll drink the rest."
Derek stares from the cup and to Stiles and back to the cup again, bringing it up to his face and sniffing it before taking an experimental sip.
Stiles holds in all the dog jokes he wants to make, eyes glued to Derek's face as he sees him swallowing.
And then throwing his head back and laughing at how fucking offended Derek looks at the drink, mouth opened and brows frowning and letting out this little gasp that it's the fucking cherry on top of all of this.
"This is disgusting," Derek says, holding the cup by the rim between two fingers as far away from him as he can. "How can you even drink this?"
Stiles takes the cup away from him, trying to wipe his eyes with his other hand, shoulders still shaking with laughter.
"Oh, man," Stiles says, trying to catch his breath. "That was awesome."
"You mean terrible," Derek mutters as they walk back to the car, jaw clenched. "I'm never trusting your taste in coffee drinks ever again."
"'S all good, boo," Stiles says, placing Derek's cup in the cup holder before leaning in and kissing the hinge of his jaw. "As long as you trust me in everything else."
Derek turns his head to look at him, their noses bumping together, and the look in his eyes tells Stiles Derek's absolutely serious when he says, "I do."
Stiles' breath hitches, because he understands the enormity of what Derek just told him, the weight of it.
Because Derek doesn't trust people, not really, not after Kate.
Stiles knows Derek thinks he made a mistake by letting her in, and that because of it it's so hard for him to let anyone since then get close to him now.
So that fact that he's telling Stiles this, the fact that he means it, shakes Stiles to his very soul.
Because trust is not something Derek gives easily, but somewhere along the way he gave it to Stiles.
"I trust you, too," is what Stiles says, instead of the I love you that wants to come out.
He takes in Derek's small smile at that, wondering if Derek knows what he actually means, before Derek is leaning in to steal a kiss.
And then grimace as he tastes the latte on Stiles' lips.
Stiles smiles all the way over to the park, finishing his first drink and throwing the empty cup in a nearby trashcan as they walk out of the car, Derek's cup in one hand and the other gripping Derek's tight.
"So," Stiles says, turning his head to he can look at Derek as they walk. "How are you?"
Derek slowly turns back to him, one eyebrow arched, and the most unimpressed look on his face.
"You're asking me that now? After we've already left your apartment and you tried to poison me with seasonal coffee drinks."
Stiles purses his lips together, refusing to feel guilty.
And also refusing to comment about the coffee quip.
"I got sidetracked."
"You got sidetracked," Derek says flatly.
"It happens a lot," Stiles nods, completely serious. "One minute I'm reading about world economics and next thing I know I'm three different sites in on the history of circumcision. It's been known to happen."
Derek blinks at him.
"I don't want to know, do I?"
"Probably not," Stiles shakes his head, and then squeezes Derek's hand. "Seriously, though. How are you?"
Stiles is asking because yesterday Derek had his second therapy session, and differently from last week he apparently doesn't need some extra time to get his head on straight afterwards.
Which is a really good thing, but still.
Stiles feels better if he knows for certain that everything is as okay as it can be with Derek.
"I'm- I'm good," Derek says, squeezing Stiles' hand back.
"Yeah?" Stiles smiles softly at him, and at Derek's nod he says. "Good to know."
"That's-," Derek starts, stopping to look around them.
Stiles follows his eyes, seeing other couples like them walking and laughing, some people walking or playing with their dogs, others jogging around the length of the park, a few parents with their children trying to keep them from eating grass or worms or from running away from them.
Derek tugs at Stiles' hand and walks them away from all the commotion, to a more secluded area in the park with a lot more trees and a lot less people, and Stiles starts getting nervous about whatever it is Derek started saying but stopped.
He tries to take it to heart Derek telling him he's okay, not saying anything as Derek finds them an empty bench with no one around and pushes him down on it, sitting down by his side, their hands still together.
"Okay?" Stiles asks him when Derek doesn't say anything.
Derek takes a deep breath, nodding.
"Sorry," Derek says. "I just- I have something to tell you and I didn't want to do it while dogs were around us barking."
