Stiles drifts into his room quickly without a second thought before dropping his backpack and going straight for his laptop.
'Hey Stiles!' his dad calls.
'Yo, D-erek?' Stiles cuts himself off as he turns around to see Derek Hale. In his bedroom. With his dad down the hall? This was not going to end well. There were about a million ways in which this could end not well. Derek maiming his dad was at the top of that list.
He didn't know Derek very well but he got the sense he was not a patient guy, with a short temper to match. Werewolves and patience – not a match made in heaven, it would seem.
Derek gestures for him to be quiet and get rid of his dad.
Without a second thought, Stiles leaps for the doorway, swinging the door with him to block his Dads view.
'What'd you say?' his dad asks.
'What? I said Yo… dad?' trying, and feeling like he was failing, to being subtle.
'Listen, I've got something I've gotta take care of, but I'm gonna be there tonight. I mean, your first game.'
'My first game. Gosh, great. Awesome. Uh, good.' Don't be suspicious Stiles, just be normal. He kept thinking to himself. This was fine. Everything was fine. Derek Hale was in his bedroom and his dad – the Sheriff – was standing at his door.
'I'm very happy for you. And I'm really proud of you', his dad beamed.
'Thanks. Me too. I'm happy and proud of myself.'
'So they're really gonna let you play, right?'
'Yeah, dad, I'm first line. You bet!' Stiles didn't dwell on the tinge of doubt in his dad's voice… considering he could barely believe it himself either.
Stiles' dads face lit up light a Christmas tree, he shrugged and repeated, 'I'm very proud.'
'Oh, me too. Again, I'm…' he started to respond when his dad pulled him in for a hug. Love you too dad but now really isn't the best time. He thought to himself. 'Huggie. Huggie.. huggie' was the only thing Stiles could think to say… was that weird? Was he being weird?
His dad gave him a confused look, shrugged again and said 'See you there', as he turned and began to walk away.
'Take it easy', he watched as his dad left. He sighed and let his head fall back against his door for a moment. Just one moment. To get his bearings before dealing with the chaos that was Derek Hale.
He backed into his room, shut the door, and turned around, 'So-ooft!' next thing he knew, he was being shoved back against the door and Derek was mere inches from his face, pointing a finger at him accusatorily.
'If you say one word…'
'What, you mean, like, "Hey, dad, Derek Hale's in my room. Bring your gun"?' Derek's expression softened, and the tension in his shoulders eased slightly but his hand was still fisted in Stiles' shirt. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant feeling. 'Yeah, that's right. If I'm harbouring your fugitive ass, it's my house, my rules buddy.' Stiles flicked Derek's jacket because he needed to do something with his hand other than grip it and pull him closer.
Derek looked down to where Stiles had touched him. Stiles hesitated for a second – was he trying to rile Derek up again? Stop baiting him, Stiles. His inner voice chastised. Derek nodded and Stiles noticed his eyes lower. Is he-? Is he staring at my lips? Stiles' throat bobbed and he felt his breath catch.
Derek almost imperceptibly tightened his fist in Stiles' shirt. 'You scared of me, Stiles?' Derek lifted the side of his mouth in a slight smirk as he asked. All the while, still staring at Stiles' lips. How could he reply to that? Was he scared of Derek? Of course he was scared of him, but he was also intimidated by him, infuriated by him, and there was the… other, more complicated, way Derek made him feel. He didn't know how to put it into words.
'I'm not-I mean I am, but I'm not. Not right now at least.' That was the most honest answer Stiles could bring himself to give.
'Then why is your heart racing?' Derek finally flicked his eyes up to meet Stiles'. Derek unclenched his fist but kept his hand on Stiles' chest, splayed out. Stiles didn't respond, he didn't know how to. This whole situation felt tenuous – Derek was unpredictable and Stiles hadn't known him long enough to be able to read his body language. He thought Derek might kiss him. He wanted Derek to kiss him.
As if he could read Stiles' thoughts, Derek leaned in. Within a split second, Stiles noticed Derek's pupils dilate, and then Derek was crashing their lips together.
The kiss was bruising, demanding, desperate.
The hand Derek had on Stiles' chest fisted in his shirt again, while Derek raked his nails gently down the back of Stiles' neck with the other. Stiles nearly buckled at the knees from the sensation, and he couldn't control the guttural moan that left his throat even if he wanted to.
They broke apart for a moment, both gasping for air. Stiles, eyes wide with shock. Derek, eyes dark with arousal.
Derek took several steps back, releasing his hold on Stiles, closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to reign himself in. 'That… shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-', Derek flinched, 'didn't mean to force that on you.' Stiles scrunched his face in confusion. Forced? He thinks he forced that kiss on me?
Stiles made a split-second decision – he took 2 long strides forward, gripped Derek by the back of the neck with both hands and pulled him in for another searing kiss, only this time, he was the one in control. He let his tongue slide teasingly across to graze Derek's and suddenly Derek was the one moaning.
After a few moments, Stiles pulled back and looked Derek squarely in the eye so it was clear he was being earnest. 'My house, my rules, remember? If I didn't want you to kiss me, I would have made that known. Nothing about what just happened was forced on me, understand?'
Derek hesitantly smiled, 'yeah, okay, understood'. They shared a lingering look, both smiling, before silently communicating that they still had important things to discuss.
'Scott didn't get the necklace?' And just like that, it was back to business. But that would not be the last time Stiles would kiss Derek Hale, he'd make sure of it.
End