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It started like a lot of things did that involved Stiles - unexpectedly.
“Is that… did you just give me a Weasley sweater?” Stiles asked, face going through confusing acrobatics as he gaped at the leather jacket.
Derek frowned - well, frowned more than usual - and tried not to look as offended as he was. His jackets were way cooler than a badly knit garish sweater. But before he could say anything, Stiles was barreling into him for a hug and then away again to try the jacket on and shove his phone into one of the inside pockets. He promptly took the phone right back out, yelling into it after Erica picked up with a yawn.
“Derek gave me a Weasley sweater!”
Boyd and Isaac rolled their eyes along with Derek, but it was painfully obvious how happy they all were.
—
The next time it happened, it was just an offhand comment, nothing of note. It had been about a week since he’d gotten Stiles the jacket, and Stiles had picked up a habit of appearing at all hours in the loudest way possible.
“For fucks sake, can you use the front door? Just once?” Derek half yelled, wincing as the back door fell shut with a slam. It was literally impossible to close it quietly, which was great when there were villains trying to sneak in but was annoying the rest of the time.
“But Derek.” Stiles sing songed, dumping the grocery bags full of junk food onto the counter. “You can slytherin my back door anytime you want.”
“Oh my God.” Derek groaned, just barely stopping himself from slamming his head into the wall. Last time he’d done that he’d broken through to the other side and accidentally saw Isaac participating in some personal time.
“Merlin.” Stiles corrected cheerfully. “I’ve got a coupon for that pizza place on fifth avenue, what do you want on your’s?”
—
Derek came into his room to see Stiles facedown on his bed, getting blood and mud all over the sheets.
“Hufflepuff all you want big bad wolf, I am not leaving until I get at least four hours of sleep.” Stiles muttered, and Derek just sighed.
By the time he crossed the room to ease Stiles out of his shoes and jacket, the teenager was snoring and mumbling something about embalming fluids.
—
When Stiles woke up, he was alone. He’d been expecting to see, at the very least, Derek glaring at him from the chair - though to be honest he couldn’t think of a time Derek had willingly sat in his presence, almost like he knew that he was going to have to slam Stiles up against a wall at any given moment - but the room was empty.
He rubbed his eyes, checking the time. Only seven, he had plenty of time before curfew. Stiles stumbled out of Derek’s room, waiting to be mauled by Isaac asking for help with his econ or Boyd for english or Erica for chemistry.
Except -
There was no one here.
Which was wrong, because there was always someone at Derek’s. More often than not not actually Derek himself, but Isaac lived here too and Boyd and Erica practically lived there.
And that’s when he noticed the keys to his jeep were missing.
—
“No note, no keys, you could have-”
“Stiles.” Derek said, popping his shoulder back in and okay that was a sound that Stiles could have happily lived without ever hearing. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Where were you?” Stiles whined, inspecting Isaac first - minor wounds, they were already mostly just pink lines - then Erica - she had a bit of a limp but half an hour and she’d be good - and finally Boyd. Who was perfectly fine, of course, and very gently pushed Stiles away from him as he headed for the fridge.
“Just leave it, Stiles.” Erica said softly, but Stiles ignored her and went over to Derek, gnawing anxiously on his lip.
“I’m serious, you guys can’t keep disappearing on me and I know that I tend to follow you when you tell me where you’re going and figure it out when you tell me why you’re going-”
“Stop.” Derek said.
“-and sure so maybe I’m less durable than you guys but I don’t get kidnapped nearly as often. Did Scott get to go? Because don’t get me wrong I love him but he’s the stupidest stupid to ever st-”
“Stiles.”
“-upid, and his sixth sense ain’t that great. Mine, mine is off the charts I always called it early. Well, except for you, I thought you murdered people but in my defense you have murdered people just not those, uh, specific-”
“STILES.” and oh, wow, so that’s what a roar tasted like.
Stiles wiped the spit off his face and tried not to look too turned on/traumatized.
“Everyone, out.” Derek said, pointing to the door. The others grabbed their snacks and a couple two liters of pop before darting outside. Stiles tried to follow them, but a hand grabbed him around the back of the neck and dragged him back.
Stiles turned around, smiling weakly.
“You talk too much.” Derek growled, and it might have been sexy from someone else (from Derek it was ultra sexy) but Derek just managed to make Stiles cower (and that he was half hard in his boxer shorts was no one else’s concern).
“I’ve always prized myself on my ability to turn a phr-mmf.”
Of course, that wasn’t the way he’d meant to finish that sentence. He’d meant to quote Dumbledore, but it was rather difficult to quote anyone when Derek friggin Hale was kissing you.
After a few moments in which Stiles was pretty sure his heart didn’t beat, Derek pulled back to stare at him, just a bit less glare-y than usual.
“I uh.” Stiles licked his lips - the lips Derek Hale had kissed, holy shit - as Derek looked less and less sure of himself. “You’re gonna, that’s a thing that we’re doing now right, because I’d like to do it again, like soon, right now ac-”
“Stiles.”
“Yes?” Stiles squeaked (very manfully).
“Shut up.”
And because Stiles never was good with following orders, Derek had to kiss him to make him stop.
And then a couple more times.