"I can't believe my dad punched you in the face," Stiles complained, fingers running over Derek's cheek.
Derek huffed before catching his fingers and kissing them briefly.
"I can't believe Curtis is already sucking up buying his favorite beer."
"Speaking of how did he even know my dad's favorite beer?"
Derek averted his eyes quickly.
"I have no idea," he said, too calmly.
"Oh my god did you just lie to me?" Stiles questioned, smacking his shoulder.
Derek didn't answer, mouth curling oddly.
"You so did! Dad where's your gun?"
"Hey not funny," Derek muttered, eyebrows moving up.
"Yes it is, he can't hear me." Stiles backed up a step and crossed his arms. "How did he know?"
"We might have done a bit of surveillance."
"You stalked my dad?" Stiles hissed.
"Just a bit," Derek emphasized, looking away again.
"Oh my god when did this become my life," Stiles whined, one hand slapping to his forehead.
"Stiles finish up in there we're having target practice out back!" his father hollered, the back door opening and clapping closed again.
"What."
Derek just shrugged at him, a little helplessly.
"Curtis is such a little butt kisser," Stiles hissed.
"Butt kisser?" Derek prompted, lips curled.
"Well I don't know who's listening do I?" Stiles returned. "Target practice are they even serious?"
They were serious.
By the time Stiles and Derek made their way behind the house they'd already dragged targets out.
Curtis and his father were standing close together, his father apparently listening attentively as Curtis spoke, a gun hanging from one hand.
Stiles heaved a sigh and wandered over to where Henry had set up a few folding chairs.
"They're gonna be at this a while aren't they?"
Henry nodded with a slight smirk and Stiles sighed again before checking his phone for texts.
Nothing of course.
"So who's the best shot?" Stiles questioned, putting his phone away and looking back to Henry.
Henry's lips twitched.
"I am," he said simply.
"Is that why you're sitting out?"
He nodded again.
"Cool," Stiles offered finally, at a loss for something else to say.
He'd only had brief introductions before tugging Derek into the kitchen and he knew nothing about Henry beyond his name. He was pale and slim, face almost gentle. Still Stiles didn't doubt that he was a crack shot, not for a moment. There was just this edge about him.
"Stiles," Henry said hesitantly, eyes watching Eden in the distance, "do you mind if I scent you?"
"Uh," Stiles choked out, "can we maybe save the wolfy stuff until after my dad leaves?"
Henry nodded his acquiescence and they lapsed into another silence.
Everyone doing target practice had gone through their first round before Henry spoke again.
"You wouldn't mind if I did though?"
Stiles tugged his gaze from Derek, a bit unwillingly.
"No. I mean…I've only ever been scented by Derek but I'm assuming this wouldn't be quite the same level."
Henry was smirking again.
"Not at all."
Derek wasn't protesting and Stiles was more than sure he was listening so he wasn't worried.
"Can I show you?"
Stiles glanced back to where his father was lining up his shot.
"If you can make it quick," Stiles hazarded.
Henry grasped his wrist quickly before sliding his palm under Stiles' forearm, slipping into his sleeve easily. His palm curled, fingertips gripping just barely. He began a downward slide, hands tangling for a short second before Henry's hand disappeared again.
"Nice and easy," Henry offered. "Scenting isn't common in large packs but we're a small pack here."
Stiles found himself smiling and hoped it didn't look too stupid.
"I don't mind. I was expecting a bit more actually."
"Well everyone else still has to scent you," Henry pointed out, "and then Derek will be just a tiny bit more…ah…territorial."
"Heh," Stiles let out, smiling more. "I don't mind that either."
"You say that now," Henry said lightly.
People started drifting over between turns, each of them barely pausing long enough to scent Stiles before going back.
Stiles was still surprised at how little it took to appease them and while Derek didn't come over, his aim steadily worsened.
Stiles probably felt a bit too smug in reaction.
Stiles' father didn't comment but Stiles had the feeling he knew more than he let on. He almost always did anyways.
Eventually everyone got tired of shooting things and more chairs were dragged out, beers passed around.
Stiles didn't even joke about having one, still trying to behave."