Stiles rolls his eyes at him, shifting a little on the bench so he can rest his chin on top of Derek's shoulder.
"There are no dogs around here," Stiles tells him. "You've manage to find us the spot in the park where people come to hook up or to chop someone in little pieces."
It's Derek's turn to roll his eyes at him, but this playful side of him tells Stiles that whatever Derek wants to say to him is not something bad.
"I talked to my doctor yesterday," Derek says, and Stiles goes utterly still. "She wants- She thinks it'd be best if we saw each twice a week. Instead of only on Fridays."
"Oh?"
Stiles doesn't know what to say to that, really.
Mostly because he doesn't know if that's a good or a bad thing.
"Yeah," Derek says, turning his head so he can look at Stiles, their noses almost touching. "She said it's good that I seem determined to work through this, but that it's going to take time and effort from both of us to get me where we want me to be. Mentally. That she'd like to keep a close eye on me at the beginning, when we have a lot to work through, so it'd be best if we saw each other more regularly. And that as time passed and I made progress, we could fall back to just one session a week again. So I'll be seeing her on Mondays, too."
Stiles nods, because this is a good thing.
"So I wanted to let you know," Derek says, lowering his voice. "Before I started this Monday."
"Okay," Stiles says, giving him a small smile before leaning in and kissing him quickly. "Thank you for telling me."
"You're welcome," Derek breathes out, and then looks a bit uncertain as he says, "And about- Can it be the same as Friday?"
Stiles has become quite well versed in filling the gaps on Derek's unfinished sentences, so he knows what Derek is asking is if they can keep doing what they're doing on Fridays and only talk the day after Derek's therapy sessions, unless Derek needs some more time.
"Yes, it can," Stiles reassures him. "Same as Friday. You don't have to worry about it."
Or feel guilty because they don't talk that day, is what Stiles doesn't say but he knows Derek gets it.
"Want to go back to the populated part of the park now?" Derek asks him after a few beats of silence.
Stiles considers.
And then smiles slowly.
"Can we make out first?"
As it turns out, they can.
And they do.
A lot.
So much so that when they get back up and start walking again, Stiles is still feeling so dazed that he doesn't even notice the big pile of leaves in his way until Derek pushes him sideways into it.
To: Derek
did you know i found another leaf stuck between my pillows and the headboard
To: Derek
it's been three days derek where the fuck are they coming from?
To: Derek
i swear to god derek next time you push me into a pile of leaves i'm taking you down with me
To: Derek
jackson saved a kitten this afternoon and didn't even get scratched doing it life is no fun sometimes
To: Derek
did you know there's a tree right outside my window that's shedding because it's fall and that's what trees do when that time comes around?
To: Derek
and that sometimes i like to leave my bedroom window opened in the mornings because it makes the room chilly and nice to be in?
To: Derek
well... lets just say that mystery of the fallen leaves has been solved
"I don't remember choosing a costume being this hard when I was a kid."
"That's because the extent of your imagination was to be a bloody something," his dad tells him, shifting on the couch so he can look directly at Stiles. "A bloody pirate, a bloody ghost, a bloody mad scientist, a bloody space cowboy. And then there was that one year you wanted to be a bloody librarian. I still get side-eyed by Mrs. Farrer whenever I walk by her on the street because of that one."
"She wouldn't let me read Fight Club, dad," Stiles says. "I was fifteen and she said it was inappropriate. I refuse to feel guilty about it."
"She didn't want you getting any ideas," his dad raises an eyebrow at him, and then shakes his head. "But heaven knows that you starting your own fight club was the last thing we had to worry about then."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Stiles sniffs. "I was a lovely young man."
The Sheriff outright laughs at that, head thrown back and eyes crinkling at the corners, and it takes him about forty seconds too long to get a hold of himself.
Stiles doesn't know why he's laughing.
It's not like Stiles used to sneak around in the woods at night.
Or used to get drunk in the woods at night.
Or used to get into fights with other people who were also sneaking around and getting drunk in the woods at night.
