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Derek blinked lazily at the clock on Stiles' desk, wishing he could close his eyes and keep dozing, pretend he hadn't seen how late it was getting because that meant putting an end to this. But...an alpha missing out or being late to his own pack meeting would not do. Especially if he popped up around the same time as Stiles, both of them smelling distinctly of each other.
No. This...whatever it was—well, relationship, yes, in a way—it was just theirs for now. Stiles’ and his. They hadn't put a name to it, mostly because Derek feared to bestow a cursed title upon Stiles. Connections like this generally ended badly. But this was something that was just theirs, safe and secure behind four walls, or car doors. For now.
Another minute ticked by, striking Derek's ears, drawing attention to the impatient little black hands, swinging further on and on, tempting Derek to dig his claws into the plastic and tear it apart, as if that would eradicate the concept of time so that he could continue to lie here with Stiles on his shoulder. If that was all his life consisted of from this day forward, Derek wouldn't mind. He'd always seen himself bleeding to death at the hands of an enemy, enduring inexplicable pain but now...
He could spend eternity here in Stiles' room, on his tiny bed, and not be bothered at all, or alternatively, and more realistically, die happy on the spot in a good way.
He was half tempted to go public with their...relationship but it also made the fear of vulnerability stir inside his chest. It was one thing to have Stiles see his cracks and edges: to let him soothe them like balm in privacy, but revealing this thing with Stiles would mean letting the rest of the world know about his weakness. He knew the pack didn't mean him any harm, and yet...
Derek was working on giving the softness inside him space. It was a work in progress.
He sighed, another tick and tock of a minute having gone by, the planned event creeping closer. Stiles snuffled against Derek's shoulder at the sound, rubbing his scent into the worn grey shirt. His arm re-adjusted around Derek's torso.
"If you keep up with that all my shirts are gonna be shoulder free - but only on the right side," Derek said, amused and hell, proud even, at how quickly so many wolf-like behaviors had grown on Stiles; faster than anyone else in the pack, when he wasn't even a wolf. It spoke volumes of Stiles' understanding. Sure, he had been tactile from the start, searching for contact, and Derek had seen the hugs and shoulder pats he shared with his dad but this...it just felt right.
Derek was glad the human's eyes were closed because the smirk he was wearing may have been closer to a smile, and he didn't dare encourage Stiles’ ideas further. If he gave his cheesy thoughts too much room he would ruin their balanced give and take. They both found a necessary challenge in the other. Derek couldn't just surrender.
"You can buy new ones," Stiles mumbled, not caring to lift his head even the slightest bit. "Shit, it's not like you're poor. Don't be stingy. Let a guy enjoy himself."
Derek let out a light snort. "You've enjoyed yourself plenty. It's time we get ready."
Stiles just whined, slightly high pitched and grating, but a wordless communication Derek appreciated, if only for the fact that Stiles didn't necessarily need his words around him anymore. When he didn't want to, which...wasn't very often.
"Come on, let's go," Derek said, giving Stiles' a vigorous little back rub to try and get his system going, after which he managed to pull him up into a sitting position with him.
"This sucks. I'm going to excommunicate from the pack. Both you and me so we never have to deal with any responsibilities ever again," Stiles said, blinking unhappily into the room.
Derek swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, stretching his back. "And then I'll whisk you away and we'll live in a cave like real wolf-men for the rest of our lives," he quipped.
"Exactly!" Stiles exclaimed, a grin splitting his face. "This is why I'm dating you."
"Yeah, yeah. I get it. You only want me because I'm a werewolf." Derek let out a put upon sigh after slipping on his shoes and grabbing his jacket. Stiles joined him then, taking hold of Derek by wrapping his fist in the hem of his shirt.
"Come here, hot wolf-man," Stiles mock-growled, pulling him in. Derek went along easily, lips finding Stiles' blindly and letting himself sink into the warmth. Stiles' hand stroked over his cheek with the tenderness of a sunlit daisy.
God, Derek was a goner.
