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Derek writhed his hands together behind his back. Stiles was making Pop Tarts of all things, in his plaid pyjama pants, hair a mess and those worry lined that had formed in the shit-years of his high school days gone hidden by a mask of relaxation. He looked happy and comfy and at home.
"Hey lurker." Stiles grinned, placing one raspberry poptart on his plate and sliding another towards the breakfast bar. "Wanna join me?"
"Are we sharing Pop Tarts now?" Derek asked.
"Dude, we shared saliva. We're practically married." Stiles laughed, sitting down opposite him.
"Is that what it's going to take to get you to share pop tarts? Marriage." Derek quirked a eyebrow, as he took another bite.
"Yes, Derek. I am no common pop tart whore. Gotta put a ring on it before you split a pop tart with it." He smirked, fiddling with the piece of Pop Tart in his hand.
"That may be the worst rhyming I've ever heard." Derek shook his head laughing, sliding out of his seat to pour himself and Stiles some orange juice.
"Oh shut up it's nine o'clock, you know I can't rhyme before ten." Stiles laughed, taking the orange juice from Derek and sipping it.
"Stiles Stilinski and his scheduled rhyming powers."
"Fuck you man." Stiles fell quiet. "So I was thinking..."
"Don't hurt yourself." Derek smirked, picking a piece of pop tart off and popping it in his mouth.
"F U dude." Stiles snarked.
"Don't call me dude."
"Dude."
"Stiles."
"If I keep pissing you off can I kiss you again."
"What?"
"I mean what's the terms and agreements to this whole kissing thing?"
"Actually I wanted to talk to you about-" Derek began but Stiles cut him off.
"Cause I really want to do it again."
"Stiles."
"Like lots."
"Stiles."
"Many many times."
"Stiles."
"Several times."
"Stiles."
"In a row."
"Stiles."
"In several different positions."
"Jesus stiles. Shut up." Derek snapped and Stiles fell silent, a small pout forming on his annoyingly perfect lips. "I'm trying to ask you out, Stiles." Stiles' jaw slacked, eyes wide. He was silent for a good while.
"Like on a date?"
"Yes. On a date."
"With you?"
"Yes."
"Together?"
"Yes stiles."
"In a more than friends way."
"Oh Jesus Christ why do I like you?" Derek shook his head and let his head fall into his hands.
"Yes."
"What?"
"Yes. Date me."
"That's the purpose of asking you out stiles."
"I'm dense leave me be. So my answer is yes. Date me oh Alpha." Stiles bellowed.
"What did I do?" Derek groaned, letting his head fall flat on to the table.
"What did you do?!?" Erica exclaimed, returning to find Stiles and Derek crashed on her couch.
"We've been banished from home." Stiles said, as if it was super obvious why her alpha and their emissary were cuddling on her couch.
"How come?" Erica said, putting down her grocery bags.
"We're on a date." Derek answered this time.
"To my flat?"
"We were in a restaurant." Derek snapped, eyes falling to Stiles in judgement.
"And?" Erica began unloading her bags, starting to wonder when this was her life.
"Stiles set on fire." Derek laughed, as Stiles overlapped him.
"The waiter set me on fire!"
"So now we are stealing your Netflix and I am watching firefly whilst Stiles is napping." Derek explained, finally and knotted his fingers through Stiles slightly chargrilled hair.
"First date and you're already a married couple." Erica shook her head as she opened up the jar of pickles.
"So we'll have to try this date thing again sometime." Stiles said, leaning across the hood of the Camaro. They'd drove over to the Hale House as Erica had banished them after four American Horror Story episodes. His hands were in his pockets and the striped shirt he was wearing pulled tight across his chest. Derek stood from his place on the porch, moving round to get a better view of the soft moonlight across Stiles' face.
Derek got a idea.
"Or we could..." Derek opened the Camaro doors and leant inside to place the keys in ignition. He plugged his phone into the car and hitched up the stereo.
The first few bars of La Vie en Rose began to play softly.
"Can I have this dance?" Derek asked hand out for Stiles.
"Note number one, Derek Hale likes Blues." Stiles laughed and took it, letting his body be pulled close to Derek's. Derek held Stiles hand over his heart. Who knew Derek hale was a big softie.
"La vie en rose?" Stiles smiled, craning his head to look at Derek. "Didn't know you were a Louis Armstrong fan?"
"I was raised on blues, classics like elvis, Louis and etta James. I've always loved this song. It used to be my lullaby, then my song for when I was sad, then it helped me during a full moon and now it helps me to remember them." Derek finished, breath falling off his lips. It felt so easy to talk to Stiles about things that were so hard to just think about.
Stiles was quiet. Swaying against Derek, the dusk breeze whistling through the woods.
"Keep talking. I like your voice." Stiles breathed, lips close to Derek's ears as he moved his feet slightly side to side. Derek gave a low laugh and started again.
"My grandmother used to sing it whilst she cooked. It was hers and my grandfathers wedding song. He never cares much for it, being more a Rock and roll kind of guy. But she loved it. My mom could sing it before she could talk and Laura used to play it to Peter, to try and bring him round. He used to sing it too his kids."
Derek stopped to breathe in Stiles scent.
He smelt like smoke due to having caught fire in the restaurant, but the smell of ginger and orange still lingered underneath.
"I like this." Stiles smiled, moving back to look straight at Derek. "I like you."
"I like you too." Derek grinned, closing the gap between them.
They kissed in the fricking moonlight, slow dancing to La Vie En Rose. Stiles has never been so happy to be so freaking cliche.