Or used to lock people up in a stolen police van because of a prank war and leave them there.
In the woods.
At night.
"That was a good one, kid," he smiles warmly at Stiles, reaching a hand to pat Stiles on the shoulder.
What's also good is that he and his dad are able to laugh about all of that now.
Because he knows there wasn't a lot of laughing about anything back then.
"And if you thought being a bloody anything was unoriginal, why didn't you ever say anything?" Stiles narrows his eyes at him. "Or gave me other ideas?"
His dad smiles at him, and Stiles goes a little cold at the edges.
Because he knows that smile and look in his father's eyes.
It means he's thinking about Stiles' mom.
"I don't know if you remember," his dad tells him. "But when you first started with this whole bloody thing you used to run your fingers through the fake blood and then stick them in your mouth."
Stiles makes a face, because he doesn't remember that.
And also because gross.
"The first time you did it you got sick," the Sheriff gives him a look, as if saying of course you did. "You started throwing up a lot and saying your tummy hurt, so we took you to the hospital. We thought it was because you'd eaten too much candy, but later we found out from the doctor it was because there was something in the fake blood we bought from a store that wasn't meant to be ingested."
Stiles tries to think back at what would have made little Stiles think it was a good idea to eat fake blood, and then stops himself when an imagine of him being twenty-one and drinking expired milk just because Scott dared him to comes to mind.
"The next year when we asked you what you wanted to be for Halloween you said, without hesitation, a bloody garden gnome," his dad shakes his head.
Stiles blinks at him.
"I was a weird kid, wasn't I?"
"Your mother and I liked to think you were unique," the Sheriff smiles at him. "And we also liked to think that when you kept asking us to add more blood to your costume because you didn't look dead enough was because the gnomes on our neighbor's yard scared you and this was your way of coping."
"And I don't know what it says about your parenting skills that you guys let me do that," Stiles shakes his head at his dad, but feeling unbelievably grateful for being their kid.
His dad pinches the bridge of his nose, and Stiles would be worried about him being mad if it wasn't for the way he can see the corner of his dad's lips twitching, like he's fighting a smile.
But he does keep going.
"Your mom found a fake blood recipe that was edible. It used cocoa powder, golden syrup, cherry Kool Aid powder, and it tasted amazing," his dad grins at him. "She always made extra to carry in a bottle so she could retouch your costume when you were out trick or treating, and at the end of the night there was always some left."
"You drank it, didn't you?" Stiles shakes his head at him.
"It's not like I could eat your candy," the Sheriff shrugs, unapologetic.
"I'm judging you so hard right now," Stiles tells him. "Just so you know."
"Says the kid who used to lick that stuff right off his skin," his dad raises an eyebrow at him.
Stiles opens and closes his mouth.
He doesn't really have an argument for that.
"I don't think being covered in blood will be a good call this time," is what Stiles says instead.
Because he doesn't want to think about Derek and licking in the same sentence.
At least not in front of his dad.
"There's always last year's costume," his dad says, wincing minutely.
Stiles tries not to smile.
He doesn't succeed much.
"I don't think going as Dr. Frank-N-Furter will be a good idea either," Stiles admits. "I know not everyone can appreciate how good I look in stockings, heels, and a corset."
"You're probably right," his dad nods, like it's a totally normal thing for them to be talking about women's clothing.
But to be fair, this is not the strangest conversation they've had.
"And like I said, this is harder than I remember it being."
"Just pick something that means something to you," the Sheriff says. "That's what you always did. You read a book or saw something on tv or learned a new thing at school that stuck with you and then you wanted to dress up as that. Simple."
Stiles frowns, wondering if his dad is on to something.
And deciding it won't do him any good to keep thinking about this.
"And what about you?" Stiles asks him. "I know Mrs. Hale gave you and Mrs. McCall invitations."
Or more like Derek called him and told him about it, trying to look and sound a lot calmer than he was feeling when he found out that Stiles' dad could be at the opening.
Stiles told him he didn't think his dad would make a big deal out of it, that if he showed up it'd be about supporting Mrs. Hale and not trying to intimidate her son.
