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"I’m running away."
Derek raised an eyebrow. “Really.”
The boy nodded once, slowly, and then again, this time quickly, as if to assure himself that yes, that was what he was doing.
There was a pause as the two boys fell silent, the one tapping his fingers on the table idly, and the other trying to decide what the hell he was getting himself into by letting this stranger into his house.
Derek cleared his throat. “You know it’s snowing, right?”
The boy looked up suddenly, like he’d forgotten he was in the middle of a conversation. “Uh, yeah, I guess. I don’t know. I didn’t really think about it.”
Somehow, that didn’t surprise Derek. “Alright, well, do you want something to drink?” he asked, standing and walking to the kitchen. “Water, tea, hot chocolate…”
The boy’s eyes lit up at the mention of hot chocolate, and he nodded quickly. “Yeah, great, that’s great.”
His words were rushed, like he was trying to sound casual despite his obvious excitement. Derek couldn’t help but smile a bit as he poured milk into a mug and mixed the cocoa powder in. “So, I never got your name,” he said finally, glancing up to see the boy was already looking at him.
His cheeks turned red and he ducked his head quickly. “Stiles,” he said to the counter. “My name’s Stiles.”
Derek nodded a little. Strange name, he thought. Strange, but oddly fitting.
"And yours?"
"Oh. Derek." The microwave went off, saving him from any more awkward small talk. "Careful, it’s hot," he warned, handing the mug to the bo- to Stiles.
Stiles nodded his thanks, standing at the counter and sipping it slowly.
Derek leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, studying Stiles. “So why were you running away?” he asked bluntly. “I mean, you don’t really seem like the runaway type.”
Stiles shrugged a little, looking into his mug like it was the one asking him a question. “I don’t know. It’s stupid now - it just seemed really important then, you know?”
Derek didn’t know, but he nodded anyway. “Well, I guess you’re lucky I found you then, huh?” he said, smiling a little.
The corner of Stiles’ mouth hitched up, and he nodded. “I would have been wandering for hours. ‘Snowing’ my ass - it’s a friggin’ blizzard out there.”
And that was the end of another round of small talk. Derek coughed awkwardly. “Uh, do you wanna watch a movie or something?” he asked finally.
Stiles looked up at Derek over his mug. “Do you have It’s a Wonderful Life?” he asked hopefully.
Derek couldn’t hold back a small grin. “Yeah, I do, actually,” he said, leading Stiles to the living room.
He sat down on the couch, turning on the TV and finding the movie. It took him a moment to realize Stiles was standing awkwardly in the doorway, one hand shoved in his pocket and the other cradling the mug of hot chocolate to his chest.
Derek chuckled. “You can sit down, you know,” he said, patting the couch beside him.
Stiles smiled, nodding a little as he walked over and sat down a little too close to Derek - and yet, he wasn’t complaining. Didn’t even notice Stiles’ hand just a few inches away from his, fingers tapping idly on the couch (did he ever sit still?), mug hovering just below his lips like he was waiting for the perfect moment to take a sip.
Focus, Derek. He was just some guy out wandering in the snow at eleven at night. An idiot, yes. An idiot Derek should slowly fall in love with, no.
"Love this movie."
Derek looked up. “Huh?”
Stiles nodded toward the screen. ”I was just saying that I really love this movie, is all,” he said with a smile.
Derek nodded quickly. “Oh, yeah, me too.”
And that was it. They spent the next half hour or so watching the movie in complete silence.
Well, Stiles watched the movie. Derek more or less watched Stiles, smiling at the way he watched like it was the first time he’d ever seen it. There was something mesmerizing about the sheer wonder in his eyes, the little half-smile playing at his lips, not even seeming to notice Derek sitting there beside him.
It was nice. Until out of nowhere Stiles turned to him and asked, “Why’d you let me stay here?”
Derek’s cheeks flushed red at being caught staring, but Stiles didn’t even seem to notice. “Uh, I don’t know. You seemed pretty harmless, and pretty cold, too.” He shrugged, ducking his head and rubbing the back of his neck. God, Stiles probably thought he was some kind of freak now. Better cut his losses before he really crashed and burned. “It’s getting pretty late. I get it if you want to leave now.”
Stiles looked surprised, and a little disappointed. “Oh. Sorry. I, uh, didn’t realize I’d overstayed my welcome.” He stood, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Thanks for the hot chocolate,” he said, turning to leave.
Derek frowned, standing quickly. “Wait, no, that’s not what I meant,” he said quickly, reaching out and grabbing Stiles’ hand to keep him from going.
Stiles stopped in his tracks, half turning to look at Derek. “You…want me to stay?”
Derek’s cheeks turned hot. “Well, yeah. I mean, if you want to.”
Stiles turned fully, his hand still caught in Derek’s, his face just inches away. His cheeks were pink, his lips parted, eyes bright as they looked into Derek’s.
Oh, God. This was quickly turning into an episode of Gossip Girl. Or a porno. And yet…
Derek jerked forward as if pulled by an invisible string, his lips crashing into Stiles’. It would have been funny, were Derek not sure he had just discovered his soul mate. Stiles' lips were still cold from the snow, but Derek's were like fire, and the mix was so perfect a combination that he never wanted to do anything that didn't involve kissing Stiles. His hands were hesitant to reach up and touch Stiles' neck, resting just below his racing pulse.
After a moment Derek was sure lasted a lifetime, he pulled away, watching Stiles’ face for a reaction. A slow smile formed on his lips - his soft, absolutely perfect lips. He was quiet for a minute. “Derek?” he said finally, his voice low and rough.
Derek found he had trouble answering past the lump in his throat. "Yeah?" came the eloquent reply.
"…Can we finish the movie?"
Derek laughed breathlessly, still in awe of the last minute of his life. “Sure, Stiles. Whatever you want.”
They sat, and things were as they were before The Kiss.
Almost.
They sat so close they could feel the heat radiating off each other, their fingers laced together, Derek’s thumb smoothing circles onto the back of Stiles’ hand, eyes flickering back and forth from the screen to each other (mostly each other). Derek's eyes traced every inch of Stiles' skin, following his sharp jawline down to the gentle curve of his collarbone disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. It was...well, not to sound cheesy, but it was perfect.
And God, Derek was glad he found that boy in the snow.