His dad was to his right and Derek to his left, a respectable distance away but still within arm's reach.
"Not too shabby Son. Not too shabby."
Stiles resisted rolling his eyes quickly.
"You just like them cause they let you shoot stuff."
"Shooting stuff for free and ending without bloodshed is a win for everyone Son."
Stiles' eyes narrowed slightly.
"If you-"
"And I didn't shoot the mutt you brought home with you so you're welcome."
A few people laughed and Stiles' father smiled around his beer.
"You're awful," Stiles complained.
"I repeat I didn't shoot him. Cool dad points for me."
There was more laughter and Stiles paused to wonder if the pack was honestly amused or if they were just following Curtis' lead and sucking up.
Oddly enough he hoped it wasn't the latter.
"In any case," Curtis cut in, "I'm glad you seem to approve of us."
"I don't have a huge amount of leeway," his father answered, taking a swig, "but yeah you're not so bad."
"Approved by the law in Beacon Hills," Landon grinned, tapping his beer to Eden's, "we've got it made."
Eden rolled her eyes in response, laughing and growling in quick succession when Landon pinched her.
Landon snapped his teeth before kissing her cheek and Stiles averted his eyes.
Derek's hand rested on the back of his neck for a second, sliding away as Stiles' father glanced to him.
Stiles lifted one shoulder in a shrug and his father took another sip of beer.
"I do hope you'll consider joining our pack," Curtis added hesitantly, "someday."
"If my son's pack, I'm pack."
Stiles' chest inflated with pride until it threatened to crack.
"Well then," Curtis chuckled, "that was easy."
"Henry and I have some things to discuss on Monday but that's for Monday."
"Good to know," Henry said dryly.
"I'll make sure he doesn't take any of his weapons," Devon offered.
"I think I can handle myself."
Henry arched a brow; lips curving so slow Stiles fought the urge to shiver.
He was stupidly glad Henry was in their pack and not outside it.
"Don't worry Boss. Won't ever need to prove you wrong."
"If I was fifteen years younger," Stiles' father said loftily and Stiles found himself grinning.
The conversation more or less degenerated into an argument about who had actually won target practice and it was only about half an hour before Stiles' father pushed out of his chair.
"Well this went much better than I thought it would, honestly. But my son is still grounded and I need to get him home."
Stiles groaned, glaring as a few more chuckles sounded around the circle.
"Dad seriously?"
"You still lied to me Son. Don't you and Derek need to have a discussion anyways?"
Derek's eyebrows moved up and down rapidly and Stiles groaned again.
"Oh my god Dad."
"I'll be in the car. Five minutes."
"I hate everything," Stiles groaned.
"What discussion do we need to have?"
Stiles chewed at his lips a moment before simply blurting,
"He wants to know why we didn't use protection."
"Christ Stiles I'm not even out of earshot!"
Devon was the first to react, pushing backwards so hard he tipped his chair.
"Wow," Grace let out.
"Okay we're gonna give you guys some privacy," Curtis added, standing as well.
"Yeah thanks," Derek said blankly.
"So anyways," Stiles muttered miserably as everyone else evacuated.
"Condoms," Derek said. And he began laughing so quietly all Stiles could do was stare. "I'm a werewolf and your father is asking about condoms."
"I fail to see the humor," Stiles tried not to huff and failed, "it was a mortifying conversation."
"I imagine it was," Derek managed, still laughing.
"At least I can assume by your obvious enjoyment of the situation that you don't have herpes."
Derek made a visible attempt to sober at that, failing after a beat.
"Fine I'm going home," Stiles said, kicking at Derek before pushing out of his chair.
"Okay, okay, wait." Derek caught him easily, tugging him backwards. "I'm sorry," he added, lips barely curved.
"Yeah you sound sorry."
Derek turned him back slowly, looking just a bit remorseful.
"You'll laugh eventually-"
"Will not."
"But I am sorry," Derek finished.
Stiles snorted quietly.
"I've never been tested," Derek admitted. "It was never really a concern."
Stiles blinked at him.
"Why not?"
Derek blinked at him a few times.
"Because," he said haltingly, cheeks tinged pink, "you were…my first."