Stiles doesn't think Derek believes.
And as he looks at his dad now, he can't say he disagrees.
"She did," his dad smirks at him, but doesn't say anything else.
"And?" Stiles prompts. "Are you going?"
"That, Stiles," his dad points a finger at him. "Is for me to know and you to worry about."
Stiles buries his head in his hands and tries to ignore the sound of his dad laughing at him.
And when he gets home that evening and places his phone on his nightstand, eyes catching on the plush bunny in biker gear he won for himself when Derek took him to that motorbike fair and giving him an idea, Stiles realizes his dad was right on the spot about picking a costume that meant something to him.
And if it means something to Derek too?
Well, that's just a plus.
From: Derek
Boyd is stress baking again.
From: Derek
Brownies instead of cupcakes.
From: Derek
All in the shape of bats.
Stiles reads the messages as a slow smile appears on his face, his mind going back to the deliciousness that were the cupcakes Derek brought him last time Boyd stress baked.
And as he realizes today is a Friday, one of Derek's therapy days, and that he's making contact.
Which means that whatever was discussed during his session today didn't affect him as much as the other times, or that Derek is doing better at coming to terms with things and learning how to deal with them.
Whatever it is, it makes Stiles' heart flip in his chest at knowing that Derek's okay, that he feels good enough to be able to talk to Stiles today.
So he doesn't even hesitate to hit the call button, walking around his apartment and to his room as he waits for Derek to pick up.
When he does, the first thing out of Stiles' mouth is, "Please tell me I'll get to eat them tomorrow at the party."
He hears Derek snort as he lies down on his bed, arm coming up to rest behind his head as he holds the phone to his ear with his other hand.
"If he doesn't strangle my mother first," Derek says, sounding fond.
"What is it this time?"
Him and Derek still don't really talk much on the phone, but compared to how it was back in the beginning of their relationship - when they basically just talked to each other when the other was freaking out about something - it's easy to see a lot has changed.
It's another thing that shows Stiles how much more comfortable Derek feels around him after telling Stiles all about what happened with Kate.
Like now that Stiles knows all about it and he didn't leave Derek, it means what they have between them is real and there and not going anywhere.
And right now, it tells Stiles Derek is indeed okay, judging by the playful tone of his voice and the lack of hesitancy as they speak to each other.
"She's bothering him and Cora about bartending," Derek says, and Stiles can practically see him rolling his eyes. "She knows she's going to have to hire more people, at least for tomorrow night, but she wants them to know that doesn't give them an excuse to slack on their work and go hang out with their respective others."
Stiles winces, toeing off his socks and throwing them somewhere in the direction of the end of the mattress or floor before making himself more comfortable in bed.
"I can see Cora not liking to hear that," Stiles says. "And I can see Boyd being offended she'd even think he'd do something like that."
"But he's too respectful of her to say anything," Derek agrees. "Not that Cora has that particular problem. She and mom have been fighting over how Cora's not a child anymore and mom should stop treating her like one. Fighting doesn't really help with Boyd's mood, so that's why he's currently taking his anger and stress out on baking Halloween themed food."
"Which are the best thing ever, by the way," Stiles pipes up, lips curling into a smile as he remembers the cupcakes. "And I hope your mom and Cora stop fighting."
Derek snorts, "Like that'd ever happen. And mom agrees about the cupcakes, which is why she asked Boyd to bring the food to the bar so everyone can eat it after they close."
"I hope you know that by everyone I'm including myself."
The low sound of Derek's chuckle does things to Stiles, and he has to bite down on his bottom lip to keep himself from making a sound.
Because it's one thing to hear it when he and Derek are out doing something in public and Stiles says something that makes Derek laugh, but it's another when Stiles is lying down on his bed, alone, in the middle of the night, in loose sweatpants and worn out shirt, and sexually frustrated.
Not having sex with anyone for over seven months does that to a guy.
Especially when most of that time has been spent next to and making out with the hottest guy to ever exist, Derek Hale.
