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The thing is, Derek never liked places that were busy, places like malls or stations or airports. He never liked how close other people had to be to him in those places, how cramped the space was, how little space he had to breathe. How hard it would be to get away from somewhere like that in case of an emergency.
It didn't get any better even after he found a little more balance to his life once he stopped feeling on edge all the time. Whenever there were more than ten to fifteen people, he felt like he needed to get away.
And yet here he is, in the middle of the San Francisco airport's arrivals area, surrounded by people from all sides, all waiting for the flight from the east coast that's bringing people home for the holidays. Several flights, really -- there's one from New York that is marked as having landed some time ago, another one from somewhere due to land soon, and the one he's been watching the status of for the past half hour. The expected landing time isn’t what he knows it should have been, the flight is delayed by an hour, which means that Derek got to spend more time in here than he planned to. In a crowd. With people who are impatient and antsy, all of them eager to get out and go home.
He's about to give up and head to his car -- he can always text Stiles to find him or to let him know when he's got his luggage and is on the way out -- when the sign on the board notifies him that the flight has landed. His car is far enough away to make the trip to and from it implausible and a text message now would just get him extra pouting and maybe complaining.
I haven't seen you in months, he can almost hear Stiles say. And you don't even bother meeting me at arrivals?
The truth is that Derek has missed Stiles more than he's willing to admit. Ever since the end of the war with the hunters, since Stiles and he got away from under the FBI's nose in the raid before the war broke out fully in Beacon Hills, they've been dancing around each other. With anyone else, Derek would feel like he's at the receiving end of a game. But this is Stiles and he doesn't do games, not with people he cares about. Which Derek hopes he's become. After all, Stiles is someone whom Derek cares about a lot and he'd like for it to be a mutual feeling.
Which is why he's here, holding the stupid little sign that says "Agent Stilinski" that Stiles insisted on. Not that Stiles is already an agent. He's still in training, but apparently that's enough. Derek wan’t protesting too much when Stiles first mentioned how he would like Derek to welcome him home.
There's a new crowd of people in the lobby some time later -- Derek's not sure how long he spent thinking about Stiles -- as people rush out from the arrivals gate and towards those waiting for them. There are kisses, hugs, friendly pats on the shoulders, several other greetings going on around him and he trains his eyes on the gate, then glances at one of the suitcases nearby. It does have a Washington DC airport tag, so Derek looks quickly back to the gate and searches the faces for the one he knows well. He's a little lost for a moment, but then someone collides right into him and wraps an arm around his shoulders.
His first reaction is to growl unhappily. He can't smell much, not with this many people in such a small space, so he doesn't know immediately that it's someone he knows. Normally, he can pick the scents out of a mix of several, especially Stiles's. But not now, not today, not here. It takes him turning around to the person who has the audacity to touch him like this to find that it's the one person who can.
"Stiles," Derek grumbles, knowing that he'll barely be heard.
"Aw, hey, you did make the sign," Stiles says with a grin after a glance down at Derek's hands and the sign in them.
"Not that there was much point" Derek tells him.
"Well, there could've been," Stiles protests, his arm off Derek's shoulder.
"Can we get out of here?" Derek asks, not up for having a futile conversation about something they already talked about ad nauseam when Stiles was talking him into making the sign to begin with. "There are too many--"
"People," Stiles finishes. "I know."
He doesn't move though, not even when Derek turns towards the exit pointedly.
"Can I just," Stiles starts and his head is tilted to the side like he's debating something. "I wanna try something.."
"O-kay," Derek says with hesitation. "Nothing illegal, I hope."
Stiles chuckles.
"No," he says. "There's just something I wanted to try for a while, but I never had the chance. Mostly for the lack of someone to do it with."
Derek looks at him with suspicion, having no idea where Stiles's mind is going. Not that that is a surprise.
"I mean, of course only if you're up for it," Stiles says, this time with obvious hesitation.
"I'm not catching you if you run and jump in my arms,” Derek says in a flat tone.
Stiles chuckles.
"Well, there goes that daydream," he says. "Guess that's something we'll have to build up to."
Derek narrows his eyes and internally swears to himself to never cave to something that ostentatious. Not even to satisfy Stiles's curiosity or fulfill his wishes. Regardless of how much it would make Stiles smile.
"Let's try something a little less dramatic," Stiles says then.
He lifts a hand to Derek's cheek and the heat of his palm feels like fire against Derek's skin. Not in a bad way, not like other memories of fire that Derek has. It's the kind of warm that feels like home. Then he steps closer, almost close enough to step on Derek's toes.
"Is this okay?" Stiles asks quietly, leaning even closer.
Derek glances down at Stiles's lips just in time to watch Stiles's tongue slip out and slide over them. Without wanting to, Derek does the same, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He doesn't trust himself to speak so he just nods, the tiniest fraction of a head movement that he knows will be enough. Stiles's breath catches and then he's tilting his head and closing the gap between their lips, presses his own against Derek's in the gentlest of kisses. His bag drops to the floor with a thud and Derek can feel a hand on his hip, thumb tugging on the belt loop as it tucks in.
it doesn't last nearly long enough, as far as Derek is concerned. So when Stiles starts pulling away, Derek wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him back in, returning and deepening the kiss this time. This close, he can smell the scent that's so familiar despite being mixed with the unmistakable odor of the plane and faint traces of everyone else who was near Stiles during the flight. He can taste the peanuts that Stiles must have been eating on the way and the coffee he was drinking. For a while, the entire world around them vanishes, the crowd doesn't matter, and Derek can think of nothing else but Stiles.
They come up for air eventually and Stiles looks at him with a dazed expression and a goofy smile.
"So, that was a success," he tells Derek, his hand still on Derek's jaw, thumb absent-mindedly rubbing against his cheek.
Derek closes his eyes and then opens them again just to reassure himself that he isn't dreaming. Then he leans in, brushes his lips against Stiles's one more time and smiles as he pulls away.
"Yeah, we can do this one again," he says.
Then he lifts his hand to his cheek, pulls Stiles's fingers away and links them with his own.
"You're carrying your own bag though," he tells Stiles, giving the bag a pointed look.
"Oh fine," Stiles says, trying to look put out.
He's still smiling as he bends down to grab the bag and straightens out, then looks at the exit.
"Let's get out of here," he says, then pauses and looks at Derek with a questioning expression. "I hope the again about the kissing didn't just mean airport lobbies though."
"We'll see," Derek tells him.
He doesn't let Stiles react. Instead, he tugs on his hand and pulls him through the slowly thinning crowd towards the parking lot.