Stiles couldn't help it, his jaw dropped.
"What?" he yelped.
Derek ducked his chin and pulled a hand through his hair, still looking at the ground when he spoke again.
"I already told you you were my first mate Stiles. Jesus."
Stiles managed to gape for a few more moments.
"Well…yeah. First mate but I thought that you'd at least…at some point…"
"Well I hadn't," Derek asserted, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Oh," Stiles allowed.
Nearly a minute passed in silence until Stiles couldn't bear it.
"That's adorable," he said.
Derek scoffed.
"What? It is!"
"And if I said you being a virgin was adorable?" Derek countered, eyebrows pushing together.
Stiles felt his face burn and looked away quickly.
"That's different," he insisted, "I don't…look like you do. I haven't had the opportunities!"
"Opportunities?" How did he make it sound like a bad word? "In case you've forgotten my dick expands when I have sex!"
Stiles huffed.
"Well I still don't look like I fell out of a lumberjack long john catalogue!"
"I don't even think I know what that means," Derek returned, lips pursing.
"You don't have to know you get my point."
Derek's frown only deepened.
"No I don't."
"What? Of course you do! Look at you you're like a walking Abercrombie and Fitch ad."
"Am I supposed to know what that means," Derek questioned blankly.
"Derek you're hot for god's sakes."
"So are you."
It was Stiles' turn to scowl.
"Am not and anyways you're biased."
"So are you."
"Oh my god I think this is the stupidest fight we've ever had. Just for my sanity. You are hot. I am invisible. Okay? Okay."
Derek was still frowning and Stiles groaned.
"Just agree with me because I have to go and I don't know when I'm going to see you again so just let's not be mad especially over something stupid okay?"
Derek seemed to consider this for a long moment before nodding once.
"Okay. But I wanted you the first time I saw you. In case you forgot."
He kissed Stiles before he could protest, one hand spanning across the small of his back.
They both jerked as the horn sounded from around the house.
Stiles sighed and rested his forehead on Derek's for a second.
"Oh fuck you very much," he sighed.
Derek's shoulders shook with silent laughter.
"Get going before he decides to start target practice again. I'll see you soon."
One quick peck of a kiss and Stiles' lips curled just a bit.
"See you."
"So?" his father prompted, flipping a neat U turn before heading back down the driveway.
"He's clean," Stiles murmured, unable to completely kill his smile.
"He showed you results?"
"What?" Stiles questioned, distracted, "No. I was his first."
He was still oddly proud of it but still tried to stop smiling if for nothing else than the fact that he was once again discussing his sex life with his father.
"He was- A boy that looks like- Huh."
"Pretty much what I said."
"Forget I said that. It's definitely creepy that I said that."
Stiles couldn't help a quick laugh.
"Just don't start talking about how you didn't mean to insult me and of course I'm attractive too and we're good."
"Well now I wouldn't lie to you Son your eyes have always been a bit too big for your head and your mouth just goes a million miles a minute you know and-" he cut off, laughing as Stiles punched his arm. "Driving," he chuckled, "no punching the driver."
"Thanks so much for that boost of confidence Dad really," Stiles huffed out an exaggerated sigh and rolled his eyes.
"Seriously though you were an odd lookin' kid. You've seen the pictures."
"Yeah I've seen your pictures too and I know very well which parent I got my looks from."
His father smiled before sighing softly.
"You got me there."
Stiles wasn't good at being grounded. Not that that came as a surprise. He wasn't good at sitting still in the first place. And he was absolutely wretched at being bored. He liked to think it wasn't his fault that he was going mad. Really he couldn't be blamed. Anyone that knew Stiles for more than five minutes knew he couldn't be locked away in the same room for hours on end. Or…house. It was all the same really.
"Stiles," Derek sighed, answering on the fourth ring.
Stiles winced, he was being annoying, he knew.
"Derek…" he whined in response.
Already being annoying no reason to filter himself then.
"I can't come see you. You know that."
"He won't even know!"
"We don't know that. Your father set the rules. We don't know what happens if we break them."