So that's why Stiles promptly starts thinking about Chief Finstock naked and covered in baby oil, not wanting to get himself worked up and end up saying something that'll make Derek feel uncomfortable.
At least not until he's off the phone.
"You should," Derek says, voice low. "I already told Boyd how much you liked the cupcakes, so he's probably baking with you in mind, too."
"I know I said you were my favorite, but I think I'm gonna have to change my mind," Stiles says, turning on his side on the bed.
His eyes find Bunny Yummy, still propped on Stiles' nightstand.
"I'm sure Boyd will be elated," Derek deadpans.
"As he should," Stiles sniffs, still staring at the plush bunny. "Do you know what you're going to dress up as?"
"For Halloween?"
"Obviously," Stiles rolls his eyes.
"Yes."
"And?" Stiles prompts when Derek doesn't say anything else, reaching out a hand to pick up the bunny.
"And what?" Derek says, trying to pretend he has no idea what Stiles is asking.
"And what is it?" Stiles huffs, lying flat on his back again and placing the bunny over his stomach.
"I'm not telling you."
"Derek."
"Stiles."
"Derek," Stiles whines.
"Stiles," Derek sighs. "I want it to be a surprise."
Stiles purses his lips together, fingers playing with the fake leather jacket his bunny is wearing.
"Okay," Stiles says quietly, eyes intent on Bunny Yummy's clothing as his mind works. "Surprise it is."
"Don't sound so excited."
"I won't," Stiles teases. "And I also promise I won't jump you as soon as I see how sexy you look in your costume."
"You're breaking my heart," Derek says flatly.
"I wouldn't," Stiles says, more seriously than he intended.
Derek must notice it, too, because when he speaks again his voice is low, "I know."
They stay silent for a few seconds after that, just hearing the other's breathing through the phone.
It settles something in Stiles' chest, making him feel warm and content and like he's with exactly who he's supposed to be.
"And what are you going to be dressed up as?" Derek asks, voice soft.
A slow grin appears on Stiles' face, fingers hooking under the waistband of the fake leather pants the bunny is wearing.
"Your wildest dreams," Stiles can't resists saying, muffling his laughter with his hand when he hears Derek make a sound like he's choking. "You okay?"
Derek doesn't answer right away, and when he does he comes out sounding a little strangled, "I'm fine."
Stiles smiles knowingly, feeling a little guilty about enjoying the obvious effect he has on Derek.
"I also want my costume to be a surprise," Stiles says, choosing not to comment on Derek's behavior.
And not asking him about what came to his mind when Stiles said he'd be dressed at his wildest dreams.
He'll leave that for a later date.
You know, probably after they start having sex with each other.
And not just with their own hands.
Stiles quickly stops that train of thought when his dick twitches in interest at the images of Derek getting himself off, focusing on what Derek is saying to him on the phone.
Or at least trying to.
Not that he's successful.
You know, at all.
Stiles finds that it's extremely difficult to focus on anything when he's still thinking about Derek with a hand wrapped around his own dick, his chest rising and falling fast with each panting breath, head thrown back, eyes closed and mouth parted in a silent moan.
Which is why he thinks Derek must have been calling his name for a while when he didn't answer to whatever it is that Derek said.
"Stiles? Are you there?" Derek asks. "Or did you sleep in the middle of talking to me again?"
"I'm-," Stiles says, clearing his throat when his voice cracks. "Sorry, I'm here."
"Everything alright?"
"Yeah, sorry. I just got… distracted," by the thought of you jerking off, is what Stiles bites on his bottom lip not to add. "Did you ask me something?"
"Not really," Derek says. "Just said I'm looking forward to seeing you tomorrow."
Stiles swallows hard, heart melting a little in his chest at hearing that.
Because Derek sounds like he misses him, nevermind it hasn't been long since they last saw each other.
"Me too," Stiles says. "Are you nervous?"
Stiles knows he is.
He knows how much of a big step this is to both of them, especially Derek, and he wants everything to go as smoothly as possible.
Which is not something he can predict it will, considering who his friends are.
