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“This is such a bad idea,” Stiles whines declares while leaning against the counter, his eyes practically pleading with him to not make him go through with this disastrous idea.
Derek, the horrible traitor of a boyfriend, chuckles and continues to dig his debit card out of his wallet and hands it over. In the next moment an aluminum baseball bat and helmet are thrust into his hands from one of the workers behind the counter. Stiles knows he makes the worst pissy face but gives him credit for not trying to give them back or worse drop them.
A warm hand cuffs the back of his neck and Stiles feels himself instantaneously heat up when Derek leans in and brushes their lips together in a barely there kiss. It makes his pulse jump and puts a stop to his pouting.
“Come on it’ll be fun,” Derek promises taking Stiles’ hand and laces their fingers together. He levels a skeptical look at him, which goes ignored, but allows himself to be tugged forward to his doom.
The batting cages loom ominously before him, but to Derek they’re just another part of life. They go to the last stall and Stiles is immensely grateful now that there’s a lesser chance of a stray ball maiming another patron and him getting sued and then his dad going bankrupt bailing his ass out of trouble because he is just a lowly college student.
A hand waving in from of his face snaps him out his trance. He goes cross-eyed momentarily before he sees Derek grinning at him completely unaware of the inner turmoil of Stiles thoughts.
Derek’s already geared up, bat in hand and nods back towards the chain length gate. “I’ll go in first and take a few swings and then we’ll get started with you. Is that okay?” He suddenly looks guilty for wanting to go first.
Stiles shakes his head quickly and musters up the brightest most sincere smile he can manage. “By all means be my guest! I’ll be fine watching right now.” It isn’t even a lie because while he would most definitely love having Derek’s hands on him he’d rather be without the threat of speeding balls flying at his person. What can he say; he has a low pain tolerance and bruises like a peach.
With a sloppy over exaggerated kiss to the cheek Stiles sends him into the cages, leaving him to watch as much as his little heart desires.
Within moments Derek has stepped up to the plate and taken a perfect stance as the pitching machine shoots off the first ball. Stiles watches, mesmerized, as Derek swings and the bat come in contact with the ball with crack that echoes through the cages.
It happens again and again, each swing getting hard and harder but looks just as effortless to Stiles. In truth he knows little about baseball, doesn’t know the proper technique or the proper stance you’re supposed to take, nothing really aside from that it’s supposedly America’s favorite pastime and you hit the ball with the stick and run. It’s actually kind of ironic how he ended up dating one of the top, if not the best, players of his college baseball team.
But watching Derek, how the lines of his back and muscles shift with each movement and how at peace he looks with the bat gripped in his hands, it’s almost like Stiles is watching an intricate dance with how the man can make taking a swing look downright elegant. He feels like he doesn’t have to know a damn thing about the sport when he’s with Derek, and really that’s how it’s been through their whole relationship not matter how new it is to them. As long as Stiles shows up to his games and supports him and the team then it seems like Derek’s happy as a clam and really, he’d do anything to make sure he’s always happy.
Before too long Derek stops swinging and turns to face Stiles, his face absolutely luminous with the widest smile on his face that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle with the hint of crow’s feet that he’ll without a doubt develop more later in life, and his chest seizes with the affection that surges up in him. It’s ridiculous that just a smile directed at him could make him feel like he’s flying, but it does.
“You ready to give it a try?” Derek asks as he steps out of the cages and leans against his bat, giving him a devilish smile. All warm and fuzzy feelings he had go flying out the metaphorical window because in that moment Stiles is pretty sure is boyfriend is Satan and that the helmet is currently covering up his little horns.
He takes a step back and gulps, shaking his head. “Dude, no way I’ll pay you back for paying my way and stuff but I don’t think I can.”
It earns him a huff of exasperation and then his wrist has a warm rough hand wrapped around it and his being tugged into the steel trap of doom.
“Stiles you own a bat you know how to use it,” Derek says through a laugh once he’s parked him on the scuffed up plate.
Stiles can’t help but snort and cross his arms over his chest, but quickly lets them fall to his sides when the bat gets tangled up. “Of course I do, for protection.”
“If you’re using a bat for protection then you’re doing it wrong.”