"But I'm so bored! And fucking lonely okay? It's like…" he drifted, unsure. "It's like my body is lost without yours or something."
Derek was quiet a long moment.
"I know. I feel the same."
The admission soothed him just a little.
"I'm here," Derek said, "I'm right here."
"I know." Stiles turned and sank onto his bed. "I know-I know that."
Derek sighed.
Stiles tossed himself backwards.
"I'm just going stir crazy," he admitted, eyelids fluttering closed.
"Haven't you been grounded before?" Derek prompted.
"Not like this." Stiles sighed again. "Usually he lets it slide after like…four days max. This is something else entirely."
"It's only been five days."
"And he shows no sign of weakening. At all."
"Well…"
"Yeah werewolf virginity taking. I remember."
"Eloquent as always," Derek snorted.
"Shut up," Stiles grunted. It was a weak response but he couldn't bring himself to care.
When Stiles' father arrived home he was pacing in the hall waiting.
"Can Derek come over for dinner?" he blurted before his father had said a word.
"Sti-"
"Daaaaaaaad. It's been five days and I haven't seen him even once come on if you don't give a little I'm going to have to sneak out and do something highly irresponsible and/or stupid and then we'll have to start this whole process over again and is that what you want? Really? Is that what you really really want?" Stiles squinted at him, lips firmly set in a pout the second they closed.
His father grimaced in response.
"You really haven't seen him in five days?" his father questioned, expression still pained.
"We've only talked on the phone. The phone Dad."
"You're lucky I left you that," his father said, shedding his jacket and edging past Stiles to drop onto the couch.
Stiles bit back a sarcastic comment. It didn't bode well to taunt the person you were currently begging.
His father heaved a sigh, one hand running down his face before tugging his collar open.
"Son I'm tired. It was a long day. The two of you can go out for dinner. Somewhere public. As long as you're home by 8:30."
"Wait are you serious?"
His father leveled one of his more neutral glares and Stiles tossed up a fist in victory before scrambling upstairs for his phone and shoes.
"I love you!" he cried joyously, racing back down the stairs and nearly tripping over Gus' tail on his way to the door.
"Don't you dare speed," his father said seriously.
"Like I would," Stiles snorted, letting the door snap closed instead of staying to argue.
He didn't speed. Much. But he did make it to Derek's under fifteen minutes. He figured that was the important part.
Derek was waiting at the end of the driveway, grinning at him.
Stiles barely parked, leaving the keys in the ignition, before running full tilt towards him. He shifted at the last moment possible, shoulder connecting solidly with Derek's chest as he tackled him to the ground.
"How'd you know I was coming?" he demanded, sitting up to straddle Derek.
"Devon was running perimeter, saw you coming." Derek's eyebrows were battling between happy and irritated and Stiles couldn't help a laugh.
"Why do you need to run perimeter?" he questioned, leaning closer.
"Old habits die hard," Derek returned, one hand slipping up the back of his neck. He yanked Stiles down before slotting their mouths together.
Stiles groaned into the kiss, skin tingling all along his body. His muscles relaxed in a way that felt like they were settling back into the way they were meant to be and he more or less flopped onto Derek.
"Missed you."
Derek hummed agreement, hands slipping under Stiles' shirt and spanning across his back.
"And we have like four hours," Stiles added.
"Just stay here for a couple minutes," Derek said.
"And cuddle you?" Stiles offered, smirking.
Derek pinched him before rubbing the burning skin.
"Yes," he exhaled, pulling Stiles tighter against him.
They laid there for what felt like an hour and Stiles honestly didn't know if Derek was scenting him or just enjoying the press of their bodies.
"Okay," Stiles finally said, pushing himself up regretfully. "Dinner. In public. Official date. Let's do this."
Derek squinted up at him.
"Your father specified public didn't he?"
"Is that hypothetical or did you actually want me to answer?"
"Of course he did," Derek sighed.
"Come on. Take me someplace fancy."
They ended up in one of the fancier restaurants in Beacon Hills, hostess giving them, Stiles at least, a dirty look and everything.
"At least there's not many people here," Derek grimaced as they sat.
"Ashamed to be seen with me?" Stiles joked, grinning.
