a/n: hi everyone! it has come to my attention, by the lovely ThatGothChick, that i kind of fail at ?
she asked me what the number 3 derek and stiles sometimes send to each other in text messages mean, and i was kind of confused about it until i looked back and saw that instead of the little heart i thought it was already there it was just a number 3. so whenever you guys so a number 3 all alone, it was supposed to be a less than three which in text speak means they're sending hearts to each other. so yeah, sorry about that.
but now, onto probably one of my favorite chapters so far in this story :D
"I have to say, I didn't think your boyfriend would be this demanding when I offered to help him look for a place to live."
Stiles doesn't know why he bothers trying to defend Derek when he gets interrupted as soon as he opens his mouth.
"Derek's always been like this. When we were kids he never let me into his room because he said I messed his stuff up. Everything always had to be a certain way or he'd spend the entire day brooding and muttering about how I always ruin things."
"What are you even doing here?" Derek asks, glaring at Laura. "No one invited you."
"You mean you didn't," Lydia corrects him, smiling sweetly. "I asked Laura to come along because she's known you since forever and I need a girl's opinion on this."
"Laura's not a girl," Derek grumbles. "She's a pain in my ass."
"Oh, really," Laura narrows her eyes at him. "I thought that if anyone would be a pain in your ass that'd be Sti-"
"So how about we check the next place on this list," Stiles says loudly, clasping his hands together and trying to will the blood from rushing to his face.
Not that he succeeds.
At least he's not blushing alone, with Derek glaring daggers at Laura and his ears burning pink.
"You're not even going to be the one living here," Derek points out. "I don't know why her opinion matters."
"Did you, or did you not, ask me for my help when apartment hunting?" Lydia arches a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him.
"Yes," Derek says, like it's costing him something to admit it.
Stiles doesn't think it's funny.
Really.
He doesn't.
"Then don't question my methods," Lydia tells him, flipping her head over her shoulder before looking down at the list she has in her hands. "This is the sixth place you didn't like. We have a few more to look at before we have to sit down and talk and I have to make another list. So don't make this even more difficult than it already is."
Derek sighs, shoulders slumping, looking so dejected Stiles' hearts constricts in his chest.
Which is why he's at Derek's side before he realizes what he's doing, sliding a hand under his jacket and rubbing circles over his back.
"Hey, we'll find something," Stiles says, voice soft. "Lydia is the best when it comes to this stuff."
"I just want it to feel right," Derek mumbles. "None of this places feels right."
Laura snorts, shutting up when Stiles glares at her before turning back to Derek and resting their foreheads together.
"We'll find something," Stiles repeats, tone breaking no arguments.
"You done with your pep-talk?" Lydia asks, sounding bored.
"You could try being more sensitive, you know," Stiles snaps at her, only to have Lydia rolls her eyes at him.
"I'm a surgeon, Stiles," she waves a hand at him. "Not a kindergarten teacher. I don't have time for feelings."
Stiles presses his lips together and stares at her.
Lydia just looks back at him.
And Laura looks at Derek, points one hand at Lydia, sighs, and says, "Isn't she amazing?"
"Fucking hell," Derek groans, pinching the bridge of his nose and missing the way Lydia preens.
And Stiles, who's always looking for the bright side of any situation, leans into Derek's space and whispers, "At least Erica's not here."
To: Derek
good luck today
To: Derek
text me or call me if you need anything
To: Derek
and say hi to allison for me
To: Derek
3
"Scott, I need you to calm down."
"I can't calm down!"
"Yes, you can," Stiles says, tone soothing as he rubs his hand in small circles across Scott's back. "Just take a deep breath and let it out slowly."
Scott does as he's told, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out.
It doesn't really work.
"It's not working!" Scott yells, and Stiles has to bite the inside of his cheek not to roll his eyes.
"Then do it again until it does."
And it says something about how much Scott is freaking out that he doesn't even glare at Stiles for that one, not hesitating before he does it again.
It takes a few minutes, but soon Scott's breathing is back to normal and he doesn't look much like he's about to suffocate.
He just looks like he got hit in the head with a bat instead.
"Now," Stiles starts. "How about we get off the floor and go sit on the couch?"
"Okay," Scott answers shakily, letting Stiles help him up.
"Do you want anything to drink? Water? Juice? Alcohol?"
"Alcohol," Scott gulps. "This is definitely an alcohol needed situation."
Stiles doesn't comment that it's the middle of the afternoon, just nods and says, "I'll be right back."
It's not an unusual thing for Scott to stop by and let himself into Stiles' apartment whenever he wants, over two decades of friendship giving him that right, but this is by far the most freaked out Scott's ever been in Stiles' presence.
And Stiles has seen a lot of Scott freaking out over the years, which means this must be something huge that happened to put Scott in this state.
When he goes back to the living room, bottle of Jack in hand, not bothering with glasses because he has a feeling he'd just have to keep refilling them, Scott is exactly in the same position as Stiles left him.
Seeing Scott like that kind of makes Stiles want to freak out himself, but he knows that's not something Scott needs right now.
He needs cool, calm, and collected Stiles.
The Stiles that solves problems and helps people and is the voice of reason.
The Stiles that is an EMT and good in a crisis.
"Here you go, buddy," Stiles says, sitting down beside him and handing Scott the bottle.
Scott immediately screws the lip open, taking a big gulp and scrunching up his face at the taste.
"Fuck," Scott breathes out. "Fuck."
"Wanna tell me what's happening?" Stiles asks, making sure their knees bump together and let Scott know he's here and he's not going anywhere.
What Stiles doesn't know is that he's not ready for the answer to that question.
Making that evident when he flails so hard and ends up kicking his coffee table when Scott says, "Allison's pregnant."
"Scott," Stiles chokes out, staring at Scott with wide eyes. "Dude."
"I know," Scott groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I know."
Stiles just stares at him, blinking, mouth opening and closing without him saying anything.
Because Allison's pregnant.
Allison's pregnant with Scott's baby.
Scott is going to be a dad.
"When did you find out?" Stiles asks, bewildered. "When did she find out?"
"She said she was pretty sure for some time," Scott explains, shaking his head like he can't quite believe in any of this. "But she only got the confirmation a few days ago. She's almost- She's almost three months along, Stiles. I'm going to have a kid."
"You're going to have a kid," Stiles repeats, trying out the words in his tongue.
The idea of Scott having a baby is too bizarre for him to process just yet.
"That's why I'm freaking out," Scott hisses. "She only told me this morning and I held it together until she went out for her coffee date with Derek, but now?"
"You're freaking the fuck out."
"I'm freaking the fuck out!"
"Dude," Stiles says, feeling completely out of his depth. "Do you- Is this- Is this something you want?"
"What?" Scott blinks at him, looking confused.
"A baby," Stiles tries again. "Is that something you want? With Allison?"
Scott opens and closes his mouth, eyebrows pinching together and eyes lowering to his hands as he thinks about it, jaw working.
Stiles leaves him to it, just being a silent presence by his side, and internally freaking out about the prospect of having a little McCall running around in about six months or so.
Holy shit.
Stiles thinks Scott might not be the only one who needs a drink.
"Yeah," Scott says, so low Stiles almost misses it. "I- Fuck, yeah. I want that. I want- I want a family with her. I want everything with her."
"Then everything is going to be okay," Stiles clasps him on the shoulder, feeling a bit encourage by Scott's vehemence on the subject of him having a baby. "If there's anyone who can make this work it is you two. And you know we're all going to be here to help. Me, our parents, Lydia, Jackson, and Danny. Probably Derek, Isaac, Cora, Erica, Boyd, and Laura, too. That's a lot of people. A lot of support. You two are not gonna be alone in this."
Scott closes his eyes slowly, body strung tight before he slumps into himself, voice cracking when he whispers, "I'm gonna be a dad."
"Yeah, man," Stiles shakes him a little, smiling wide. "You're gonna be a dad."
Scott opens his eyes to see Stiles smile and also grins big, eyes shiny with unshed tears as he mutters, "Fuck me, I'm gonna be some kid's dad. What the fuck?"
"Not just some kid, man," Stiles raises an eyebrow at him, still smiling, and now feeling kind of teary-eyed too. "Allison's kid."
"Holy shit, Stiles," Scott curses, placing the bottle on the floor and burying his head in his hands. "Holy shit."
"I think that pretty much sums it up, yep," Stiles nods, even though Scott can't see him, and then he looks down when he feels Scott tense under his hand. "Scott?"
"What if-," Scott starts, swallows hard, looks up at Stiles and tries again. "What if I- What If I'm like him? What if I'm shit at being a dad? What if I-"
"Hey, no," Stiles stares at him, fingers tightening on Scott's shoulder. "You are nothing like your father, okay? Nothing. There's no way you'd ever do what he did to you and your mom to Allison and your kid. He might have been there for the first years of your life, but Mrs. McCall was the one who raised you. And she raised you to be good. She raised you to be the best person you can be, and that person is gonna be an awesome dad. Okay?"
"You really think so?" Scott blinks at him, expression vulnerable, and Stiles kind of wants to find Mr. McCall and beat the shit out of him.
"You're one of the best people I know, Scott," Stiles says, looking him in the eye. "So I know so."
Scott lets out a strangled laugh, closing his eyes and face planting into Stiles' chest, his entire body shaking as he says once again, "Allison's pregnant."
"And you're going to be the best parents," Stiles tells him, getting his arms around Scott and hugging him tight. "And I'm going to be the coolest uncle ever. Your kid's gonna love me. I'm gonna teach them all about superheroes and where the best hiding places are and how to subdue a guy twice their size."
"No, you're not," Scott mumbles. "Allison's the one who's gonna teach them how to fight."
Stiles blinks, considering.
"That actually might be for the best."
Scott pulls back from Stiles' chest, Stiles' arms dropping by his side in the process, licking his lips before saying, "I think I'm feeling better now."
"Good," Stiles nods, grabbing the forgotten bottle of Jack from the floor and shaking it in Scott's face. "Now how about we celebrate?"
From: Derek
Erica said she wants to be there next time we go see an apartment…
From: Derek
So did Cora...
From: Derek
I'm blaming you for this.
"You sure you're okay with this?" Stiles asks again, biting down on his bottom lip.
"If you ask me one more time, I'm going to rip your throat out," Derek glares at him. "With my teeth."
Stiles blinks, swallowing hard.
"You threatening me probably shouldn't be as hot as it is, right?"
Derek sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face.
Stiles doesn't miss the way his neck turns pink, though.
"I'm okay with this," Derek tells him, dropping his hand. "I promise. The only thing I'm not okay with is you asking me if I'm okay with it every five minutes."
