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Stiles' life wasn't always like this, fighting evil werewolves and weird witch things and various other supernatural phenomena. He used to be a regular teenager - you know, sneaking out, watching porn, fantasizing about all the sex he would have one day. It wasn't the best life or the most exciting, but it was his. This thing they're all doing now, solving werewolf moral dilemmas and, God, even just using the word 'werewolf' in a sentence? He didn't ask for it. So sue him if he wants to unwind every once in a while.
Or maybe a little more than that. Say, every couple days. Or every day. Or more than once every day.
And maybe 'unwind' isn't exactly the right word for this - whatever 'this' is. Because last he checked, the word 'unwind' meant to relax, not to have wall-slamming sex every time he finds himself alone with Derek.
It started around the time Derek was getting over his English teacher turning out to be a psycho bitch who made sacrifices in her spare time. Derek was a little torn-up, moaning and groaning about how everything was his fault and God trouble just follows me everywhere doesn't it and what is this some sort of Hale family curse. To be honest, Stiles was getting a little tired of hearing it. So when Derek was in his room one day, sitting on the window sill and bitching about his lot in life, Stiles just fucking kissed him.
Alright, so maybe it wasn't the best idea, but it got the reaction Stiles was hoping for: stunned silence. And then the reaction Stiles wasn't expecting but definitely appreciated - Derek grabbed his t-shirt and pulled him forward, kissing him like he'd been wanting to do it for years.
And Stiles had stepped back and stared at Derek with wide eyes and said, "What the hell was that?"
Derek bit his lip like he was thinking it over, eyes locked on Stiles in a permanent brood, and finally he had said, "Don't tell anyone," before pushing Stiles backward onto his bed and fucking his brains out.
It wasn't the sex life he'd imagined, but it was ten times better.
The only problem is the secrecy. They'd made a deal to pretend like nothing had changed between them, to not tell anyone, and then to fuck anywhere and any time they had even a little bit of privacy. They'd been keeping this up for a couple of months, but as the "just a one-time thing" turned into "maybe once a month" and then "alright but I swear no more than three times a week", Stiles was beginning to think that they should probably talk about this.
It could be argued that the timing is pretty terrible, but Stiles figured better late than never.
"Derek," he breathes, trying to ignore the feeling of Derek's lips sucking at a spot along his neck. "Derek, I think we - Jesus, would you hold on just a fucking second?"
Derek lifts his head to meet Stiles' eyes, not moving his hands from where they were nearly clawing Stiles' back. "What?"
Stiles gulps, trying to arrange the flurry of thoughts in his head into something semi-coherent. "Uh - you know, I just think we need to - Lydia says we need to define the relationship," he blurts out.
It takes Derek a moment to process this, and he steps back completely to look at Stiles. Past the hurt expression in his eyes, Stiles misses the warmth of his body and wishes he just hadn't opened his big fat mouth. "You told Lydia?"
"No, no!" Stiles says defensively. "I didn't tell her! She just sort of...knew. Said we were being a little obvious about it. I mean, her exact words were that she could smell the hormones on me every time you walked into the room, but I don't think she can actually - "
"Stiles!" Derek hisses. He would be shouting if not for the fact that they were in a not-so-soundproof bathroom stall of a bar Danny dragged them to. "We had a deal! We weren't going to tell anyone!"
"I know that, you think I don't know that?" Stiles says indignantly, frowning at Derek.
Derek sighs, rubbing his temple and scrunching his nose in a way that is so goddamn cute Stiles wants to kiss him again. "When did you talk to her about this?" he asks finally.
Stiles shrugs. "A couple nights ago. You were leaving, and then Lydia showed up, and the first thing out of her mouth is 'Why didn't you tell me you were fucking Sourwolf?' It was very confusing." He runs a hand through his hair. "So we talked about it, and she agreed not to say anything, but she said we need to define the relationship."
Derek arches an eyebrow. "Define the relationship?" he repeats, like Stiles just told him he needs to drink lizard piss.
"Well, yeah," Stiles says with a frown. "Figure out what the hell 'this' is."
"I thought we knew what this was."
"Then what is it, Derek?" Stiles crosses his arms, waiting for an answer. "Please, enlighten me."
Derek pauses, looking down at the floor for a moment. "I don't know. I'm horny, you're horny..." He shrugs. "I thought that was enough."
"Sometimes it is," Stiles says. "It's just - you know, I wouldn't mind having something a little more than an outlet for my sexual desires."
Derek looks up at him, his face showing no emotion. "You want something more?"
Stiles gulps, fearing he crossed a line. He should have just kept his mouth shut, been thankful that Derek took any interest in him at all. Stupid Lydia.
And then Derek leans forward and kisses Stiles. It's nothing they haven't done before, but somehow, it's different. Instead of the rough kisses Stiles is used to, this one's soft and gentle and leaves him breathless putty in Derek's hands.
"What - ?"
"I was thinking the same thing," Derek says softly, so close he's breathing the words into Stiles' ear.
Stiles laughs a little. "Really?"
Derek nods, looking more open and vulnerable than Stiles has ever seen him. It's gone in a second, replaced with the look of an alpha scrabbling desperately for his lost power. "But I swear to God, Stiles, if you tell anyone - I mean, it would just be - do you know how hard Scott would laugh at me if he knew - "
Stiles laughs, stopping him by dragging him into a long kiss. "Don't worry, Softywolf, your secret's safe with me."
Derek scowls. "God, that nickname's even worse than the first."
"Well, looks like you're stuck with it," Stiles says with a grin. "And stuck with me."
"Good thing you're pretty," Derek says with a smile, pressing so close Stiles' back is against the wall, his shirt riding up and Derek's fingers blazing trails along his skin.
Maybe Lydia had the right idea with this whole 'define the relationship' thing.