Derek gently nudged Stiles back, righting his head. Stiles followed his movement with a subtle lick across his lips, pupils all wide and open, as if he had a whole world in there for Derek alone to make his home in. But he couldn't let himself get distracted by Stiles again.
"I'll race you," he blurted out to shake himself out of this delirious high. A challenge: one of the strongest motivators for Stiles. On cue, Derek watched the spark ignite in his eyes.
"I'm listening." Stiles smiled at him defiantly.
"I bet I can make it home, shower and be ready before you are."
"On foot? No way! I'm so going to win this."
"Oh yeah?"
"You're a goner, Hale." Stiles was right about that on one count.
Derek met his gaze with equal glee. He held the moment just for a second longer, fingertips brushing against Stiles' nape. Stiles' pulse jumped beneath his thumb and Derek couldn't put the feelings in his chest into words, nor actions. The most he was capable of was resting his forehead against Stiles', just breathing him in.
Resisting the tangible temptation to give in to Stiles once more, Derek merely parted his lips to whisper, "Go!"
He ripped himself from the human and fled, holding fast to his next objective.
"Hey!" Stiles objected after a heartbeat, but Derek was already out the window.
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Stiles screeched into the parking lot, foot on the break and hands pulling the steering wheel for a sharp left. He skidded to a halt next to the familiar figures at the entrance to Derek’s building - he still couldn’t believe his boyfriend had bought a whole building just to maintain his social isolation. Then again, having to listen to your neighbors do literally everything couldn’t be great. It would drive anyone insane. Stiles yanked the emergency break as he parked and left the car running, jumping out in one smooth move.
Isaac could shut it, he was totally smooth.
“You asshole!” Stiles ranted, pointing at Derek in frustration. “You cheated.”
Derek did nothing but smile smugly, eyebrows openly laughing at Stiles.
“I don’t cheat,” he declared, arms crossing over his chest, now wearing a nice bright blue shirt. There was a light, earthy cologne crawling up Stiles' nose as he stood in front of this man of brawn. Stiles knew intimately how solid and strong Derek was beneath that sturdy dark blue top but instead of indulging said train of thought he had to expel it. The pack was probably used to his hormonal responses to Derek but he was supposed to be growing out of that phase.
Thank goodness for strong deodorant, Stiles thought,watching Derek's nostrils flare. He breathed in relief at the small nod that deemed him clean enough. Any lingering scents of each other scrubbed away, and a change of clothes. Dating a werewolf on the down low among other werewolves was a pain in the ass. Especially when assholes like Jackson would sneer and complain about the "ghastly stink" of artificial scents only when it came to Stiles. Naturally, he didn’t dare talk smack about Derek in his presence.
"There's no way. You absolutely cheated," Stiles insisted and jabbed at those abs, just under Derek's elbow, where he knew he was ticklish. Then he bit his tongue lest he let anything incriminating slip and whirled around, grinning to himself at the quiet wheeze behind him.
"You done?” Lydia asked with an audible eye roll. How was it that all of Stiles’ favorite people had perfected that movement?
“Yup!” Stiles declared, making a beeline for Erica to hook his arm into hers. Erica was bound to try to interrogate him about what kind of cheating Derek had done but Stiles was a sheriff’s son, and he had all his evasive techniques down. Of course, Erica had her own theories about him and the alpha, which may or may not have resulted in him confessing to her about his crush. Despite not being able to tell her about any of the developments, he found comfort in the fact that he could be sure she was rooting for them. “C’mon, bestie. Let’s go!”
Stiles didn’t miss the grin Erica sent Derek’s way before they turned and headed up into the loft, making a pit stop at the still running Jeep. The rest of the pack slowly shuffled after them.
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Somehow... no matter how organized Derek tried to be before a pack meeting or how sternly he glared and attempted to keep the pack in line, pack meetings always resulted in chaos and headaches. Right now, there was a discussion going on about cats and full moons that weren’t based on any scientific (or supernatural) evidence and Derek couldn't even recall when the conversation shifted.
Even Stiles was getting tired at this point, rubbing his forehead vigorously as he hung over the laptop. Derek hadn't heard him typing for the past 15 minutes and it hadn’t been long after that Stiles had stopped sending sullen looks his way and started stubbornly picking at the permanent stain on the table.