"I'm just-," Stiles presses his lips together, gesturing around with his hands. "This is kind of a big deal, okay? I don't want things to go wrong."
"I know," Derek's face softens. "But if you keep working yourself up like this, then something's definitely going to go wrong."
"That's not helpful," Stiles snaps, batting Derek's hands away when Derek tries to pull him closer.
"Stiles," Derek sighs again, lips twitching when Stiles glares at him. "You've already met my friends. My sisters. My mother. You've even met Uncle Peter. If nothing went wrong when that happened, then nothing's going to happen tonight. Nothing but us having a pleasant dinner with your dad and his girlfriend."
"You mean Mrs. McCall," Stiles mumbles. "It's weird thinking of her as my dad's girlfriend."
"She is, though."
"Not the point, Derek," Stiles throws his hands up, getting distracted enough so Derek can sneaking his arms around his waist and pull him flush against his chest.
But before Stiles can complain, Derek is closing the distance between them and taking Stiles' lips in a slow kiss, sucking Stiles' upper lip into his mouth before licking his way inside.
Stiles feels himself relaxing, bringing his hands up so he can trade his fingers through Derek's hair, angling Derek's head the way he wants it so he can deepen the kiss, tangling their tongues together.
They're both breathing hard when Derek pulls back, slicked and swollen lips stretching into a small smile as he looks at Stiles and asks, "Feeling better now?"
"No," Stiles lies, pursing his lips together and trying not to smile when Derek chuckles, his chest shaking.
"It'll be fine," Derek says, hugging him tight. "And if it's not, I promise not to hold it over you."
"Wow, thanks for that," Stiles says dryly, but, surprisingly enough, that does calm him down some.
"You're welcome," Derek pecks him on the lips again. "Can we go now?"
"Whatever," Stiles rolls his eyes. "Just let me grab my keys."
Stiles didn't really think he'd be the one freaking out about this.
You know, considering Derek's reluctance when letting Stiles into his family.
But he figures that's exactly why Derek is the calm one now, because meeting Stiles' dad doesn't hold the same weight for him as letting someone close to his family and friends did.
At least not after everything he went through.
Stiles thinks that if Derek has any problems tonight, it'll be with his sense of worth and not thinking he's good enough for Stiles.
Which is actually the reason why Stiles is a little bit freaked out about dinner tonight.
Because even though the Sheriff knows about Derek's past relationship, Stiles is still afraid his dad will say something to make Derek question what they have between them.
"Okay, I'm ready," Stiles says as he walks in the direction of the door, being stopped when Derek reaches for the lapels of his jacket and pulls him in.
"No, you're not," Derek says, ignoring Stiles' frown of confusion in favor of reaching a hand over Stiles' shoulder and grabbing the scarf Stiles left on his entry table, wrapping it around Stiles' neck twice before nodding. "Now you're ready."
Stiles presses his lips together, cupping Derek's face between his hands before Derek can move away, placing butterfly kisses all over his face.
"You're fucking adorable, you know that?"
Derek ducks his head and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like am not, the tips of his ears flushing as he tries to step through the door and into the hallway.
Stiles lets him and smiles the whole way down to his dad's house.
He doesn't immediately climb off the car, though, turning off the ignition and staying exactly where he is for a few moments.
Derek just unbuckles his seatbelt and turns on his seat so he can stare at the side of Stiles' face, not saying anything, just waiting.
"Okay," Stiles swallows. "We can go in now."
Stiles doesn't move.
And Derek places his hand on top of Stiles', where it's curled into a fist on his lap, tracing Stiles' knuckles with his thumb.
"Really," Stiles says, voice high. "We should go. They're probably waiting for us."
"Come here," Derek murmurs, tugging at Stiles' hand.
Stiles doesn't put up much of a fight when Derek pulls him to him, letting out a shaky breath as Derek gets his other hand around the back of Stiles' neck and leans forward, brushing their lips together once, twice, three times.
"Okay?"
"Okay," Stiles breathes out, nodding. "Let's do this."
Derek takes his hand once they're outside, and Stiles tries his best to keep his hand from shaking when he fishes the house keys from his pocket and unlocks the door.
"Dad! Mrs. McCall! We're here!"
"Kitchen!"
Stiles gives Derek's hand a squeeze as he closes the door shut, dropping it so they can take off their jackets, lips tugging up when Derek snatches his hand up in his as soon as he can.
As soon as Mrs. McCall sees them entering the kitchen she points a finger at the food splayed over the counter and says, "Set these up on the table, we'll be right there."
"Yes, ma'am," both Stiles and Derek say in unison, much to Mrs. McCall's amusement.
"And no stealing food before we're all sitting down," the Sheriff gives Stiles a pointed look.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Stiles sniffs, handing Derek a bowl before picking up a plate and heading to the living room.
"Scott and Allison aren't coming?" Derek asks him once they're out of earshot, knowing that family dinners usually mean all of them being there.
Allison and Derek's coffee date turned out to be very successful, not that Stiles has any idea what they talked about when they saw each other.
Derek only told him that they worked some things out between them and talked a little about how things are going in their lives, and he also made sure to let Stiles know that this time he and Allison have with each other is between them.
It's something they need to do it on their own, and as much as they love and appreciate his and Scott's support they don't want them to get in the middle of it.
They have the same deal as Derek's therapy sessions, with Stiles not pushing or even asking Derek to talk about anything unless he wants to bring it up.
"Oh, they are," Stiles tells him. "They're probably just giving us alone time with dad and Mrs. McCall so they can interrogate you. And that way when they get here that part will be done and they'll be able to share their news without anything interrupting them."
"News?"
Stiles clamps his mouth shut, widening his eyes.
"I don't think I was supposed to say anything."
"Say anything about what?" Stiles' dad asks him as he and Mrs. McCall step into the living room, leveling his son with a speculative look.
"Uh," Stiles blinks.
The Sheriff narrows his eyes.
Derek clears his throat and says, "That I invited him to spend Thanksgiving with my family."
Stiles' head snaps to Derek, while the Sheriff and Mrs. McCall look surprised.
Stiles' dad is the first one to recover, giving Stiles a sad smile before focusing on Derek.
"That's very nice of you, Derek. It's good to know Stiles won't be spending the night alone."
"Knowing my family, I'll probably regret it," Derek answers honestly, lips turning down.
The Sheriff and Mrs. McCall blink as if not really sure Derek is serious or not, but relax when Stiles laughs, eyes glinting in glee.
"Oh my god, I'm so going to ask Laura to show me the pictures of you in a dress," Stiles says, smile widening when Derek sends him a pleading look.
"A dress, you say?" Stiles' dad raises his eyebrows.
"I was five," Derek sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Laura was stronger than me. I didn't have a choice."
The Sheriff nods, as if he understands.
And then says, "Unlike Stiles, when he used to dress up in his mother's shirts, put on her lipstick, and try to walk around the house in high heels."
"Dad!" Stiles squeaks, only to have the Sheriff shrugs at him.
"You did," he says. "And let's not talk about your Halloween costume choices from sixteen forward."
"Halloween costume choices?" Derek asks in interest, taking a step to the side when Stiles tries to clamp a hand over his mouth.
"Oh, yes," the Sheriff nods, eyes crinkling in the corners and ignoring his son's pleas to not. "Let's just say Rocky Horror was a pretty popular theme in this house."
Derek's eyebrows climb even higher at that, and Stiles is just about done with his life and everyone in it when they hear the front door open.
"Mom! Sheriff! We're here!"
"Living room!" Mrs. McCall yells, and then turns to them. "As fun as this is, why don't we sit down?"
Stiles flops down heavily on his chair, glaring at Derek when he rests a hand on his thigh.
That is until he notices the heat on Derek's gaze, his Adam's apple bob as he swallows, the crack in his voice when he leans in and whispers, "Frank-N-Furter?"
Stiles is pretty sure he's entire face is the color of a tomato, and he barely manages a nod before he feels a hand squeeze his shoulder, looking up to see Scott's happy and slightly terrified face staring down at him.
"Hey, buddy," Stiles says, wrapping his fingers around Scott's wrist and giving it a squeeze. "You doing good?"
"Sure," Scott says, nodding vigorously and convincing no one that he's fine. "Sure, sure. I'm good. Never better."
Derek raises his eyebrows at Scott, blinking when Scott rounds on him and leans down, getting an arm around his shoulders and hugging him, voice pitched high when he says, "Hey, man. I'm so glad you're here."
Stiles presses his lips together when Derek glances at him, eyes wide.
"I- Uh-," Derek clears his throat, bringing a hand up and tentatively patting Scott on the back. "Thank you. And you too."
"Great," Scott says, still holding on.
"Scott, honey," Allison appears behind him, placing a hand on his arm. "Why don't you let go of Derek?"
"Okay," Scott nods, slowly disentangling himself from Derek. "Okay."
Stiles looks around the table to see that neither his dad nor Mrs. McCall are paying attention to them, both of them rearranging the plates Derek and Stiles set on the table to their liking.
Stiles would be offended on his and Derek's behalf if this wasn't keeping them from seeing Scott freak out, and from also seeing Stiles getting up and hugging Allison, whispering, "Congratulations", in her ear.
Derek is the only one looking confused about what's happening, but with the look Stiles gives him trying to tell him not to ask any questions, he keeps his mouth shut.
Allison is smiling huge when she sits down, Scott pulling her chair out for her before taking his seat.
"Everyone set?" the Sheriff asks them, eyes sweeping over them.
"Yep," Stiles, Scott, Allison, and Mrs. McCall answer, while Derek nods.
"Then dig in."
Despite Scott obviously being nervous as fuck about sharing the news of Allison being pregnant with Baby McCall, dinner turns out to be quite a pleasant event.
Stiles doesn't know if his dad and Mrs. McCall not being overbearing and rude like they were with Allison has anything to do with them knowing about Derek's history, but he knows he's not going to be the one to ask them why they're being so nice.
And he's also not going to stop kicking Derek under the table whenever someone does or say something that shows Stiles he had absolutely no reason to be anxious about this.
Like Derek told him so.
The Sheriff does ask the usual questions about where Derek works and how long he's been riding bikes and if he's a baseball fan, Derek sounding less and less uncomfortable or choked up the more he talks.
He still blushes when Mrs. McCall thanks him for making sure Scott's bike is safe, though, ears reddening as he tries to tell her that Isaac is the one doing that job and it wouldn't be right for him to take credit for it.
By the way Mrs. McCall has to take a sip of her drink to hide her smile behind her glass, Stiles thinks it's pretty safe to say Derek just got her stamp of approval.