But hope springs eternal.
"A little," Derek admits, and Stiles knows he must be thinking about what happened the last time he let anyone get close to his family and friends.
"Me too," Stiles breathes out. "But I think everything will turn out okay."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Stiles nods, even though Derek can't see him. "And if not, I have enough blackmail material on all of them for making them feel sorry about not being on their best behaviors and making an effort."
Derek snorts, and Stiles can hear the smile on his voice as he talks, "I don't know why people associate themselves with you."
"It's because I'm charming," Stiles says, running his hand over the top of Bunny Yummy's head before setting him back on his nightstand.
"Sure you are," Derek says in a tone that means he's trying to joke but is also kind of serious.
"You know it."
"Do you-," Derek starts, stops, starts again. "Do you think they'll- That everyone-"
"I don't know," Stiles says quietly. "We already know Scott and Isaac know and like each other, but I don't know if everyone will get along. Jackson and Lydia can be a little hard to like, with Jackson sometimes being a dick and Lydia intimidating people by how fucking smart she is. Danny usually charms everyone he meets, so I don't think he'll have a problem doing the same with your friends. Allison is the same way, but…"
"But she's related to Kate," Derek finishes for him, letting out a long breath.
"Yeah, and I don't know if that'll be a problem for the others or not."
Derek stays quiet, most likely thinking about Stiles' words, while Stiles worries at him bottom lip.
They probably should have had this conversation before.
And, you know, not on the night before the opening.
"I don't think it will be," Derek tells him. "They- They know about Allison not having any contact with her, so I don't think they'll worry too much. But I'll talk to them about it. Make sure they know- They know that I'm okay with her being there, and that so should they."
Stiles' lips twitch up in a soft smile at that, "Thanks."
"You don't need to thank me," Derek says, and in a much lighter tone, "And I also have blackmail material of them to last for a lifetime if they decide to create trouble."
Stiles laughs, warm and bright, "Now that's something I'd pay to get my hands on."
"Sorry," Derek says, not sounding sorry at all. "It's not for sale."
"Too bad," Stiles says, and then adds, "But do you think that applies to them, too?"
"What do you mean?" Derek asks slowly, as if fearing Stiles' answer.
"Well," Stiles drawls out. "If I was to ask them to give me something on you, would they refuse?"
Derek doesn't say anything, at the same time his silence telling Stiles everything he needs to know.
"If it makes you feel any better, my friends would do the same thing," Stiles says. "And so would my dad. Probably. But not Scott. Never Scott. Scott's my bro."
Derek snorts, "I'll keep that it in mind that every one of our friends are horrible people."
"That we wouldn't trade for the world."
"Yeah," Derek says quietly. "We wouldn't."
There's not much to be said after that, Stiles and Derek talking a little more about the party and telling each other about their days.
Stiles would think it would be boring to hear someone tell him about fixing cars and dealing with paperwork and complaining about Erica flirting shamelessly with clients while Isaac sneaks out to talk to Cora on the phone, but he kind of likes it.
He likes knowing these little things about him, likes knowing how he's feeling and thinking and doing.
He remembers his parents doing much the same thing, sitting on the dinner table or the couch in the living room, taking interest on each other's lives and what was going on in it and enjoying the other's company.
Stiles has always longed for that, for having someone to do that with, to have that with, that easy kind of companionship.
It seems like he's found it with Derek, and he hopes to hell he gets to keep it.
"We'll talk tomorrow?" Derek asks, sounding a little sleepy.
"We will," Stiles promises. "Until then I'll drive myself crazy thinking about what kind of costume you'll have on."
"Good luck with that," Derek chuckles. "Sounds like a great way to spend your time."
"I'll have you know it most certainly is," Stiles sniffs.
"Good night, Bunny," Derek says, and Stiles has no doubt he's shaking his head at him right now.
"Night, baby. See you tomorrow."
"See you."
Stiles lets out a breath as he ends the call, placing his phone on his nightstand.
