Work Text:
Stiles is very surprised to open the front door to find Derek standing on his doorstep. He ignores the fact that Derek is also soaking wet and dripping (one thing at a time) and focuses on the door thing.
"I didn't know you knew how to use doors," he says, after a few seconds of silence. "Or doorbells."
Derek just stands there, quietly dripping. He's glaring at Stiles, but Stiles is so used to that by this point that it rarely has any effect on him anymore. When Derek continues to not say anything, Stiles moves aside and lets him into the house.
And now Derek is dripping water (or, at least, Stiles hopes that's what it is) inside the house on the mat just inside the door. Derek still isn't saying anything. What he does do is strip off his Henley and wring it out over the floor, just in front of the mat. Derek keeps his gaze on Stiles' face, but Stiles looks away once toward the puddle forming on the floor.
Once it seems that he's wrung all he can from the shirt, Derek lets it fall. It hits the floor with a loud 'splat', splashing in the puddle.
"Alright then," Stiles says. "Why are you wet?"
"Boyfriend's welcome," Derek grunts. Stiles peers out the nearest window, to where his father is standing in the driveway hosing down the cruiser.
"Oh my god, he's ridiculous," Stiles says. He shoos Derek off in the vague direction of the bathroom and goes outside to have a word with his father.