And by the way Scott's lips are turned down and he's wrinkling his nose, Stiles must look exactly like the besotted idiot that he is.
Stiles' dad doesn't even try to embarrass him anymore than he already did when they arrived, making no threats of taking out the baby pictures or telling Derek stories about his childhood or commenting on Stiles' awkward Gerard Way phase.
That kind of makes Stiles worry a little, thinking that if those things weren't brought up now then there's no way of knowing when his dad will think it's appropriate to mention them.
Hopefully not on their wedding day.
You know, if Derek's down with that.
Because Stiles sure knows he wants to keep him that long.
And by that he means forever.
Derek wins even more of Mrs. McCall's love and the Sheriff's respect when he starts picking up the plates off the table after everyone's done eating without being prompted too.
Unlike Scott and Stiles, like their parents like to remind them.
"I hope that by dating you my son decides to grow some manners," the Sheriff says, side-eyeing Stiles. "Because god knows I've tried to teach him some and failed."
"Don't I know it," Mrs. McCall mutters, smiling sweetly when Scott gapes at her, looking betrayed.
Allison just hides her smile between a hand, even though her dimples still show them how much fun she's having with this.
The Sheriff, Mrs. McCall, and Derek joining in at the pure look of the determination flashing across Stiles and Scott's faces as they start clearing up the table and taking the dirty dishes to the kitchen.
"Don't forget to bring the dessert!" Mrs. McCall yells after them, Scott and Stiles sharing a glance as they hear the laughter coming from the living room.
"How do you feel about sprinkling salt on their food before we get back?" Stiles asks Scott, who just rolls his eyes at him.
Dessert turns out to be an apple crumb pie, which Stiles is about to take out of the oven when he hears Scott saying his name, voice cracking.
"Stiles?"
When Stiles turns to him is to see the same freaked out look on his face from when Scott showed up at his place, and he wastes no time in walking up to him and resting a hand on his shoulder.
"You know everything's going to be fine, right?" Stiles tightens his grip. "Allison will smile and your mom will cry and my dad will hug you and probably say something along the lines of I hope your kid is as awful as you and Stiles were and you were little."
Scott lets out a breathy laugh, blinking rapidly as he tries to sound offended, "We were great kids."
"I tried telling him he had genius in his hands when we were little, but he doesn't sound convinced," Stiles sighs. "He even goes as far as bringing up the glue incident, like that's an indicator for anything."
"Because it isn't," Scott shakes his head.
"Obviously," Stiles rolls his eyes, and gestures his free hand between them. "Because us? We grew up to be pretty good people, if I do say so myself."
"Right."
"And so will your kid," Stiles tells him. "So stop worrying, go out there, and tell your mom and my dad they're gonna be grandparents."
Scott takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly before he nods and says, "Okay."
And that's exactly what he does, only letting Stiles place Mrs. McCall's apple crumb pie in the middle of the table before tugging Allison up and announcing they're having a baby.
Stiles can see that whatever doubts Scott had that anyone would be less than ecstatic about this piece of news are washed away as Mrs. McCall promptly starts crying, getting up from her seat so she can throw her arms around both him and Allison, blabbing about how happy she is and how proud she is and how she can't wait until this baby is born so she can spoil him or her rotten.
"And don't try to take that away from me, Scott," Mrs. McCall threatens, wiping tears from her eyes. "I'm gonna be his or her grandmother. I'm allowed."
The Sheriff does exactly what Stiles thought he would do, going as far as placing a hand on the side of Scott's neck and telling him he did good before hugging him again.
They all pretend they don't see the tears in Scott's eyes at that, knowing how much it affects him hearing something like that for the only father figure he had in his life.
Stiles goes overboard, now that the news is out.
He sweeps Allison off her feet and swings her around, placing kisses on her cheeks before resting their foreheads together and telling her that he's sorry but he's gonna have to stop supplying her with raw fish.
"We'll go to baby stores instead," Allison says through her tears, smiling wide. "I know how much little adult clothes fascinate you."
"They sell tiny bowties," Stiles widens his eyes. "And tiny suits. For babies."
Stiles also doesn't pretend not to cry a little bit when he hugs Scott, kissing him loudly on the cheek before extending a fist.
"Dude," Stiles grins.
"Yeah," Scott nods, bumping their fists together, face split in a smile.
When they both turn around is to see Derek standing by Allison, the tiniest of grins on his face, the tips of his fingers touching her arm as they talk.
Even though her eyes are red and puffy Allison is not crying anymore, one of her hands still covering her stomach while she nods and laughs at whatever Derek is saying to her.
"They look like they're getting along," the Sheriff stops beside them, staring at Allison and Derek with a speculative look on his face.
"Yeah," Stiles not, the relief evident on his voice.
Because it's no secret to any of them that Allison and Derek liking each other means a lot to him.
"Ally likes him a lot," Scott says, brows furrowing as if he's not sure why that is.
Stiles doesn't remind him Scott kind of likes him, too.
"Well, Derek is kind of amazing," Stiles shrugs, ducking his head and smiling when both Scott and his dad snort at him, rolling their eyes.
"And he seems like a really nice boy," Mrs. McCall comments, leaning against Stiles' dad before winking at Stiles. "Great choice."
Stiles raises a hand to scratch the back of his neck, lips tugging up as he glances at Derek from under his lashes and says, "Yeah, he is."
He doesn't miss the way his dad looks at him as Scott and Mrs. McCall join Derek and Allison, bracing himself for whatever it is he's going to say before meeting his gaze.
"You're happy," The Sheriff says, not bothering to make that a question.
"I- Yeah, I am," Stiles says softly. "He makes me happy."
The Sheriff nods, swallowing hard before clapping a hand on the back of Stiles' neck and pulling him into a hug, voice gruff as he says, "I'm glad you found that, Stiles. I'm glad you found him. I'm happy for you. Both of you."
"Thanks, dad," Stiles says, words muffled against his dad's shoulder.
"You're welcome, kid," his dad says, giving him a pat on the back before letting go. "We should probably go join them. Derek's looking kind of worried."
Stiles turns his head to see Derek staring at him, brows furrowed and head tilted to the side as if trying to figure out if everything's okay.
"He cares about me," Stiles says quietly, offering Derek a small smile before looking back at his dad. "So he worries. You know how it is."
"Don't I," his dad huffs, all fondness.
"I'm gonna go to him," Stiles tells him, doing exactly that after his dad nods at him.
Derek keeps his eyes trained to Stiles as he gets closer, hooking an arm around Stiles' waist as soon as he's within arm's reach.
"Everything okay?"
Stiles notices his dad directing everyone else back to the table, leaving Stiles and Derek a little space to talk if they need it.
"My dad likes you," Stiles says, placing his hands flat against Derek's chest, and smiling as surprise flashes across Derek's face. "He said he's happy for me. For us."
"I-," Derek clears his throat. "He did?"
"Yep," Stiles nods, leaning in so he can rub their noses together. "Mrs. McCall said I made a great choice in being with you. And Scott said Allison likes you a lot. He didn't say anything about himself, but he let you help him pick his new bike and be here when he told the grandparents about the pregnancy. That's basically Scott speak for I trust you with my family."
Derek looks like someone just punched him in the gut by the time Stiles is done, fingers gripping Stiles' hips so tight he thinks he might bruise.
And Derek stays silent.
Stiles doesn't really know what he was expecting by saying all of this, but he thinks utter and complete silence wasn't it.
And he's just about to open his mouth and ask Derek what's going on in his head when Derek beats him to it and answers his question.
"I hope I won't let any of you down."
Stiles' breath hitches, heart twisting painfully in his chest at Derek's words.
Because this is once again Derek thinking he might not be good enough, that he might not deserve what he has, that he might end up doing something to screw everything up.
This is what Kate did to him making itself known again, making Stiles realize that even though Derek is getting help he's not suddenly okay with what happened.
It shows him Derek's still learning to deal with everything, and that sometimes he still goes back to that mindset that eventually he'll let everyone around him down because that's what he does.
And Stiles suspects it'll take Derek a long time until he doesn't feel that way anymore.
Derek might be doing a lot better than he was before, but he's still struggling, and it's with comments like this that it shows Stiles how much.
But what Stiles has told him over and over again still stands.
He'll be there for Derek every step of the way.
So he doesn't hesitate to cup Derek's face between his hands and say, "You won't. And even if you do, that's okay. It won't change their opinion of you. It won't change what I feel for you," Stiles pecks him on the lips, and then adds, "Unless you suddenly like fruit in your pizza. Then I'm afraid there'll be no hope for us."
Derek presses his lips in a thin line, closing his eyes as he rests their foreheads together, voice low when he says, "I'll keep away from Hawaiian, then."
Stiles huffs out a laugh that gets swallowed by Derek's mouth, both of them keeping the kiss brief seeing as they're still in the living room and probably in view of everyone who's sitting on the table.
"You better," Stiles says, kissing him again.
"If you two don't hurry up I'm going to give your slices to Allison!" Scott yells over his shoulder, yelping when Allison hits him in the back of the head. "What? You're eating for two now."
Derek chuckles, rubbing their noses together, "We better sit down if we want pie."
"I don't know," Stiles says, not bothering to hide his smile. "I kind of like where I am right now."
Derek's face turns serious, eyes burning into Stiles' as he lets out a breath and says, "Yeah, me too."
To: Derek
jackson advances on the kitten rescue bet by saving a litter from the harsh winds of november
To: Derek
theyre so cute omg derek i want one
From: Derek
No, you don't.
From: Derek
Cats are evil.
From: Derek
Isaac and Cora's cat tried to suffocate me this morning.
To: Derek
omg i totally forgot about lucifer
To: Derek
but with a name like that is no wonder really
To: Derek
or was that revenge because you did that thing where you try to lure him into the bathroom with a yarn ball only so you can lock him inside it?
To: Derek
…
To: Derek
derek?
To: Derek
you there?
To: Derek
derek?
To: Derek
your silence speaks volumes jsyk
"You were right."
"Of course I was," Stiles rolls his eyes before stopping and turning to Danny. "Wait. About what?"
Danny gives him an unimpressed look before saying, "Ethan wanted to talk to me about Thanksgiving."
"Yeah?" Stiles raises his eyebrows, lips curling up in a smile. "You subjecting him to the wonderfulness that is Dad Mahealani's cooking?"
Stiles only had the pleasure of eating at Danny's a few times in his life, and he's a hundred percent serious when he says that everything Danny's dad makes tastes like absolute heaven.