He wiggles his toes, stretching his arms over his head and yawning, one hand coming to scratch at the patch of visible skin between the waistband of his sweats and where his shirt has ridden up.
His mind goes back to the flashes of Derek getting himself off, wondering if he's as frustrated as Stiles by all the sex they're not having.
Because as much as Derek is doing this by his own choice, he must be going a little out of his mind with, well, hornyness.
Stiles pushes his shirt up, nails scratching lightly at his chest as he does so.
He thinks of Derek doing this, too, the soft touches across his chest and stomach, pushing his shirt even higher up so he can get to his nipples, tracing the nubs with the tips of his fingers, teasing.
Stiles wonders what he thinks about when he's doing this, if it's of Stiles' own hands and lips on him, his mouth tasting and mapping every inch of his body.
He thinks of Derek sliding one hand down his torso much like he's doing right now, stopping at the light trail of hair that leads from his belly button past down the waistband of his pants.
Stiles inches further hooks his thumb under the fabric, tugging it down and squirming in place so his pants now rest halfway down his thigh.
He wishes he knew if Derek also did this, or if he prefered being without any clothing at all, his naked body in direct contact with the cool sheets.
Stiles' cock is half hard in his underwear and the rubs his hand over the length of it, the drag of fabric providing enough friction to make his body tingle.
He's still playing with his nipples with his other hand as he thinks about Derek doing this to himself, taking his time to get himself worked up, to get himself hard, feeling the slow build of pleasure.
It's not until he's completely hard that he stops in favor of ridding himself of his boxers, noticing the small wet patch from where he started leaking, tugging the underwear down until it reaches his pants.
Stiles brings his hand up to his face so he can lick his palm before wrapping his fingers around his dick, too lazy to open one of his drawers to get the lube, settling for swiping his thumb over the slit and spreading precome around his cock.
He thinks about Derek as he does this.
Derek jerking himself off.
Derek with his own hand pumping his dick, the other cupping his balls, one of his fingers inching past them to rub over his hole, tracing the tight ring of muscles as his breath hitches and he speeds the movement of his hand.
Stiles does the same as the images flood his mind, hips thrusting up so he can fuck his own hand as he thinks about Derek.
Derek.
Derek sucking one of his own fingers finger into his mouth.
Derek's cheeks hollowing as he releases the digit with a pop, slicked and shiny with spit.
Derek spreading his legs wider, chest glistened with sweat, muscles twitching as he lowers his hand positions his finger where it was before.
Derek's hand on his cock slowing down as he plays with his hole, and then speeding up against when he presses just the tip inside.
Derek's head thrown back and slack with pleasure as he starts fucking himself in and out with his finger, his hand matching up the pace as jerks himself off, as he brings himself closer to come.
Stiles thinks about Derek fucking himself with a finger as he does the exact same thing, wondering if Derek feels as good as Stiles does, if he wants this as much as Stiles does, if he gasps and pants and moans Stiles' name the same way Stiles moans his.
Stiles thinks about all of that, wishing it was real, wishing Derek was here with him, watching him, touching him, getting Stiles off with his fingers or letting Stiles get him off doing the same.
Stiles thinks about all of that, wishing it was real, wishing that when he gets closer and closer to coming, it'd be with Derek's hand on his dick, and Derek's fingers inside him, and Derek over him, all around him, everywhere.
Stiles thinks about that, wishing it was real, wishing that as he throws his head back and spills all over his hand and stomach, it'd be Derek doing this to him, Derek making him come, Derek making him feel good.
And that it'd be Derek's come covering his skin, and not his own.
Because then this would be sexy, and not gross like Stiles is feeling right now.
And he is way too loose-limbed and fucked out to get up and go take a shower, so the best that can do is pull off his shirt and wipe the jizz off his stomach, hand, and crotch as best as he can before throwing the shirt on the floor and pulling his boxers and pants back up.
And as Stiles gets under the covers and makes himself comfortable, already half-asleep, he hopes to hell it won't take long before Derek is there with him.
Because, really, there's only so much his balls can take before they explode.
And then where wouldn't be the fun in that?