Chapter Text
I
The first time the pack had gotten drunk together was the day of high school graduation. They had literally survived the Beacon Hills High School and all of the death traps it entailed. Stiles was almost surprised there wasn't a Buffy-like show down during the ceremony. Either way, he was about eighty-seven percent sure that the Beacon Hills mayor was a totally normal, non-supernatural guy.
The pack had convened at Derek’s apartment to celebrate their accomplishments. Lydia quite a bit more than others, but Stiles was just happy that if someone beat him for valedictorian, it was her. At first, Derek hadn’t been remotely thrilled with the idea, but he had decided in the end that if his pack was going to do it anyways he might as well monitor them and their monkshood intake.
They had all started off pretty heavily while using various drinking games as fuel for their fire. It had only taken two games in before Derek was finally convinced to join. From then on, the night was full of teasing, stories, laughter, and quite a bit of snark.
After an obnoxious game of Waterfall, Stiles had taken it upon himself to grab the next few rounds of alcohol, needing to stretch his legs and calm down a rising interest in Derek’s relaxed visage. While he was counting out the possible needed drinks, Derek had come into the kitchen as well.
Not one to beg off from help in this situation, Stiles looked to him with a smile. “Oh, awesome. I was just about to call for help.” Stiles started to grab beers from the fridge. “Can you grab the…” Stiles trailed off before belatedly jumping away from Derek who had just leaned his head in the crook of Stiles neck and shoulder. “Woah, warn a guy next time,” Stiles said laughing. He looked to Derek who was holding open the fridge. Derek just kept the dazed and contented smile that he had acquired about two hours ago. “I know you guys are tactile and all that, but sometimes-“
Derek’s hand was placed on Stiles’ hip as he went to lean around him to grab more beer out of the fridge. “…s-sometimes…” Stiles could feel Derek along his side as he shuffled around.
Once enough beer was out of the fridge, Derek stood up straight, his hand still on Stiles’ hip, his front close enough to Stiles’ back for him to feel the heat. Stiles’ breath stuttered a bit as he felt Derek’s nose move slowly and lightly up the back of his neck. Derek pressed a light kiss right under the hairline there, and Stiles held his breath as his stomach lurched.
Then, Derek wasn’t touching him, and Stiles couldn’t feel his heat. He could only hear the door of the kitchen leading to the living-room open and close. Stiles brought a shaking hand up to cover his mouth in surprise and felt the heat in his cheeks. He took deep breaths to calm himself before grabbing the rest of the pack’s drinks and heading out to them.
During the next few games and the inevitable wind down, Stiles awareness of Derek had reached new heights. Stiles now noticed the higher intensity in his eyes when their eyes met, or when Derek’s lingered. He noticed how Derek’s smile was actually more focussed on Stiles’ gaming experience than the others’. Stiles began to obsess with the possibility that the content smile towards himself was mirror-like of how he would smile at Derek when he wasn’t looking.
The real kicker, though, was after everyone woke up the day after in varying degrees of way too perky or feeling the world was ending, Stiles had to wonder if it was all an alcohol induced dream as Derek kept him at arms length while they cooked breakfast for the others together.