Which is why he's feeling a little bit jealous of Ethan right now if Danny is actually taking him home to Thanksgiving.
"I am," Danny smiles slightly before his expression turns serious once again. "But he wants me to have lunch with him."
"And why is that a problem?"
"Because his brother is supposed to be there," Danny says, lips thin. "Ethan said this is him trying to make it up to us because of dinner that one time. I just don't know why it took him so long to do it."
"And that worries you," Stiles nods, understanding.
Because if someone close to him did the same thing, he'd be wondering if they were only showing up because they wanted something.
"Kind of, yeah," Danny admits, and then sighs. "Am I a horrible person for thinking that about my boyfriend's twin brother?"
"No, dude, you aren't," Stiles says, resting a hand on Danny's shoulder. "It means you care about Ethan and don't want to see him hurt. Least of all by someone he loves."
"When did you get so wise?" Danny asks him after a few beats of silence, shaking his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips.
"Please," Stiles sniffs. "I was always smarter than all of you put together."
"You wish, Stilinski."
Stiles narrows his eyes as Jackson flops down beside them on the couch, throwing an arm around Danny's shoulder.
"You okay?"
Danny shares a glance with Stiles before turning to Jackson, and Stiles takes that as his cue to leave the two alone.
As much as he and Jackson make a habit of making each other's lives hell, Stiles knows Jackson loves Danny and would beat the living shit out of anyone who'd ever so much as think about hurting him, directly or indirectly.
And Stiles might not like to admit it, but he admires that on the guy.
So he walks up to where Scott is propped on top of the firehouse's kitchen counter eating microwaved pasta, leaving Danny to fill Jackson in on what's happening in his life.
Scott seems him coming and tilts his chin in acknowledgment, neither of them saying anything until Scott finishes eating and washing his plate.
"Ethan is bumping Allison and me to pregnant yoga," Scott tells him. "Apparently the whole breathing thing is supposed to help when she- You know, when she-"
"Goes into labor. C'mon, Scott, say it. You can do it."
Scott makes a face at him.
All their friends took the baby news as well as Stiles thought they would, and by that he means Scott and Allison already have about two drawers full of baby clothes and toys in their apartment.
Most coming from Lydia.
Whose cold heart apparently melts at the idea of a dimpled-baby with puppy dog eyes being brought into her life.
Stiles can't say he doesn't feel exactly the same, really.
So it's no wonder Ethan also went right ahead and did the little he could to help Scott and Allison out with the pregnancy, pregnant yoga - and no doubt baby yoga when Baby McCall is born - and all.
"So Jackson and Lydia will be forced to partner up now that you two will be gone," Stiles muses out loud, hissing when Scott kicks him in the chin. "What the fuck?"
"I told you to keep it a secret!"
"I did!" Stiles protests. "I didn't mention that you and Jackson are yoga buddies to anyone but you. Like, right now. Before you kicked me."
"Sorry," Scott says, looking sheepish. "It's just- People wouldn't understand."
"I don't understand, but it doesn't mean I'm gonna tell the world about it."
"Gonna tell the world about what?" Danny asks as he and Jackson walk up to them, eyes going from Stiles to Scott and back again.
"About how lied to us about being sick that weekend we went to the beach because there was a Gilmore Girls marathon on tv he wanted to watch."
"I- You- There was no-," Scott sputters before hissing, "You promised!"
Stiles gives him a look that says it was either this or yoga buddies, only to have Scott give him a look back that clearly tells him that he could have come up with something else.
Danny just rolls his eyes at them while Jackson narrows his and tries to figure out how much of a lie that was.
It wasn't one, even though that was not what Stiles and Scott were talking about at the moment.
"You and Allison going out for drinks with us after yoga?" Danny asks Scott.
"Hey," Stiles interrupts whatever answer Scott was going to give, frowning at him. "What about me? I don't do yoga but I also want to be invited for drinks."
Danny just raises his eyebrows at him before looking back at Scott.
"We are, but we might leave early," Scott shrugs.
"Jackson?"
"Yep," Jackson nods. "Lydia's coming, too."
When Danny turns back to him, Stiles is pouting.
He's not proud of it, but he is.
That is, until Danny says, "We're going to Triskele. Be there at seven. And invite your boyfriend."
And with an invitation like that, who can resist?
The answer is: not Stiles.
And as it turns out, about five hours later, neither can Derek.
Who's currently waiting in the parking lot for him when Stiles climbs out of the Jeep, leaning against his bike, hands burrowed deep in his jacket pockets.
His nose is cold when Stiles leans in to kiss him, his cheeks flushed, lips chapped because of the wind.
"C'mon," Derek says when he pulls back, taking Stiles' hand. "Everyone is probably inside already."
"Cora and Boyd working tonight?"
Derek shakes his head, "They have yoga night off."
"Yoga night," Stiles repeats, lips twitching.
"Wondering when our lives become so weird?"
"Kind of, yeah," Stiles grins at him, leaning in to steal a kiss before they get inside.
Their friends are occupying three tables, having pushed them together so they all could sit side by side, Scott lifting a hand in a wave when he sees them and catching the attention of the others.
The bar is not as crowded as it was on Halloween night, with Stiles and Derek having no problem in going to the bar and ordering their drinks, but Stiles is happy to see that aside from a table or two all seats seem taken.
"How did you guys managed to find somewhere to sit?" Stiles asks when they go back to their friends, drinks in hand.
"Cora called ahead and told one of the bartenders to save us a couple of tables," Scott tells him, grinning.
"Why, that's surprisingly nice of her," Stiles comments, lifting him bottle up in acknowledgement when Cora catches his eye.
She tilts her chin up at him before going back to her conversation with Ethan, Isaac sitting by her side and saying something to Erica that makes her laugh. Boyd is sitting next to her, head ducked low as he appears to be in some deep conversation with Lydia, brows furrowed in concentration. Jackson is sitting across from her on the table, by Danny's side, not paying the least bit of attention to her in order to lean in and whisper something in Danny's ear, which probably means Lydia and Jackson are fighting about something again. Allison is sitting on Lydia's other side, resting against Scott, a bottle of water in her hand. And then there's Stiles sitting near Scott, with Derek on his other side, and a vacant chair between Derek and Jackson, probably meant for Laura if she decides to show up.
"Cora has her moments," Derek says, draping an arm over the back of Stiles' chair.
"I think it might be because she managed to keep a really hard pose in class today," Allison pipes up, dimples showing. "Like this is her way of celebrating."
"Her way of showing off, you mean," Derek rolls his eyes, amusement written all over his face.
"You're just jealous!" Cora yells from the end of the table, startling Stiles, Scott and Allison.
"She has ears like a bat's," Derek explains at their surprised looks, and then yells back, "No, I'm not!"
"What I want to know is when are you two going to join yoga class?" Erica says, turning to them and wiggling her eyebrows.
Derek makes a face at her.
Stiles makes a face at her, too.
"I'll try not to be offended by the way you two look right now, just so you know," Ethan says, giving them a flat look.
"Sorry," Stiles says, sharing a glance with Derek. "Yoga's just not our thing."
Erica narrows her eyes, but before she can say anything, Lydia interrupts, "What Stiles means is that the unresolved sexual tension is already too much without adding yoga to the mix."
Derek blinks at her, the tips of his ears flushing.
Stiles just drops his head on the table and wonders what he did in a past life to deserve friends like this.
But that seems to be a valid answer for Erica, because she just nods and goes back to talking to Isaac, who's looking at both Stiles and Derek with a look on his face that's torn between disgust and sympathy.
Not that Stiles knows he has anything to be sympathetic over, considering he and Cora fuck like bunnies.
Or maybe it's just that yoga gets them even more horny.
Not that Stiles ever needed to know that.
"How about we just pretend we never had this conversation?" Stiles says weakly after he lifts his head, eyes sweeping over the table.
"I'm good with that," Scott nods, swallowing.
"Please," Boyd sighs. "I don't want to know that about you two. Ever."
"But, Boyd-," Erica starts.
"Ever," Boyd says firmly, cutting her off.
Erica huffs.
"I don't understand your interest in my brother's sex life," Cora turns to her, nose wrinkled.
"That's because he's your brother," Erica tells her, smile sharp.
Lydia and Allison nod.
"Hey," Scott says to Allison, looking betrayed.
Allison shrugs, "He's attractive. But you're the one perfect for me."
Jackson fake gags.
Danny and Ethan nod in agreement.
Scott melts, smiling goofily at her, "You're perfect for me, too."
"Can we not discuss my boyfriend, his attractiveness, and our sex life?" Stiles says, voice pitched high.
"Yes," Isaac, Scott, Jackson, Boyd, and Cora answer.
While Lydia, Erica, Allison, Danny, and Ethan say, "No."
Derek's blush runs down from his ears to his neck and up his face, his lips turned down.
Stiles lets his head drop to the table again.
And Laura decides that's a good time to show up, flopping down on the empty chair beside Derek, looking around the table and smiling brightly when she asks, "So, what did I miss?"
To: Derek
do i need to bring anything for dinner tomorrow?
To: Derek
pie? drinks? mashed potatoes? disney movies?
From: Derek
Just yourself.
To: Derek
okay cool
From: Derek
And maybe an overnight bag.
From: Derek
If you want to.
From: Derek
In case you're too tired to drive back to your apartment later.
To: Derek
right
To: Derek
in case i'm too tired
From: Derek
Right.
To: Derek
derek
From: Derek
Yes?
To: Derek
i'll bring an overnight bag
From: Derek
Okay, Bunny.
To: Derek
see you tomorrow baby
"So I hear Derek's looking for a place to live."
Stiles stops midway to popping a curly fry into his mouth, blinking.
"You know, when you gave Lydia free reign to redecorate the house a couple of years ago I didn't think that'd make you two friends."
"Who said anything about Lydia?" his dad asks him, affronted, before smirking and stealing one of Stiles' fries. "Talia Hale was the one who told me."
Stiles doesn't even bother batting his dad's hand away, too busy gaping at him as he tries to process the fact that his dad and Derek's mom had conversations about Derek wanting to find a new apartment.
But thinking about it, he doesn't know why he's surprised, really.
It's not like he didn't already know their parents are somewhat friends, and his dad has been over at the bar a time or two.
But still.
Knowing his dad knows about Derek wanting to get out of the loft kind of catches him off guard.
"I- Uh- Yeah," Stiles says, shaking his head. "Lydia's been helping him. He thinks it's time for him to find a place for himself and let Isaac and Cora have the loft."
"That's good," the Sheriff nods. "That he wants to do that. To have his own space. I think it'll be a positive change for him."