Derek didn't dignify him with a response, opening his obnoxiously large menu instead.
Stiles was about to pick up his menu, distracted by a sudden call of,
"Stilinski?"
He jerked up to see Danny watching him with wide eyes, pulling his napkin off his lap and climbing out of his seat to cross to them.
Oh. Stiles managed to think. Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit.
Sure of course. Why wouldn't the guy that Stiles had made out with a few weeks ago just pop up on his first official date with Derek. Right. Why not.
"D-Danny," Stiles croaked, voice cracking.
Fucking-just-fuck me.
"Stiles," Danny returned, smiling enough for his dimples to show. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"No…this is certainly haha a surprise."
He reached for his glass before realizing it had yet to be filled, still sitting upside down on the table. Retracting his hand awkwardly Stiles glanced to Derek, still behind his menu, before looking to Danny again.
"So uh um what are you doing here?"
"Jackson and I come here all the time," Danny said easily, half gesturing to the table where Jackson still sat, watching them discreetly. "The question is what are you doing here?"
Stiles was silent a long moment.
Then several more long moments.
He was horribly undecided.
Danny's eyebrows inched up and Stiles desperately wished the menus weren't so huge so he could see Derek's face and try to gage even an iota of what he was thinking.
Fast like a band-aid.
"This is myboyfriend," he blurted, foot bouncing against the floor in a rapid rhythm. "Derek."
No one moved.
Stiles thought that maybe no one in the entire restaurant moved.
"Derek this is Danny." The guy that I have absolutely never ever kissed he managed to keep silent.
Derek lowered his menu slowly before folding it closed and offering his hand.
Danny didn't move, staring at Derek with wide eyes.
Stiles snuck a glance to Jackson.
His jaw was hanging open.
"Did you have something against shaking hands?" Derek questioned innocently enough.
Stiles tried to kick him under the table, biting his tongue when he caught the table support instead.
"Not at all," Danny said, lips curling slowly.
Derek smirked too but Stiles wasn't sure if it was in reaction to him kicking the table or Danny being so…stunned.
It was a little offensive frankly.
Danny took Derek's hand and shook it, not letting go as Derek turned to smile at him.
"Nice to meet you Danny."
"Uh huh," Danny returned, still shaking his hand.
"You did catch the part where I said my boyfriend…right?"
"Totally."
Danny was still shaking Derek's hand.
Derek's smile only widened.
"Danny."
"Mm."
"You can let go now."
Danny dropped Derek's hand as if it had burned him, cheeks darkening.
"My bad," he laughed softly. "I just-wow. Yeah wow pretty much covers it. Good work Stiles."
Stiles huffed quietly.
"I can see why you'd be hung up over him."
"Oh my god."
"Hung up?" Derek questioned, eyes narrowing with a new interest.
"No!" Stiles all but yelled. "We are not discussing that. Ever. Danny if you don't get away from us I will tackle you every fucking day in practice I don't care what anyone says."
"Yeah right the other guys would pulverize you."
"I will put dead fish in your locker!"
"You'll get suspended."
Stiles inhaled deeply.
"Danny. I know how to make murder look like an accident."
"Yeah sure."
"I swear to all that is good and holy, including S'mores Pop-Tarts, I will make you regret it every day for the rest of your life. Somehow."
"S'mores? Must be serious," Danny grinned. "C'mon you know I wouldn't do that to you Stiles. Enjoy your date."
Derek's smile finally fell off as Danny turned and walked away.
Stiles sagged back into his chair, nearly falling out of it when someone finally appeared to fill their waters.
"So how were you hung up on me?" Derek questioned as the waiter disappeared again.
Stiles laughed once before taking a gulp of water.
"Nope. Never. That one is going to the grave."
Derek only looked disappointed for a moment. Then his expression shifted to determined.
Stiles picked up his menu and steadfastly ignored him.
"I'll get it out of you eventually. You know I will."
"Trust me you don't want to know."
The waiter cut off whatever Derek might have responded with, coming back to take their orders.
"Let's talk about something else," Derek suggested eventually.
"Okay," Stiles agreed tentatively.