"Okay, let's wrap this up and get something to eat before I start tearing out throats," Derek sighed.
Stiles' laptop snapped shut before Derek finished the sentence.
Boyd smirked. "We haven't heard that one in a while," he commented.
"So, we're done, right?" Lydia declared, already packing up her things and slipping her shoes back on.
"We're done when I say I'm done," Derek said. "Any other questions left?"
Erica raised her arm from her lounged position.
"Yes."
"Are we done?" she asked, without as much a hint of amusement, and Derek was. Derek was 100 percent done trying to deal with these teenagers.
He gave her a long blank stare. Just to prove how much he meant it, before he turned from where he had been pacing and pointed at Stiles.
"Patty's. You're driving."
Then he marched upstairs to his private bathroom, just to buy himself some alone time, hanging out the tiny window and staring out at the tree tops.
He loved his pack, he did. Sometimes it was all a bit much and he needed to breathe, though. He'd been the same even as a kid.
He waited until everyone had made their way into the stairwell before taking a deep breath and following. A small part of him was hoping Stiles would linger behind so they could have a moment but he quickly buried that thought with logic. They would be heard and how could he even already miss Stiles when they had just spent hours together?
Grabbing his jacket, wallet in the pocket, he pulled the door shut and ambled down the stairs. He didn't bother locking it. There was nothing to protect, and Derek made sure to chase off any stupid teens who wanted to screw around and vandalize the place. Any supernaturals wouldn't be bothered by a lock anyway.
The only exception was, of course, when Stiles was around.
Of course, the kids weren't even close to figuring out a seating order by the time he joined them. What did Derek even expect?
But upon approaching the Jeep, he found one seat occupied. The passenger seat. Derek stopped short.
"Erica." Because of course.
Her curls bounced as the young women turned to look and flash a grin at him.
"Derek, hi! Would you look at that, we're matching," she said, shimmying in her own leather jacket, just as black as his, but newer and shinier. Derek wouldn't really say they matched, because Erica was a fashion statement in herself, a force of her own, and Derek was just…wearing a memento because it was comfortable. Whatever.
Derek crossed his arms.
Stiles came over to his side, leaning on him and in toward Erica. Stiles let his fingers tap lightly against Derek's pec. Thank God Stiles had always been reckless with physical contact and there was no sudden change in intimacy that could cause suspicion. Derek just had to make sure he didn't preen too much.
"Eyebrows basically mirrored, matching, with only a slight degree of tilt, I would say maybe like a good… 19%. And then we have a non-flared nose but alert ears and oh, dare I say… that freshly trimmed stubble really drives the point home,which is…Erica, I think you better move," Stiles warned, voice lifting from dramatic broadcaster to a cartoonist sing-song tune.
Derek chose not to acknowledge Stiles, because encouragement would surely only escalate this situation. Either in the manner of Stiles' antics, or instead with the fondness trying to bloom in Derek's chest.
Erica only proceeded to lean further into her seat, eyes flickering between the two of them with a certain glint.
"And why's that?" she challenged.
"Because I say so," Derek muttered.
"And he's the alpha," Stiles finished for him, straightening with pride.
Erica gazed back between the two of them, lips pursuing with evident consideration of pushing further. Then she sighed.
"You know it's really not fair when you gang up on me," she said, but a smile still snuck its way onto her face. She turned towards the middle console and hiked herself up to clamber into the back. Halfway there, she stuck her hands out and called for Boyd's assistance, who gave a small shake of his head but quickly came to his girlfriend's aid.
Derek bit back a comment while Stiles laughed at his side, and then detached himself from him. Before Stiles left to go grab his own seat, he left a gentle pat on Derek's back.
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Two and a half hours, 12 burgers, 7 large fries (4 regular and 3 curly), 2 cartons of onion rings, some chicken, multiple stacks of pancakes, 4 waffles, 8 milkshakes, and a juicy mixed berry pie later, they were back in the cars, making the 20 minute drive to Beacon Hills. Sure, there were plenty of places to eat in town but after discovering Patty’s diner one early morning while dealing with some kind of manticore-like creature nearby, they had deemed this the best reasonably close diner. Now, it was a regular thing.