"Yeah, I think so too," Stiles gives his dad a small smile that turns into a grin. "And it's gonna be great not being in a place where I run the risk of getting scratched by a crazy cat if I'm sitting on the right end of the couch."
"Sure," the Sheriff nods. "Because that's gonna be the only perk of Derek having an apartment to himself."
Stiles sputters, face flushing in embarrassment as he stares at his dad with wide eyes, "Dad."
"What? You're a big boy," the Sheriff says. "And god knows I've given up on my delusions about you not having sex until you got married when I caught you in your room with that girl- What was her name?"
"Not relevant," Stiles hisses. "That was her name. And I can't believe we're having this conversation."
"Let's change the subject, then," his dad says, crossing his arms over his chest. "What do you feel about Melissa moving in."
Stiles blinks as his dad, voice weak when he says, "With me? Dad, I don't think that's-"
"Stiles," the Sheriff says sharply, the look on his face telling Stiles now is not a good time to play dumb.
"Sorry," Stiles mumbles, mind reeling as he thinks about what his dad said.
"You know we've been dating for a while," his dad says, lowering his voice. "And with the pregnancy, Melissa and I have been talking and we thought it'd be a good idea for her to move in with me. She wants to leave the house to Scott and Allison, wants them to raise their family there. But I wanted to talk to you about it first because I know- I know that this is the house your mother-"
"No, dad- I- Hey, it's okay," Stiles says, swallowing hard. "You know I don't have a problem with you and Mrs. McCall dating. She's family. Scott is, too. And if you two want to move in together, then that's alright with me. You don't have to ask my permission to bring her here. I just- I want you to be happy. And I know mom would have wanted that too."
Stiles' eyes are stinging when he's done, and he soon finds himself with his face pressed against his dad's chest, the Sheriff's hand cupping the back of his head.
"Love you, son," the Sheriff says, voice cracking.
"Love you, too, dad."
His dad pulls back after giving him a final squeeze, giving Stiles a long look before saying, "I'll talk to Melissa, then."
Stiles nods, offering him a smile.
He meant what he said about wanting his dad to be happy, and he knows he finds that in Mrs. McCall.
And even if Stiles thinks it's unnecessary for his dad to ask him what he thinks about her moving in, he appreciates the sentiment.
They both have a lot of memories surrounding Stiles' mother in this house, and they never had an easy time learning how to let her go.
Just like his dad thinks Derek finding a new place will be a positive change, Stiles thinks having Melissa around will be good for his dad.
Better than good, actually.
Especially when it comes to making sure he keeps to his diet.
And Stiles must be showing his obvious happiness in his face because the Sheriff blinks, narrowing his eyes at his son.
"What?"
"Nothing," Stiles says lightly, grinning at his dad. "Nothing at all."
"Right," his dad nods, lips pressed thin. "What's on your mind that's making you smile like The Grinch?"
Stiles gasps, all mock offense, "Excuse me."
"Stiles," the Sheriff sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face.
"Mrs. McCall is going to be living with you," Stiles says as a ways of explanation.
His dad doesn't follow.
"She is," the Sheriff says, his lips tugging up in a smile. "And?"
"And she's a nurse," Stiles says, still smiling.
"What are you getting at?"
Stiles shrugs, lowering his eyes to his plate as he says, "Just thinking how much help she'll be at not letting you eat your weight in junk food whenever I'm not around."
There's silence between them for about a second or two before his dad is groaning, Stiles throwing his head back and laughing gleefully at the dejected look on his dad's face.
"You're a horrible son," the Sheriff mumbles, picking at his salad.
"Thank you," Stiles preens, popping a curly fry into his mouth and smiling smugly at his dad.
"And the least you could do is let me eat some of those fries."
"No can do," Stiles says, chewing obnoxiously as his dad glares at him.
"But it's Thanksgiving," his dad actually whines, staring longingly at Stiles' mountain of curly fries.
"And I'll make sure to bring you back some of Mrs. Hale leftovers of tonight's dinner," Stiles tells him. "That'll feed you for a few days, which means you need to be eating healthy right now."
The Sheriff mutters under his breath something that sounds suspiciously like this is bullshit, going back to eating his food when Stiles raises his eyebrows at him.
"Alright," the Sheriff says, shoulders slumping. "Eating healthy. I can do that."
"Yes, you can, dad," Stiles nods. "And I'll make sure to eat all of this so you won't be tempted."
Stiles gestures at the curly fries and burger in front of him, smiling wide when his dad glares at him.
The only reason Stiles doesn't feel guilty about denying his dad junk food on Thanksgiving day is because he knows for sure Mrs. McCall hid a pie in the oven for them, calling Stiles this morning before he went out to let him know about it.
And it makes all kinds of worth it to keep that from his dad, because the look on his face after they're done eating and Stiles places the pie on the table is priceless.
The Sheriff's eyes go from the pie to Stiles and back again, lips twitching as he says, "I think you might not be so bad, after all."
Stiles snorts, rolling his eyes, "Good to know I can buy your love with baked goods."
"You know it," his dad grins, clapping his hands together. "And remind me to thank Melissa later."
Stiles scrunches his nose up at his dad, "I don't think so, no."
They manage to eat half the pie by themselves, talking about work and what's new in Beacon Hills and wondering how many times Scott will freak out before the baby is born.
It's good, spending this time with his dad before he has to get to work, even though it's not the Thanksgiving day he's used to having.
The Sheriff sounds apologetic when he mentions he probably should be heading to the station soon, telling Stiles to leave the dirty dishes on the sink so he'll get to them later.
Stiles lets his dad walk him to the Jeep, pulling him into a tight hug before letting him go.
"Happy Thanksgiving, dad!" Stiles throws over his shoulder as he climbs into his car.
His dad lifts a hand from where he stands by the front door, "Happy Thanksgiving!"
The drive back to his apartment passes with Stiles thinking about how long he should wait before going to the Hale house, his stomach fluttering at knowing that when he gets there he won't be leaving until tomorrow.
Derek not-so-subtly inviting him to stay over was a surprise, but not an unwelcomed one, and Stiles can't wait to be able to share a bed with Derek again, going to sleep wrapped around him and holding him close.
Doing that was probably one of the things Stiles has missed most since their fight, sleeping with Derek and waking up with him, and he's glad to have that back.
Even if it ends up being just for one night.
He fishes his phone out of his pocket as soon as he gets home, typing out a text to Derek as he closes the door shut behind him and starts making his way to his bedroom.
To: Derek
what time is it a good time for me to come over?
He starts making a mental list of things he probably should pack to take to the house if he's going to spend the night when his phone buzzes, a smile gracing his lips when he reads Derek's answer.
From: Derek
Any time.
From: Derek
All the time.
From: Derek
Just come over.
Stiles is still smiling as he makes his way to the bathroom to shower, taking his time to make sure he's clean everywhere, the distant hope of Derek maybe possibly finally please wanting to move things forward in their relationship burning in his chest.
Not that he's expecting anything, but still.
It's always good to be prepared.
That being reason number one why he's also packing condoms and a bottle of lube along with his pjs, a change of clothes, and his toothbrush.
He sends Derek a quick text letting him know he's on his way, climbing into his car and throwing his duffle on the passenger's seat.
He's not as nervous as he thought he would be on the way to the Preserve, just eager to be close to Derek again and spend Thanksgiving with him, not even the prospect of having Derek's entire family and friends there serving to dampen his mood.
Especially when he parks in front of the house and sees Derek waiting for him on the porch, a blanket thrown over his shoulders, his hair sticking in every direction in a way that tells Stiles he was either sleeping somewhere or half on his way there before Stiles arrived.
"Hey," Stiles says as he gets close, voice low, lips curled up at the disgruntled look on Derek's face.
Derek doesn't say anything back, reaching out a hand to pull Stiles closer, trapping him against Derek's chest and rearranging the blanket so it covers them both.
Stiles laughs when Derek lets out a content sigh, rubbing his stubble against the skin of Stiles neck before burying his face there.
"C'mon," Stiles says, nudging at Derek's ear with his nose. "Let's get inside."
Stiles would think the house is empty if it wasn't for the obvious lump of Laura buried underneath a pile of blankets in the couch, the low light of the tv illuminating her features as she dozes.
"You were sleeping?" Stiles asks, noticing the body-shaped dent on one of the living room arm chairs.
"Everyone's sleeping," Derek mumbles, pushing Stiles in the direction of the stairs. "Lunch. Too much food."
"You look really cute when you're sleepy, by the way," Stiles says quietly, letting Derek move him. "And you're eloquent, too."
"Shut up," Derek says, with no heat to his words.
Stiles chuckles, looking around as they get to the second the floor, "Where are we going?"
"Bedroom," Derek says just as he pushes Stiles past the door to his old room at the house.
"Well, I can see that now," Stiles rolls his eyes as he drops his duffle, biting back a smile when Derek just frowns at him.
And then letting out a yelp as Derek pushes him down on the bed, climbing after him and catching Stiles' flailing limbs between his, pulling another blanket over them and rearranging their bodies so Stiles is half under him with Derek's head on his chest, their legs tangled together, and Derek's arm thrown over his waist.
Stiles blinks at the ceiling.
"Derek?"
Derek shushes him, rubbing his cheek against Stiles' jacket, voice rough and thick with sleep, "If we're going to take a nap, you need to be quiet."
"If we're going to take a nap," Stiles repeats, tone flat.
Derek makes an affirmative sound in the back of his throat, his hair brushing against Stiles' chin as he tries to get more comfortable, hand sliding up Stiles' side as he basically uses Stiles as his own personal pillow.
Not that Stiles has any complaints.
Except maybe about one thing.
"Can I at least take my shoes and jacket off and put on my sweats?"
The sigh Derek gives him carries the weight of the world in it, like the effort he has to make to let go of Stiles and slide to the other side of the bed is just too much for him to handle.
Stiles kisses his forehead for his trouble, mumbling a, "Thank you," before getting up and going to his bag.
His stomach flips as he watches Derek's sleepy form on the bed while he changes out of his clothes, at the domesticity of it, at how right it feels for them to be like this with each other.
Derek being adorably bossy and grumpy when he's sleepy and making Stiles want to gather him up and never let go aside.
He hide his smile against the top of Derek's head when he lies back down again, Derek immediately curling against his side, Stiles' arms going around him and pulling him tight against him.
"Do we need to set an alarm to wake us up?" Stiles asks, voice low.
"Already did," Derek says, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the nightstand, where his phone is. "Or someone will wake us."
"Okay," Stiles says, kissing the top of Derek's head. "Sweet dreams, baby."
