Chapter Text
Derek set the table as Stiles stood awkwardly to the side, his offer of help being turned down. "Just sit down, I'll bring the food out in a minute," Derek said, making Stiles smile a little.
"Are our wholes lives going to be like this, bossy pants?" Stiles asked. Derek felt his face heat up, but he didn't answer him, just grabbed a bottle of wine, and poured Stiles some. He handed the glass to him, and then hurried back into the kitchen. They ate in mostly silence, Stiles eating the food just a little too fast. Derek was surprised when Stiles asked for a second plate and then finished it just as quickly as the first one.
“This is so good,” Stiles said once he finished.
“Want more?” Derek asked, and for a second it looked like Stiles might say yes. After some kind of silent argument with himself, he shook his head and pushed his plate into the middle of the table.
“So, how long until you finish moving in?” Stiles asked.
“Not until the buildings redone,” Derek answered. He laughed a little, shook his head, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I, um, I actually only moved anything in so we could have dinner.”
“That seems like a lot of work for this,” Stiles said, but he was smiling.
“I liked the idea of talking in a private place more than going to a restaurant, and the pack houses aren't private enough for anything,” Derek said, as he got to his feet. He collected the dishes from the table and took them over to the sink. He took a deep breath at the sink when he felt the increasingly familiar feeling of words appearing on his arm. He looked down as the word 'nervous?' appeared slowly, Derek looked back at Stiles. “Yeah, I am.”
“Me too,” Stiles answered. “I could just talk if you'd like, I'm good at that.”
“Erica told me that,” Derek said and Stiles laughed.
“Erica dressed me,” Stiles said. “She'd be here if she could be.”
“The whole pack wants to be a fly on the wall,” Derek said, he turned back around. Stiles was standing at the table, he waved his hand in a circle next to his head, leaving a trail of golden light for a moment.
“Well, it's just us,” Stiles said, shrugging his shoulder. He pushed his hands back into his pockets and looked around the loft slowly. Derek was struck by how effortlessly carefree and confident Stiles looked, standing in the middle of the empty room. How right he thought Stiles looked there, how perfect he thought he felt in his life. The feeling was short-lived, as a voice in the back of his head reminded him of Kate. How right she had felt in his arms, and good she had felt to be with. How carefree and kind she had been. He looked back down at 'nervous?' and then back at Stiles, who was looking at him again.
“Let's watch a movie,” he said. The two ended up next to each other on the couch, Stiles chatting through a Star Trek movie that Derek couldn't pay attention too. He kept looking down at Stiles, eyes finding his lips, and then looking back at the screen quickly.
The Borg Queen was moving across the screen; “Then tear the skin from your limbs as you would a defective circuit... Go ahead, Data—We won't stop you—Do it—Don't be tempted by flesh... Are you familiar with physical forms of pleasure?”
“If... you are—referring to... sexuality, I am fully functional. Programmed in multiple techniques,” Data sputtered.
“How long has it been since you've used them?”
“Eight years, seven months, sixteen days, one minute, twenty-two.”
“Far too long.” And then she was kissing Data, and Stiles laughed beside him. Derek looked back at Stiles, who had turned his attention to Derek.
“You're sure focused on the movie, is First Contact your favourite one?”
“I didn't even realise that's the one we put on,” Derek answered.
“How you miss that?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow. Derek stared at Stiles, and every part of his brain shouted, kiss him, but instead Derek turned back to the screen and shrugged.
“I'm having trouble focusing,” he mumbled.
“Hey,” Stiles said softly, “can you look at me for a second?” Derek turned back to him, and Stiles was there, kissing him quickly. It was only a split second long, then Stiles had pulled back, and his whole face had turned red. Derek reached out, turned Stiles to face him, and kissed him again. He grabbed his shoulders and yanked him closer. Derek wanted to keep going, but a second later they were laughing instead of kissing, and Stiles was covering his face.
“What just happened?” Derek asked a moment later.
“Kissing is weird,” Stiles answered. “I just haven't done it in a while, and... I don't know. I just couldn't help but think about how weird it is.” Derek laughed, and pushed at Stiles, making him tumble back against the couch.
"Way to take us out of the moment," Derek said, as Stiles grinned at him.
"I'll make it up to you," he said, and Derek felt his face go red again. Stiles seemed to realise a second later, how his words sounded, but before he could say anything Derek's phone rang. They both jumped, Derek turning to see his mother's name appear on his screen.
“My mom,” he mumbled, as an apology. Stiles sat up and waved for Derek to answer the phone. He grabbed the phone from the table and answered it. Derek didn't manage to say anything before his mother was shouting at him, telling him to come to the house.
“There is something in the wood,” she snapped. “It attacked Peter and James.”
“I'll be right there,” he answered.
“Pack problems?” Stiles asked as Derek hung up. Derek nodded at him, then paused, and realised that Stiles could come too.
“I mean, it's not the best continuation of our date,” Derek mumbled.
“But, it's a good continuation of our lives,” Stiles answered, as he moved across the loft and was yanking his shoes back on. “Come on then.”
“I'll be running,” Derek answered, as he shifted into his beta form. Stiles whistled and wiggled his eyebrows.
“Guess I'll have to meet you there,” Stiles said, digging out his keys.
“See you in a bit,” Derek said. Then, he awkwardly pressed a kiss to Stiles' cheek without shifting back, and before Stiles could react he was out the door and down the stairs, too afraid to look back.