Jackson led the way in his Porsche, of course, with Lydia right at his side and Scott and Allison in the back, while Jeep tailed them with Stiles at the wheel. Erica was splayed out in the backseat with her head resting in Boyd’s lap, quietly humming along to the radio. Isaac was smooshed over on the other side and yet still somehow found a way to rest his head on Boyd's shoulder and close his eyes.
Hungers sated, stress digested and drama enacted all through dinner, everything was starting to slowly settle. Even Derek's restless soul found sanctuary in the familiar scents of his pack and the rhythm of Stiles' fingers against the wheel as they corresponded with his heartbeat. Derek allowed himself to find comfort, sinking further into the seat and stretching his arm casually out to rest on the back of Stiles' seat.
He watched Stiles' eyes flicker his way but halt and return to take in the sight in the rear view mirror. A small smile tugged at his lips and Stiles hummed along with Erica as if the swell of affection radiating from him was not at all related to Derek's action.
Derek followed his gaze back out to the street in front before he could get lost in retracing the slope of Stiles' nose and the starry path of moles down his cheek. The Porsche was growing ever smaller, occasionally disappearing from view entirely.
"You're going to lose them," Derek remarked. Not that it really mattered; everything still felt safe enough. As safe as it could, that was.
"If Jackson wants to flash his bougie car as some sort of compensation even though he didn't even buy it himself, he can be my guest. I'm not pushing my darling today," Stiles said, making a show of stroking the wheel. He smirked. "Unless you want to pay for a full on “Pimp My Car” session?"
Derek snorted. "In your dreams."
"One day. Just you wait. You'll see."
"Upgrading anything about this—this—" Derek reconsidered calling Roscoe a piece of crap whenStiles threw him a warning glare, "—hunk of metal…would cost more than buying a brand new SUV, including A/C and all the good stuff."
"You know, if you give me that in cash, I could totally start saving up for that upgrade." Stiles gave him an impish little smile.
"Absolutely not."
"C'mon, Hale. Fork over the cash," Stiles sang, holding up a hand and rubbing his fingers together. "Otherwise I might have to start charging by the mile, along with a service fee."
Which Derek had absolutely offered Stiles before. Well, not payment by the mile but he had happily suggested taking care of all charges for the usage and maintenance of the Jeep. He had repeatedly insisted and it was Stiles who, more often than not, refused.
"I think we might have to switch over to transport by taxi. That'll be cheaper as well as a smoother ride," Derek countered.
"What are you, 50? Have you ever heard of Uber? It's what all the—"
"Eyes on the road, Stiles."
"I am paying attention. Jeez, relax."
"And both hands on the wheel."
"Stop acting like my dad—"
"Oh my God, Stiles. I am not that old. Stop comparing me to your dad, of all people."
"Then stop acting like it. You're out here lecturing me like I don't always get you right where you need to be. With special bodyguard services, if I may add, which you will never get from any carpooling service."
Derek shook his head at the smug smile on his mate's face. There was time for sweet praises to be whispered into burning ears from within warm embraces in bed later. For now, he just preened at the familiarity of the interaction. Nothing like some good old bickering to help digest a feast.
"It's red." Derek pointed out to the street light ahead.
"I have eyes," Stiles said, easing down on the brake a little harder. The Jeep eventually rolled to a stop before the empty intersection, the hanging mist seeping from the tall dark trees radiating a gleaming red.
Derek loved it when the world made it seem like time stood still.
Stiles turned to him.
"Red light," Stiles proclaimed, voice suddenly open and unguarded. It was like the silvery shine to full moon nights when they encased Derek in protection. He reacted to the words on instinct, habit pulling him forward. Derek leaned in without hesitation.
Letting his lips meet Stiles' didn't require any guidance. He'd probably find his way home to Stiles' soft touch blindfolded from the opposite side of the world. Kissing Stiles was sweet like honey and warm like a fireplace in the dead of a Siberian winter.