Derek doesn't say anything back, already asleep and looking about five years younger and softer than when he's awake.
It does things to Stiles, seeing Derek like this, so he pulls him closer and kisses him again before closing his eyes and letting himself fall asleep.
And he should have known, considering how Derek's friends and family are, that they would not wake up because of Derek's alarm was going off.
Because that's exactly what happens.
Or doesn't happen, really.
Because Derek and Stiles don't wake up with the shrill sound of Derek's cell phone alarm letting them know they should get out of bed.
Nope.
What they wake up to is Laura, Erica, and Peter peering over at them.
Or more precisely: Laura with her phone in hand, snapping pictures.
While Peter eyes them with a glint in his eyes and says, "I thought Derek would have stopped being a cuddler that time we went camping and he woke up hugging a raccoon."
Only to have Erica smirk and pipe up, "But Stiles is definitely cuter than a raccoon."
"Lucky for Derek," Laura and Peter say in unison.
"This is not happening," Stiles mutters as he presses his face harder against Derek's chest, refusing to acknowledge the situation he's in.
He feels Derek's arms tighten around him, feeling the vibrations against his cheek as Derek speaks, "If you don't get out of here in three seconds I'm telling mom what really happened to the Santa painting."
Erica and Laura gasp, and Stiles can hear Peter hissing, "You wouldn't."
"One," Derek starts counting, but before he can get to two there's the shuffle of feet walking away and the door to their room snap shut.
"What's the Santa painting?" Stiles asks, peering up from where his face is smooshed against Derek's chest.
He doesn't feel very inclined to move, if he's being honest with himself.
Derek feels hard and warm and so fucking comfortable against him that Stiles thinks he could probably stay just like this for the rest of his life.
Especially when Derek brings a hand up and starts running his fingers through Stiles' hair.
Seriously.
Forever.
"We only started really celebrating Christmas again a couple of years back," Derek explains, voice low. "Mom made a really big deal out of it, going all out with decorations and food and thematic Christmas knitwear."
Stiles snorts, not really being able to help himself, at the image of any of the Hales in knitwear.
Let alone it being Christmas-y.
"One of the decorations ended up being this painting of Santa's face," Derek continues, ignoring Stiles' interruption. "It wasn't ugly or anything, but it just- She put it up in the middle of the hallway and we had to walk past it if we wanted to go down to the kitchen or one of the other rooms. When it was light out it wasn't really a problem, but at night it kind of- He looked creepy. And his eyes followed you everywhere. So Peter, Laura, and Erica decided to do something about it."
"Of course they did," Stiles sighs, lips tugging up in a smile.
"Mom was devastated," Derek tells him. "All she could go on about was how it was such a beautiful painting and she was so sad it had mysteriously disappeared in the middle of the night."
"She knows it was them, doesn't she?"
"She knows everything," it's Derek's explanation. "But they don't know that."
Stiles shakes his head in amusement, hugging Derek tight and placing a kiss on his chest before letting him go. Derek's arms slide from around him as Stiles turns on his back, yawning loudly as he stretches before settling back on the bed.
"I kind of don't want to go downstairs," Stiles says, pulling the blankets up and around him. "Here's pretty comfortable."
"It is," Derek nods, propping himself on an elbow and looking down at Stiles with a small smile. "But there's going to be food downstairs at some point."
"This is what they meant when they said you learn how to make hard choices when you grow up, isn't it?"
Derek doesn't even bother with a response, leaning down to kiss the tip of Stiles' nose before pulling back and getting up.
"Where are you going?" Stiles lifts his head up a little, eyes glued on Derek.
"I'm going to brush my teeth," Derek throws over his shoulder, walking to the bathroom. "And then I'm going downstairs to help mom cook so I can eat dinner later."
Stiles flops back down, turning around on his stomach so he can press his face against Derek's pillow, and breathe in his scent.
"Do I have to help, too?" Stiles asks, wiggling around. "Is that expected? If I don't want to starve to death I have to help make dinner?"
"Yes."
Stiles yelps, flailing as he tries to turn around and gets his limbs caught in the blankets, huffing when someone reaches out a hand to help him.
"Did no one teach you guys how to knock?"
"Not really," Cora says as she sits down on the bed beside him, crossing her legs at the ankles.
"The Hales were all raised by wolves," Isaac offers from where he's leaning against the door, a tiny siamese cat currently getting his ears scratched as he rests in Isaac's arms.
"Good to know," Stiles shakes his head, sitting up and resting his back against the headboard before looking back at Isaac again. "Is that the famous Lucifer?"
At hearing his name the cat turns to Stiles, big blue eyes glinting, and actually hisses at him.
Stiles blinks.
"I can tell why Derek doesn't like you now. You're not polite."
Another hiss is the only answer Stiles gets, and he figures he must be thankful Isaac is holding the cat instead of letting him walk around unattended.
Cora just smiles from him to the cat, like his behavior is about the cutest thing she's ever witnessed in her life.
Stiles now also gets why Lucifer is Cora's cat.
They're the same.
"Do I really have to help, though?" Stiles changes the subject, side-eyeing the cat.
Both Isaac and Cora nod, but Derek is the one who answers as he comes back from the bathroom.
"You can just set the table if you want," he says, going to his dresser and grabbing a fresh pair of jeans. "Boyd, Peter, and I usually handle the cooking. Between the three of us we don't really need much help."
"Unless mom decides this is the year she's going to make Thanksgiving dinner by herself," Cora says, lips turning down. "Then we need all the help we can get."
Stiles raises his eyebrows at them, looking at the three of them in silent question.
"Let's just say Mrs. Hale is good at a lot of things but cooking is most definitely not one of them," Isaac says.
And then goes pale as a voice comes from behind him, "Tell me how you really feel, Isaac Lahey."
Isaac steps into the bedroom and turns of his heels to see Derek's mom standing by the door, hands on her hips, face completely devoid of emotion.
Stiles would be worried for Isaac if it wasn't for the fact that Cora is practically choking on her own laugh right by his side, and he can see the lines of Derek's shoulders shaking as he also tries to hide his amusement.
Isaac opens and closes his mouth a few times before swallowing hard and saying, "I feel like I would love to wash the dishes after tonight's dinner."
"Good choice," Mrs. Hale nods at him before turning her attention to the rest of them. "I expect all of you downstairs in less than ten minutes if you plan on eating tonight."
"Yes, ma'am," all four of them say in unison, Derek and Cora still trying not to laugh.
Stiles is pretty sure he looks as bewildered as he feels right now.
"And Stiles?"
"Yes, Mrs. Hale?" Stiles looks at her, blinking.
And trying to ignore that he's talking to Derek's mother while sitting in her son's bed wearing his pajamas and where it's painfully obvious they were sleeping together.
But he figures she doesn't care about that when she smiles at him, warm and bright, saying, "It's good to see you here. And you know you can call me Talia."
"It's good to be here," Stiles smiles softly back, ignoring Derek's gaze on him. "Talia."
Mrs. Hale - Talia - gives him a long look before nodding, pleased, before reminding them once again that, "Ten minutes. Downstairs."
As soon as she's out the door Cora is jumping off the bed and walking to Isaac, patting him on the cheek when he glances down at her, looking miserable.
"That's what you get for not being aware of your surroundings."
"Can't you at last pretend to be a good person and offer to wash the dishes with me?" Isaac shakes his head in fond exasperation.
Cora just blinks at him, tone flat when she says, "No."
Isaac sighs, wrapping an arm around Cora's shoulder before bending down to place a kiss on her temple, "You're lucky I'm in love with you."
"Please," Cora sniffs, trying to sound unaffected even though her lips are curled up in a small smile. "You're the lucky one in this scenario."
Stiles doesn't hear what Isaac says next, both of them stepping out of the door and closing the door behind them.
"Why are all couples around us disgustingly adorable?" Stiles muses out loud, blinking at the door before looking back at Derek. "Are we like that? Is that a thing with all of us now? The whole vomit inducing cuteness and whatnot?"
"You have such a way with words," Derek says dryly, eyes crinkling at the corners.
"You didn't answer my question," Stiles points out. "Which totally means we are like that and this is totally a thing."
"Go change and brush your teeth," Derek tells him, throwing the jeans still is his hand on the bed before tugging the collar of his shirt up and taking a sniff.
"Oh my god," Stiles waves a hand at him, throwing the blankets aside and getting up. "Go put on another shirt and stop sniffing yourself. I'll freshen up real quick and change, and then we can go and your family can explore my culinary skills."
"You mean your lack of them," Derek pipes up, smirking when Stiles gasps, offended.
"You know this basically means you're bad talking yourself, right?" Stiles raises an eyebrow at him, grabbing his bag from the floor and dumping it on the bed. "Because you're the one who's been teaching me how to-"
Stiles abruptly stops talking.
And just stares.
At Derek.
Who tugged his sweatpants down, pulled his sleep shirt up and off, and is now standing only in his tight black boxer briefs and socks in the middle of the room.
Stiles' mouth dries.
"You were saying?" Derek asks, raising an eyebrow at Stiles and smirking like he knows exactly what kind of effect he has on Stiles.
And going by the way Derek's cheeks color slightly not only he does, but he also enjoys it.
Stiles suddenly feels hot all over, standing there and taking in the beauty that is Derek's half naked body and bed hair and teasing smirk and flushed cheeks.
He's just-
Derek is gorgeous.
Stiles knows that already.
Fuck, the entire world knows that already, just by taking one look at him.
But it's not Derek's attractiveness that makes Stiles' stomach flip and his heart speed up and his words to completely fail him every time.
Because Derek is so much more than just a hot body and sharp cheekbones and ridiculous facial hair.
And it's in moments like these when Derek is teasing him as they do something so fucking normal that it really hits Stiles just how fucking wonderful Derek is.
And how utterly completely head over heels in love Stiles is with him.
So much that it scares the shit out of him sometimes.
Which is why Stiles doesn't even notice he's moving until his arms are around Derek's neck, Derek's breath ghosting over Stiles' lips, his eyes a little wide and concerned as Stiles bumps their noses together and just looks at him.
"I was saying," Stiles places a kiss on the tip of Derek's nose, "that," his right cheek, "you're," his left, "absolutely," his forehead, "the most," both of his eyelids, "amazing," his chin, "person," his lips, "ever."
"And you say I'm a sap," Derek murmurs, blush deepening.
And then he's getting a hand on the back of Stiles' neck and closing the distance between them, catching Stiles' lips in a slow and deep kiss, his other hand sliding under Stiles' clothes and resting against the small of his back.
"You are," Stiles says when Derek pulls back, only to lean in and kiss him again. "And I love it."
Derek's freezes against him, the reaction confusing Stiles until he realizes he just told Derek he loves something about him.
And just as he's about to freak out and do something stupid like take what he said back, Derek relaxes against him, pressing his lips to Stiles' jaw and saying, "Good."
Stiles shudders, arms tightening around Derek, voice weak when he asks, "Yeah?"
He feels the scratch of Derek's stubble against his skin when he nods, tilting his head to the side when Derek starts placing kisses down the side of his neck, swallowing hard when he hears Derek say, "Yes."
"That's-," Stiles starts, getting distracted by Derek bringing a hand up and pulling the collar of his shirt aside. "That's good. Because I don't really plan on stopping."
"Stop what?" Derek asks, busying himself by sucking a mark on Stiles' collarbone.
Stiles gets his fingers tangled through Derek's hair, keeping him in place, heart almost beating out of his chest when he says, "Finding things I love about you."
Derek is the one who gives a full body shudder at Stiles' words, placing a soft kiss on the quickly forming bruise now adorning Stiles' skin before lifting his head back up, eyes mapping Stiles' face like he's trying to memorize everything about him.
Stiles just lets him look, fingers scratching lightly at the hair on Derek's nape, the warmth of Derek's body seeping into his own and leaving him feeling like there's no other place in the world for him but right there in Derek's arms.
"I told you we don't say what we're thankful for, not anymore," Derek says, voice pitched low, eyes trained on Stiles'. "But I want you to know that I'm- I'm thankful for you. You gave me so much, Stiles, still do. You helped find the strength I needed to get myself back together, and I'll always be thankful for that. Always."
Stiles blinks at him, jaw tense as he tries to will the tears away, letting out a shaky breath when he's not really that successful.
"You don't need to thank me for that," Stiles shakes his head, fingers squeezing the back of Derek's neck. "I didn't do anything special. Nothing but get you to see yourself the way I see you. But you were the one who had to find the courage to admit that some things in your life weren't really okay and you were the one who had to decide to change that. It was all you, Derek. By yourself. I might have been by your side and I might have said some things that helped you get there, but no one could have done any of that but you. No one. So you don't need to thank me, okay?"
Derek looks at him for a really long time before nodding, lips twitching up when he says, "Okay."
"Now," Stiles says, taking a deep breath. "If you want to thank me for my incredible good looks, quick wit, or wicked awesome kissing skills, then please, I'm all ears."
Derek shakes his head, pressing his lips together as he tries not to grin, "I'll get right on to that. After dinner."
Stiles beams at him, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth before stepping away, "I should get moving, then. I think it's been over ten minutes already."
With one quick look back at Derek's naked body Stiles turns away, rummaging through his bag for his toothbrush before grabbing his jeans off the floor.
Derek's waiting for him by the time he's done, dressed in a pair of tight dark blue jeans and a soft-looking gray v-neck sweater, his feet clad only in thick socks.
Stiles raises an eyebrow at that, lips curling up when Derek notices him looking and shrugs.
"It's not like we're going anywhere."
Stiles figures that's permission enough for him not to put on his shoes either, offering Derek a hand up and lacing their fingers together as they make their way downstairs.
Peter and Boyd are already in the kitchen, and they waste no time in putting Derek to work as soon as they see him, telling Stiles he can either hang around and help or go find the others and be roped into cleaning duty later.
As much as Stiles wants to stay and watch Derek cook - in an apron -, he figures he'll do more harm than good by offering to stay - because Derek in an apron is hot -, so he gives Derek a quick kiss before walking around and making his way to the living room.
"They kick you out?"
Stiles shakes his head at Isaac as he flops down on one of the empty armchairs, making himself comfortable.
And sitting as far away from their cat as he can, Lucifer's eyes following Stiles' movements from his place on Cora's lap.
Creepy.
"Is that a thing that happens a lot, though?" Stiles asks, tilting his head to the side. "One of them kicking one of you out of the kitchen?"
"Yes," Isaac, Cora, Laura, and Erica all say in unison, smiling when Stiles gapes at them.
"You already know Derek's pushy when he's cooking," Isaac says, reminding Stiles of the night they all had dinner together.
"Boyd's like that," Erica tells him, smirking. "And the reason why I can't be around him when he's cooking is because I distract him with my everything. Wouldn't want to cause an accident."
"Or maybe it's because you insist on using his chef's knife to cut bread," Cora comments, lips tugging up when Erica narrows her eyes at her.
"I don't want to ruin my nails," Laura pipes up. "Or my relationship with my brother when he snaps at me because my vegetables are not chopped the way he wants them to be and I end up stabbing him in the gut."
At that Cora, Erica, and Isaac all nod in agreement.
Stiles sighs and scrubs a hand over his face, "I'm sorry I asked."
"Then shut up and watch tv with us," Cora tells him, leaning more heavily against Isaac's side.
And really, what does Stiles has to say about that?
Except for wishing Cora was a little bit nicer to him.
Or to anyone who's not Isaac and deeply in love with her.
Just to the world in general, really.
The hours Stiles finds himself spending watching tv and talking to them while the others cook - with Derek occasionally passing by to check on Stiles and steal a kiss - feels a lot like all the other Thanksgivings he spent with his dad, Scott, and Scott's mom; that deep sense of family and comfort settling in his chest and making him smile as he watches everyone around him.
Talia makes an appearance right before dinner, eyes sweeping over the living room as she takes in all of them, Stiles offering her a soft smile at the hint of sadness in her gaze.
Because even though this is probably going to turn out to be the most crowded Thanksgiving dinner Stiles has had in a while, he knows that for her is not crowded enough.
She smiles back when she sees him looking, tipping her head down in acknowledgement, before clapping her hands together and saying, "C'mon, everyone. There's a table to be set and food to be brought in."
Everyone groans at that, and Stiles has to bite down a grin when he notices that not one of them don't get up to do what they're told as soon as Talia starts telling them what she wants them to be doing.
The only one left behind is Lucifer, who promptly curls into himself on top of a couch cushion and stays there.
It takes almost no time at all for everything to be ready, with Erica and Isaac going to the kitchen to help Peter, Boyd, and Derek bring out all the food, the smell and look of it making Stiles' mouth water.
Which is why he doesn't hesitate to rest to a hand on the small of Derek's back as Derek puts down the last place, smiling when Derek turns to him.
"Everything looks amazing," Stiles says, leaning in so he can place a kiss on Derek's flushed cheek.
"Thanks," Derek mumbles, a pleased smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Yeah," Erica smirks, snaking her arms around Boyd's waist. "You did good, babe."
Boyd just smiles that small smile of his, ducking his head so he can brush their lips together.
"And don't I get a kiss, too?" Peter asks slyly, tilting his head to the side and sweeping his eyes over them.
Derek, Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Cora, Laura, and Talia all look at him and say, "No."
Peter huffs, all fake disappointment and hurt.
And Stiles tries not to feel uncomfortable by the fact that, apparently, Peter being creepy more often than not is something they're all used to it by now.
He wonders if that's something he will get used to it eventually.
He's not sure there's a good answer for that either way.
"Can we sit down now?" Cora asks, charming as ever, eyeing the food. "'Cause I'm hungry."
"Can I carve the turkey?" Laura straightens, looking pleadingly at her mother.
Who just raises an eyebrow at her and says, "Not while I'm standing here breathing, you can't."
Derek snorts at that, face going blank when Laura turns to glare at him, but as soon as she moves her attention to pout at her mother and try to get her to reconsider, he's smiling again.
"I don't know why you keep asking every year," Cora sighs. "You know it's tradition."
"Tradition?" Stiles asks with interest, eyebrows raised.
He's all about learning every little thing he can about Derek and his family and what's important to them, turkey carving Thanksgiving traditions included.
"The matriarch always gets to be the one to carve the turkey," Peter explains, and then adds, "At least as long as she can hold the knife without risking cutting herself."
"That's how Grandma Hale lost the tip of her middle finger," Laura tells him, making a face. "There was blood everywhere and we had to eat vending machine food for Thanksgiving while the doctors tried to sew the parts back together."
Stiles blinks.
"It was kind of cool," Cora says, smiling a little.
Stiles blinks again.
"And now that that's done," Talia says, giving her daughters a pointed look. "Everyone sit down."
They all take their seats, Stiles' by Derek's side, while Talia stays standing, grabbing a knife from the table and flashing them all a smile before goes on about carving the turkey.
Aside from that, Thanksgiving dinner with the Hales turns out to be like any other dinner Stiles has had with his own family, with everyone eating and laughing and teasing each other and occasionally stealing food from the other's plate.
With the exception of Peter, who tries to stab anyone who even dares come anywhere near his food.
Which is something Stiles can understand, because everything tastes so fucking amazing he's almost breaking down in tears and thanking god for giving Boyd, Derek, and Peter the talent to be this good in the kitchen.
Especially when dessert time comes around and Stiles gets a chance to eat the pies.
And then moan like a porn start while he does it.
Nevermind that everyone stops what they're doing to stare at him.
And blush, in Derek's case.
Because the pies taste so good Stiles has actually gone beyond feeling embarrassed about letting everyone know just how much he loves them.
Not that anyone makes any comments about it.
Not when Boyd gives Stiles his first real smile at knowing his baking is a success, white teeth showing and all.
By the time dinner's done Stiles is feeling so happy about everything he doesn't even complain about having to help clean up, him and Isaac on dish duty while Cora and Erica dry everything and Laura and Talia are left to put things away.
No one lingers after that, everyone feeling full and warm and wanting nothing more than to go upstairs to their bedrooms so they can lie down and hopefully not move until tomorrow.
Stiles is not surprised when hugs and kisses are exchanged before they all head upstairs, knowing that being tactile in Derek's family is a way for them to show their love for each other, that they need this kind of contact, especially when this time of the year comes around.
That still doesn't make him all that comfortable with hugging Peter, but luckily he doesn't have to do that for long before Derek is wrapping an arm around his waist and saying goodnight to everyone as they walk up to Derek's bedroom.
Their movements are lazy as they change into their pajamas and brush their teeth, climbing into bed and immediately wrapping themselves around each other, sighing contentedly at having the other close.
"Dinner was nice," Stiles murmurs, smiling sleepily at Derek. "More than nice. Thank you for inviting me."
"You're welcome," Derek says, resting one of his hands on Stiles' hip and pulling him closer. "I like having you with me."
"Good," Stiles tells him, leaning in and bumping their noses together. "Maybe next year you can come spend Thanksgiving with me and my dad."