"You introduced me as your boyfriend."
Stiles ducked his face instinctively, cheeks burning.
"Yeah."
"I liked it."
Stiles' lips curled.
"Yeah?"
"Wouldn't you?"
Stiles bit at his lip for a short moment.
"The look on Jackson's face was pretty amusing."
"The one that looks like he's made of plastic?" Derek enquired.
Stiles nearly choked on his laugh.
"Yeah that one. Grade A douche that he is."
"He's not saying very flattering things."
Stiles rolled his eyes quickly.
"I wouldn't expect him to."
Derek's knuckles cracked as his fingers curled.
"I don't want to know what he just said, do I?"
"No," Derek agreed, lips pressing thin.
"You should probably stop eavesdropping because I can nearly guarantee it's going to get worse."
"Would anyone miss him?" Derek questioned after another moment, eyes flaring.
"Dude put the eyes away," Stiles hissed, leaning forward.
Derek visibly controlled himself.
"You didn't answer my question," he said, lips quirking barely.
"He's the captain of our lacrosse team," Stiles allowed, "the entire student body would be devastated."
"Teenagers have short attention spans."
"His parents are rich and my dad would have to investigate his murder."
"I didn't say anything about leaving a body to find. I'm sure Henry and Landon would help me."
Stiles stared at him for several minutes, still unable to tell if he was kidding or not.
"You do know that murder is not a solution to high school problems, right?"
"Still the idea is appealing," Derek allowed.
"He's an asshat. Don't let it get to you."
"You know what might help me get over it?"
Stiles squinted at him.
"Don't even suggest it. I'm not telling you."
"Had a feeling you wouldn't make it that easy."
"When have I ever made things easy?"
Derek laughed once, sharply.
"You do have a point."
They stayed at the restaurant much longer than Stiles had planned, Derek mostly talking quickly and quietly about his pack back in Maine. There was a little smile curving his lips as he spoke and it was one Stiles hadn't seen before. He could get used to it.
He wanted to get used to it.
It was almost scary.
He was sitting just a small table across from Derek but… He wanted. He wanted so much.
His free hand curled in his lap, seeking and finding nothing to soothe it. His fingers only twisted against themselves, the familiar rasp of his own palm.
It was a delicate twisting ache.
"It still doesn't feel possible," he mused finally.
Derek hummed, one eyebrow arching.
"For us to both be here," he clarified. "Together."
Derek smiled, eyes crinkling with it.
"My mother is immensely pleased with herself."
Stiles grinned.
"She should be really. I mean how did you not suspect anything?"
Derek scowled quickly.
"I didn't want to know," he admitted at length. "To be so close to you…to know that I was so close-" his lips pressed taut and his eyes fell to the tabletop. "I was sure that I wouldn't be able to stay away, even though I was desperate to."
"This is depressing," Stiles said awkwardly, reaching for his glass and nearly tipping it over.
"But it would be the perfect time to discuss-"
"No."
Derek regarded him silently again.
"What if I told you something embarrassing?"
"It would never come close."
"I really doubt that."
"Too bad we won't find out."
Stiles took a large sip of water, swallowing slowly.
"Don't you want to know?"
"No."
But Derek smirked at the obvious lie.
"Hate you," Stiles added, taking another sip and frowning as ice cubes slid into his lips.
Derek pushed his glass towards Stiles, lips still crooked.
"You want to tell me," Derek said, ignoring the waiter's subtle glare as he returned to fill both glasses, replacing Derek's where it belonged.
Stiles' laugh was very nearly hollow.
"I really don't."
"I think you think you don't. But you really do."
"Thanks for that Dr. Phil."
"What's the worst that could happen?" Derek prompted.
"Instantaneous death," Stiles shot back.
"Stiles," Derek murmured, pinning him with a sharp look. "Aren't we past the point of secrets?"
Stiles grimaced at him. That was a low blow.
The silence lasted a painfully long time.
"Fine."
Stiles fidgeted in his chair briefly before crossing his arms over his chest.
"But I warned you. You don't want to know."
Derek simply gestured for him to continue.
"And you're telling me yours too," Stiles hedged, shifting again.