It wasn't a peck, definitely a longer interaction, but it was still soft and sweet. They were encapsulated in their own little world until they finally parted. Derek found those beautiful amber eyes and smiled.
"Green light," he said softly, having registered the quiet click and the now lightened fog outside.
Stiles breathed out between parted lips, a corner of them hiking up. He was just about to shift the car into motion when—
"What the ever loving fuck was that?!" Erica burst between them with a shout, nails digging into their sleeves. "What? I mean, this! You kissed!"
Stiles brought his foot down on the brake again hard, but he forgot the clutch and killed the engine instantly. He'd let out his own shout that fell quiet as the car came to a rocking stop.
Derek winced at the volume before he could register what was going on and then… froze.
"Erica! What the hell," Stiles breathed out, throwing his hands up to his hair. His discomfort couldn't solely be attributed to the surprise from the backseat, Derek figured, chancing a look over to see the blush climbing up Stiles' face. Derek knew all too well how it started; with the pink gleam budding just beneath his collarbone before it expanded like smattering star dust all the way up his neck that found its heart in his cheeks. Right where Derek found the source of his happiness when they tugged up and bunched around Stiles' smile.
"No." Erica shook her head. "Not me. What is going on right here?" She tugged at their arms. "When did this start? How long has it been going on?"
"And how in hell did you manage to keep this a secret, Stilinski?" Isaac threw in, his head popping up beside the bouncy curls.
Stiles looked over at Derek cautiously. His heart was clearly doing double time and well, so was Derek's. They had always avoided discussing the possibility of an involuntary reveal so, honestly, it served them right. Derek should've known the universe would have a trick up its sleeve as soon as he relaxed.
But…this wasn't necessarily something bad. He was pretty sure that the pack wouldn't mind about this development. Chances were, it would bring them all closer together. Somehow.
Still, doubts remained. Fear crept through him on spindly legs, ready to strike with its black widow fangs at any moment. There was so much that could go wrong. So much-
There was a deep intake of breath from beside him.
"It's not what you think," Stiles said then.
"Oh, so Derek wasn't just shoving his tongue down your throat?" Erica hummed, and she leaned forward to place her chin on Stiles' shoulder.
"There was no tongue involved!" Stiles exclaimed, throwing up an arm.
"There was a kiss though," Boyd intercepted.
Stiles glared at him through the rear view mirror. "You too? Betrayal."
"I am pretty curious about this," he replied, gazing over at Derek as best as he could past Erica's and Isaac's heads.
"Oh my god," Stiles breathed. "It was just…a game! It was—it was just a game."
"A game?" Erica had nearly perfected the signature Hale eyebrow lift.
Stiles was not fully successful at covering up his jealousy.
Nor the shame and upset at having to play the incident off. Derek wasn't having it.
"Yes, a game. The red light game. You spend hours on your phone. How have you not—" Stiles started.
"No," Derek interrupted. There was a quiet hitched breath as all heads turned to stare at the Alpha. He tried to remain calm, and turned to look at his mate.
"It's not just a game. It is our game but we're also dating." Derek swallowed, keeping his breath and words steady. "He's my boyfriend."
Erica's squeal almost drowned out Stiles' beaming joy, but all Derek could see was Stiles; and the unfiltered, sunshine-bright love shining off his exhilarated face. There was surprise there, and some hesitance, but it was overrun by excitement.
"I fucking knew it!" Erica laughed loudly, smacking a kiss to Stiles' cheek and quickly infecting him with her laughter.
It wasn't long before most of the car had joined in, searching for touch all around. Derek felt both pats on his shoulders as well as a grip near his neck, grounding him to pack amidst all the congratulations. It seemed funny now, worrying about the reception of this news. Derek ducked his head to hide his burning eyes.
Relief, happiness—he wasn't even sure what to feel first, but he almost felt like he didn't need to name it. All he had to do was let himself feel it for now. Stiles put his hand over his, squeezing it lightly. Derek took it.
"Wait, so this is why we found you two cooking together that one time!"
Derek smiled, looking up to the road ahead with a lighter soul.