Stiles is too relaxed to freak out when Derek doesn't answer him right away, the idea of them making plans and thinking they'll be together in a year from now hanging between them.
Until Derek burrows further into the mattress and whispers, "I'd like that," tightening his hold on Stiles' hip.
All Stiles has to say to that is wasting no time in closing the distance between them and pressing their lips together, slow and deep and sweet, Derek's hand on his hip sliding up under his shirt and to rest on his back.
Stiles is happy to stay exactly where he is for a while, lost in Derek's kisses, the warmth of his body, the hard planes of his shirt-covered chest under Stiles' hands.
Which is why Stiles is kind of upset when he starts getting hard.
Because if he hopes to have any control over himself, he's gonna have to stop kissing Derek soon.
And he really doesn't want to do that.
Because even though they've been dating forever, Derek still hasn't made any moves or given him any indication that he's ready to take the next step in their relationship into sexy times territory.
So that's why Stiles starts kissing Derek close-mouthed, his hands coming to rest against the middle of Derek's chest and staying there, shifting his hips minutely to the side so no part of Derek's body accidentally comes in contact with his dick.
But then he stops.
Freezes.
Because that's Derek's hand.
On his hip.
Holding on to him and keeping him still, exactly where he is.
And as Derek is the one to move, that's Derek's thigh nudging the half-hard line of Stiles' cock through his sweatpants.
Stiles can't help but gasp as the feeling, eyes snapping up to Derek's face, mouth parted as he takes in Derek's dark eyes and flushed cheeks and swollen and spit-slick lips.
But Derek doesn't say anything, doesn't move his thigh, doesn't lean in and kisses Stiles again and suddenly Stiles thinks that all of this might have been an accident, a fluke, a surprise.
And maybe not a good one.
Which is why he goes right on apologizing.
"I'm sorry," Stiles rushes out, swallowing hard, stomach uneasy. "I don't- If you don't want to- We don't have to. I don't want you to feel like we need to just because- Just because-"
But Derek surprises him, with his hand sliding down Stiles' body again and his fingers coming to rest just under the waistband of Stiles' sweats, tentative.
And if that's not enough to sweep the ground from under Stiles' feet, Derek actually opens his mouth and uses his words.
Which Stiles would compliment him about and be proud of if he wasn't torn between feeling like he's never been this turned on in his life or scared that he might do or say something wrong.
"I want," Derek whispers, hot breath ghosting over Stiles' parted lips. "I want."
Stiles swallows hard, heart beating wildly in his chest, stomach doing somersaults at Derek's words.
"Yeah?" Stiles asks, because this is a big deal.
A really important step.
And he wants to make sure Derek is a hundred percent certain he's ready and wants to go through with this before they do anything else.
He knows sex is not something Derek takes lightly, not after the experience he had, so he doesn't want anything to happen without them being on the same page about it all.
And, most importantly, with him knowing Derek's enjoying it, and not just doing this because he thinks this is something Stiles expects from him.
But judging by the way Derek moves closer to him, his thigh pressing harder against Stiles' and making him moan, he's sure.
He still goes ahead and says it, for Stiles' peace of mind, like he knows that if Stiles doesn't hear the words than nothing's going to happen.
"I want to," Derek says, nails scratching at Stiles' hip. "I want to do this with you. I want- Stiles."
"Whatever you want," Stiles tells him, licking his lips before ducking his head and resting their foreheads together. "However you want it. You know that. And if there's anything you don't-"
"I'll tell you," Derek promises, bumping their noses together. "Now come here."
Stiles doesn't know where Derek expects him to go, considering there's little to no space between them in bed, but all thoughts fly out of his head as Derek slots their lips together and kisses him, open and wet and dirtier than ever before.
Stiles' hands move to grasp at Derek's shoulders, kissing him just as hard but still letting Derek take control of what they're doing, still letting him set the pace, because this is Derek's show and Stiles is just along for the ride.
Please.
It's not long before Derek's hand dips further down Stiles' pants, Derek breaking the kiss and looking down at the fabric as if asking for permission to take it off of Stiles, which Stiles gladly gives to him, getting his own hand over Derek's wrist and helping him do it, his shirt following soon after.
He can't help but feel a little bit nervous at being completely naked for the first time ever in front of Derek, but it's not like he has too much time to think about it.
Not when Derek moves to take care of his own clothes.
And then he's naked.
They're both naked, actually.
Lying in Derek' bed.
Finally.
Stiles will take time to feel sad about not being able to stare at Derek's naked body for as long as he wants to later, because right now Derek's hand is back on him, this time cupping his ass, and Derek's mouth is back on his own, tongue tracing the seam between Stiles' lips.
Derek's thigh goes back to its place between Stiles' parted legs, Stiles breaking the kiss and panting against Derek's lips as his dick slides up against Derek's hip, slicking Derek's skin with precome.
He can feel Derek against his lower stomach, hard and heavy and leaking, and he can't help but shift so they're pressed even closer together, Derek helping when he moves his hand from Stiles' ass down to the back of his thigh, pulling Stiles' leg up and over his hip.
And then it's heaven as their cocks line up, both rocking their hips as they gasp in each other's mouths, Derek's teeth find their way to Stiles' neck, down to his collarbone, to the bruise he put there just hours before.
Stiles can hear someone moaning, doesn't care if it's him or Derek, too busy getting his fingers tangled through Derek's hair and pulling his head back, sucking Derek's bottom lip into his mouth when Derek leans over to kiss him.
And then Derek's hand comes back to his ass, pulls him in and it's even better, their positions changing, Derek's dick nudging at his balls and Derek bringing his other hand up to pinch at Stiles' nipples.
And all Stiles can do is hold on and close his eyes and gasp at how overwhelmed he feels right now, with Derek, like this.
Because as heat starts pooling in his stomach and Derek's lips whisper for him to open your eyes and look at me and Stiles, it's just-
It's too much and not fucking nearly enough and Stiles doesn't know what to do with himself right now.
Not when Derek is looking at him like he never wants to look away, to let him get away, to be anywhere but right where he is.
With Stiles right there with him.
And Stiles can't say he doesn't feel the exact same way.
Because he does.
He really fucking does.
Derek's everything he's ever wanted and Stiles has him.
And everything he's feeling must be showing on his face because when Derek gasps his name again he sounds raw and wrecked and like he can't quite believe he gets to have this.
So Stiles kisses him.
And shows him that he doesn't have to worry about getting Stiles because he already has him.
And if Stiles has anything to say about it, he always will.
And it's with that in mind and Derek's lips on his own and both of them bringing a hand down to close around their dicks that Stiles comes, spilling over Derek's fingers and Derek's stomach and himself.
He keeps his eyes on Derek as he speeds the movements of his hand around Derek's dick, everything slicker and smoother now that he can use his own come as lube, his mouth parted as he tries to take in every twitch and choked-up moan Derek's makes as Stiles touches him.
And Derek looks even more beautiful than Stiles thought he would look when he comes, his breath hitching as his entire body tenses, eyes closed and head thrown back, the pale expanse of his throat expose to Stiles' teeth and lips and he's brought over the edge.
Stiles takes the advantage to mark Derek the same way Derek marked him, getting his mouth on him, worrying at the skin between his teeth until Derek tugs him away and into a kiss, sloppy and lazy as they're too satisfied and happy to make an effort.
Derek especially so, not even making a sound as Stiles pushes at his shoulder, Derek rolling on his back like he's not really in control of his body.
At least not yet.
And doesn't that little fact get Stiles' dick to make an attempt to get hard again.
Not that Stiles listens as he takes in the loose smile on Derek's lips, his eyes glazed over and sliding almost shut.
"Derek?" Stiles asks, resting his hand against the side of Derek's neck, thumb brushing against the quickly forming bruise Stiles put there.
Derek's only response it to hum in acknowledgement and lean into the touch, and Stiles tries not to feel too smug for apparently making Derek come so fucking hard that he can't even form words and string sentences together.
Not when they didn't do anything but rut against each other.
And that gets Stiles wondering how fucking fantastic having actual buttsex with Derek will feel like.
"We have to clean up," Stiles tells him, bringing his hand down and letting his index finger slide over the mess covering Derek's stomach.
Derek just hums again, smile widening a little.
And Stiles decides right then and there that he needs to see more of sexed Derek in his life.
Preferably all the time.
For the rest of for-fucking-ever.
Stiles laughs quietly, pecks Derek on the lips, and makes a move to get up, stopping on his tracks when he hears a low whine come from Derek.
When he turns is to see Derek staring at him, brows furrowed together, lips thin.
"Where are you going?" Derek asks, voice rough from sex.
Heh.
Sex.
That he just had.
With Stiles.
Who is loving life right now.
"Bathroom," Stiles says, propping up on his elbow so he can stare down at his boyfriend. "I figured I'd get something to clean us up since it seems like you're not going anywhere for a while."
Derek's expression smooths out into a slightly less blissful one then before, but he still smiles softly at Stiles and nods, "Okay. Towels are under the sink."
Stiles rolls his eyes at him and walks quickly to the bathroom, the cold temperature making him shiver, and cleans himself up as best as he can before bringing a wet towel to Derek.
Who doesn't make a move to do anything about wiping Stiles' come off his stomach.
"Is this how you generally are after sex?" Stiles asks as he starts cleaning Derek up, ignoring the warmth in his chest as he takes care of Derek. "All kinds of and pliant and lazy?"
"No," Derek mumbles, breathing deeply as Stiles towels him dry.
"So I'm just lucky to see you like this, then?" Stiles teases, dipping his head down so he can press tiny kisses over Derek's chest.
"Yes," Derek answers without hesitation, wiggling on the bed until he's lying back on his side again.
Stiles huffs, throwing the towel on the floor before going about finding their clothes so they can get dressed again, throwing Derek his sweats and underwear in his face.
"Get dressed before you fall asleep," Stiles tells him, biting on the inside of his cheek when Derek frowns at him, offended. "Don't want you getting sick."
Derek sighs but complies, and when Stiles lies down beside him again he's not surprised to have Derek presses close to him, face smashed against his neck, an arm thrown over Stiles' waist and a leg over Stiles' own.
Stiles knows they'll have to talk about this later, that what they did tonight changes things, but as he looks down at Derek trying to use him as his own personal teddy bear again, he finds that he doesn't particularly care about any of that right now.
Not when Derek cuddles closer, his smile evident against the soft skin of Stiles' collarbone when he says, "Night, Bunny."
Stiles just hides his own smile against Derek's hair instead, placing a kiss on the top of his head before he says, "Night, baby. Happy Thanksgiving."
a/n: SURPRISE