Stiles whirls around and looks up at Derek, his jaw dropping and heat blooming when he sees the absolutely mischievous grin plastered on his stupid adorable stubbled face. He can’t even form words and decided to just escape the situation and starts to walk back towards the gate because now he for sure can’t concentrate. Except Derek had other plans and before he’s even two feet away he’s looping a finger through Stiles belt loop and hauls him back in front of him, settling his hands onto his hips to ensure he won’t be able to get away.
“Uhh,” Stiles bleats lamely, all coherent thought melting out of his ears. His back is flush against Derek’s strong solid front and it just does thing to him, especially when the fingers splayed on his hips flex and manhandle him into a proper stance, and why hell-o new kink he didn’t realize he had.
When the hands on his hips slowly slid upwards, grazing against his sides and back, up to his shoulder blades and down his arms until his hands shadow stiles he’s sure that he’s going to self-combust at any moment.
A prickly chin rubs against the nape of his neck, right below the helmet and Stiles has a fully body shudder that he knows Derek can feel with how close they are to each other. The soft chuckle lets him know that it hadn’t gone unnoticed.
Derek manipulates his limbs to where they’re both holding the bat and carefully moves him so they’re doing a few practice swings before the actual ball is brought into the equation.
“It’s really not all that hard,” Derek murmurs, his hot breath puffing against the shell of his ear like he doesn’t know that if he keeps doing that Stiles is going to pop an awkward boner and it’ll be all his fault.
Stiles clears his throat and turns his head to he can look at him, feeling shy and hot all over but grins anyway when he asks, “Are you going to tell me to keep my eye on the ball?” Derek rolls his eyes and doesn’t humor him with an answer, so they fall into silence and continue to do their mock swings, letting Stiles get used to the feel of it because while yes he does own a bat as his form of pertection that doesn’t mean he’s actually taken a swing with the thing.
The first ball that whizzes passed them makes him yelp and take a stumble back against Derek, but the man has a solid grip on him and they don’t go far. He glares ahead at the little contraption that will without a doubt send more flying out to them because he was so not ready for that first one.
Or the second.
Or third.
It’s pretty bad but Derek doesn’t say anything and really that makes Stiles feel better. So this time he takes a deep breath, makes sure his stance mirrors Derek’s behind him and makes sure his hold on the bat isn’t too tight or loose. When Derek tenses up behind him he knows it’s about to happen, followed by the whoosh of the ball leaving the tube. A heartbeat of hesitancy and Stile pulls back and swings.
The resonating crack of the ball against the bat makes Stiles eyes shoot open, making him realize for the first time that he didn’t realize he’d even shut them. So much for keeping your eye on the ball.
“Did I just..” He trails off, turning to look at Derek who is looking at him with the fondest expression he’s ever seen. It’s a mid of pride and adoration with the underlying edge that screams he’s going to get the best lay ever if he keeps playing his cards right.
Stiles is so wrapped up, caught in the depths of those big hazel eyes and so sure of himself that Derek’s going to kiss him right then and there that he belatedly hears the whoosh of another ball coming at him.
This time instead of connecting with his bat it connects with his shoulder and sends white hot pain shooting through him that Stiles swears he sees stars.
It isn’t until hours later when they’ve emerged from the emergency room, Stiles arm in a sling and a guilty Derek helping into the car that he can admit to himself overall it wasn’t the worst date that they could have had.
Though he’s also pretty sure that the painkiller the hospital hopped him up on sometimes during his visit has made it impossible to have a bad time even if he tried.
When the two of them are carefully curled up in Derek’s bed in his dorm though, his roommate miraculously gone for the evening, and painkillers wearing off can he painkillers have actually worn off, does he feel like he had a good time. Deep down he knows he did have a good time, because he was with Derek.
Smiling to himself he turns in Derek’s hold and presses a kiss to the underside of his chin.
“What was that for?”
Stiles shrugs and settles against Derek’s chest, his strong heartbeat thrumming out a soft lullaby against his ear. “Just because I had a really good day.”
There’s no reply to that but it doesn’t bother him because with the other man holding him close as they fall asleep together, he doesn’t need a reply.