Derek nodded, expression patient.
"Okay well. I was buzzed. Or drunk. I mean. Definitely closer to drunk."
Stiles had to look away as Derek's eyebrows lifted.
"And I was at this party. And I maybe. Mostly. Ended up. Making out with Danny."
Derek's silence was painful again.
"That Danny?" he finally questioned, one thumb hooking over his shoulder briefly.
Stiles managed a weak nod in response.
Derek shifted as well, one hand settling flat against the tabletop.
"Hm," he let out.
"I told you you didn't want to know," Stiles said in a rush.
"It was just kissing?"
"Yeah," Stiles admitted miserably, "and then we talked about you."
"Not as bad as mine," Derek said finally.
Ever muscle snapped tense.
"What?"
"We should go," Derek pushed back from the table, standing, "you have a curfew."
Stiles was too stunned to follow immediately, stumbling to catch up.
Derek snatched the keys right from Stiles' pocket as they left the restaurant, opening his door for him and gesturing for him to get in.
"Wait aren't you coming?" Stiles demanded.
"I could use a run," Derek said, leaning against the door.
"You don't get to leave without telling me yours."
Derek's lips curled and he glanced away.
"Yeah alright."
He shifted closer, tilting his body towards Stiles'.
"When I packed," he murmured, lips twisting, "I took one of your shirts with me."
Stiles went hot all over, lips pressing tight against his teeth as he grinned.
"Yeah?" It came out much more breathless than he had intended.
"Uh huh."
He looked away again, cheeks flushed.
"You're embarrassed by that?" Stiles questioned, quieter. Derek didn't really have to answer, Stiles already knew. "I mean it's like a scent thing isn't it?"
"I still sleep with it," Derek told him, eyes wide and arresting.
Stiles couldn't respond for a second that seemed to pass in slow motion.
"You could have a new one," was the first thing he said. Which was not what he meant to say at all. "What I mean to say," he said, clearing his throat, "is I miss sleeping with you too."
The kiss was barely a press of lips at all.
"I love you," Derek whispered in his ear.
Stiles' hands landed haphazardly on his ribs, trying to tug him closer.
"Me too," he returned urgently.
"I have to go," Derek added, unmoving.
"I could be-a little, just a little late," Stiles argued.
He was practically half off his seat, clinging to Derek.
"I'll call you before I go to sleep," Derek offered, fingertips curling over the side of his neck and settling at the nape.
"Okay," Stiles sighed, deflating.
"See you."
One last press of lips, another tease, and Derek was pushing off the jeep. He closed the door firmly before crossing the parking lot and disappearing from view.
Stiles was home ten minutes early, his father snorted awake on the couch before glancing to his watch, still horizontal.
"I'm impressed," he rasped.
"Ha ha," Stiles let out hollowly. "We had a lovely, wholesome time," he promised after another moment. "Thanks Dad."
"There's the part I was waiting for," his father said, sitting up slowly and pushing off the couch even slower. "You're welcome. Goodnight Son."
Stiles was half up the stairs when his phone started vibrating in his pocket.
"Hey Scott, what's up?"
"Stiles who the hell is this dude?!"
Stiles paused, frowning.
"What dude? What are you talking about? Scott did you have another accident with the dumbbells? I told you you need a spotter."
"This dude on Facebook! That you're out to dinner with? The picture Danny posted? Saying you were officially out? Do you know what I'm talking about yet?"
"You're Facebook friends with Danny?"
"Stiles don't avoid the question! And everyone's Facebook friends with Danny."
"I'm not," Stiles protested.
"Stiles I swear to god-"
"Calm down already. It's just Derek."
Scott was silent for a long moment.
"Just. Derek."
Stiles forced a weak laugh.
"Didn't I tell you he was in town?"
A/N: Ahhhh I know this is super late I'm sorry.
Finals are horrible.
Also all the attention this story gets! MEEP.
It makes me so nervous and you guys just are gonna have to be patient with me okay?
This doesn't mean you can't review or still come talk to me or anything like that okay! Just. Updates are stressful and yeah. Hopefully this won't happen again but I can't promise.
THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH.