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Derek had stumbled onto knitting shortly after he returned to his proper age. He’d hidden in for a few months while he made wobbly and hole filled but increasingly better flat scarves. The ladies at the local yarn shop knew him by name now. Sometimes, he sat in one of the ancient soft armchairs in the store with them, frowning at his work as he struggled to maintain his tension.
“How’s it coming?” Edith asked, settling across from him in another chair, working on a delicate lace shawl with a pattern Derek couldn’t even fathom yet.
“It’s… better.” He hedged. He was surprised at himself that he found it to be true about more than just the knitting. Derek wasn’t an alpha anymore and without the power, the brunt of the responsibility was gone. The pack had come to rescue him. Scott and Stiles had watched out for him while he was de-aged. His memories from that time were thankfully fuzzy. Scott and Stiles trusted him, helped protect him, and he had the respect of the Sheriff. It was a good place to be.
That wasn’t to say life was suddenly easy or peachy but he had something to focus on. He wasn’t amazing at knitting but he was progressing well according to Edith. He felt… proud of himself. He felt accomplished. Derek knit before bed and found that he slept more soundly. His brain would quiet while he counted the stitches. The yarn was soft, brightly colored, and it felt nice against his fingers.
“Your tension had improved a lot.” Edith smiled at him approvingly.
“Thank you.” He felt his permanent frown ease a bit.
** * **
When the guns had been put away and Braeden was lazing about in bed, Derek worked on his knitting. She rubbed the yarn between her fingers and smiled at him.
“That’s really nice.” She stretched a bit and he felt pleased with himself. “Who’s it for?”
“I don’t know yet. It depends on if I can finish it without dying.”
“You’re a real ray of sunshine. You better not die before I get paid.” She scoffed and prodded him in the side.
“No promises.” He replied, unbothered. This was easy right now. It would be easy when it ended too. She was funny in a sarcastic way. She enjoyed riling up Peter and only killed to protect herself or for pay.
“You better promise.” She retorted and tucked the pillow under her chin.
“I’ll do my best.” He promised with only a slight hint of sarcasm.
** * **
He couldn’t parse Stiles. He had been oddly quiet and reserved around him upon return from Mexico. He still remembered his pale, wide eyed face in the twilight, looking stricken and sick.
Braedan had punched him in the stomach and then hugged him so hard his ribs had creaked. “You had better never do that again. Or I’ll kick your ass.” She’d threatened him and then kissed his cheek. “You ever going to tell that boy how you feel?” She asked quietly afterwards. Derek’s heart fell to his knees, his hands went cold and shook a bit.
“That obvious?” He managed and sighed.
“He was the last person you wanted to talk to when you were dying. I was standing right there and we’ve been fooling around.” She chuffed him under the chin with her knuckles. He couldn’t help his slightly embarrassed smile. “You’re lucky I didn’t have any illusions about us. Might have hurt a girl’s feelings.”
“You’ve got bigger plans than me and Beacon Hills. But you’re right, I am pretty lucky.” He kissed her dimple when she smiled.
She’d left him two brand new guns and boxes of ammo when she’d gone to hunt down the Desert Wolf again and a skein of bamboo yarn with a note ordering him to make her something pretty.
Knitting had been put on hold for a bit after he’d technically died. He was still getting used to the new shift. Scents were even stronger than before, sounds louder. The yarn smelled more of the dye and alpaca when he finally ventured back into the store.
They had a new shipment of red angora yarn almost the exact shade of Erica’s lipstick. He held it for a second, heart sinking in his chest. He set it down gently and made himself move on. He couldn’t help a smile as he saw a powder blue the exact shade of Stiles’ jeep. He grabbed it up and moved through the aisles. He was hoping that he could make things for the pack. He had just learned how to knit in the round before the last trip to Mexico.
He thought, briefly, about making gloves for Stiles. He was always rubbing his hands together to warm them up and sticking ice cold fingers to the back of Scott’s neck now that the weather had turned.
His face flushed and he squeezed the yarn tightly in his hands when he thought about Stiles’ broad palms and long fingers skating down Derek’s bare forearm or clasping on his shoulder.
Mittens. He’d make him mittens.
He managed to focus long enough to get yarn for several projects before he rang up, giving Edith a smile that made her positively radiate happiness back at him before he left the shop. He’d picked up some pink for a scarf for lydia, the blue for Stiles, and a forest green for Scott.
He was about halfway to the loft when he heard a pathetic sound from a nearby dumpster. He frowned at it and stepped over, shifting a bag before he saw a box. The box mewled at him. He shifted out his claws to open it and found a downtrodden, pathetically tiny kitten clambering up the side. He looked around immediately for any signs of a human and found nothing. Of course. He hesitantly scooped the little bundle of black fur. It’s eyes were still blue and it felt ridiculously light where it curled it’s whole body into his palm.
He shifted the bag of yarn to get out his phone and called Scott.
“Y’ello?”
“Stiles?” Derek blinked in confusion and double checked that he called the right number.
“The one and only. Mr. True Alpha got puked on by a pekinese so he can’t come to the phone. What’s up?” Stiles prattled on happily in his ear.
“I found a cat in a dumpster.” He described the cat and Stiles related the information over.
“Scott says just bring it by and he can take a look. Deaton’s about to go home but we’re chilling out late because the puppies need some play time and Stiles will never turn down cuddles.”
“Have I mentioned how much I hate when you speak in third person?” Derek felt a muscle in his jaw tic a little bit as he smiled despite himself.
“That just makes it even more fun.” Stiles replied before he hung up the phone and Derek snorted out a huff of a laugh before heading in the direction of the clinic. The kitten mewled pathetically so he cradled it against his chest and zipped it into his jacket.
** * **
Scott and Stiles looked confused when Derek walked in without a visible kitten. Stiles made a strangled, high pitched noise when Derek unzipped his jacket to free the tiny animal.
“What was that?” Derek arched his brows sardonically. It was worth the minor embarrassment of carrying a kitten in his jacket to watch Stiles flush blotchily over his cheeks and neck.
“Choked on my own spit.” Stiles lied. He didn’t even need to hear the blip in Stiles’ heartbeat to confirm it that time. Scott just looked long suffering and gave Derek a rather earnest expression, holding his hands out for the kitten.
“She’s a girl, first off.” Scott proclaims after flipping her onto her back with a protesting mewl. “Pretty skinny for her age. Her belly should be more round than this. It’s really good that you found her!” He smiled at Derek. He absolutely did not feel a bit smug at having Scott’s approval. No. “I can get her set up with shots but she’s too small to be fixed yet. Are you keeping her?”
“Uh...Yeah.” Derek nodded a little bit. The kitten turned to look at him and mewed. He felt immediately pleased with his decision to keep her and reached to stroke the tip of his finger up her nose.
“What are you going to name her? Something unique like Shadow or Salem?” Stiles arched a sarcastic brow over his lopsided smile.
“...Artemis.” Derek decided and scooped the kitten back up. She purred so hard he thought she might rattle her bones apart. “I’m going to go get her food.”
“You should mix some kitten milk in with some wet food to help her put on weight quickly.” Scott suggested and elbowed Stiles, who was still gaping at him after the name. Derek clenched his teeth so he didn’t laugh outright as he left, settling Artemis into his jacket again when she shivered.
** * **
Derek couldn’t think about watching the pack open their gifts without sweaty palms, so he left them in their rooms and beat a hasty retreat.
** * **
A few weeks later, Stiles showed up at his apartment. He had armloads of books and the mittens on his hands, hood on his striped jacket up.
“Hey, big guy. So, are these knit of actual cat hair? I’ve worn them a couple places and set off some spectacular sneezing fits.”
“No. They’re knit of yarn.”
“Yeah but is it like cat yarn?”
“They don’t make a cat yarn. What are you doing?” Derek felt off kilter. He hadn’t been alone around Stiles in a long while. The familiar rhythm of his heartbeat filled Derek’s ear, his hands gestured with the mittens on.
“Homework, obviously.”
“Why here?” Derek lead, lifting his brows leadingly.
“It’s too loud at my house.” He lied. Derek heard Stiles’ heart skip several beats and he avoided Derek’s gaze. “Y’know, Malia always throwing such wild parties, bringing her new boyfriends over.” The last part wasn’t a lie, surprisingly.
“I bet.” Derek nodded, sarcastic. Artemis crawled up into Stiles’ lap, knocking over the textbooks and tugging on his mittens.
“I’m more of a dog person, myself.” Stiles made a face at him, eyes narrowed before he tugged off the mittens, letting Artemis gnaw on it.
“Is that a dog joke in reference to werewolves? We’re not past that?”
“We’ll be past it when it stops being funny.” He grinned. Derek stroked over Artemis’ back. “Not that I don’t appreciate the mittens, I do, but gloves would be a little more practical. It’s hard to drive with the mittens in the jeep, y’know. Gear shifts and things.” He scratched nimbly under Artemis’ chin, much to her delight. Derek eyes felt glued to his fingers and he gulped at his suddenly dry throat.
“If you want gloves, make them yourself.” He replied and picked up his latest project to start steadily clicking his needles along again.
“I’m pretty sure it takes some legitimate working up to that. Some practice, maybe, possibly having some of those needle things.” He gestured towards Derek’s hands. “I’d possibly need more fingers for that. How do you even?”
Derek paused and couldn’t help himself before he snatched one of Stiles hands out, holding it palm up.
“You ok there, big guy?” Stiles asked, sounding uncertain. Derek gave a hesitant nod.
“I’ll need a tracing of your hand to make sure the sizing is right.”
“You could have just asked.” He laughed. Stiles’ heart was racing. Derek let his hand go and calmly returned to knitting, ignoring the heat up the back of his neck. Stiles got out a sheet of notebook paper and traced his fingers. Derek watched with a suddenly dry throat.
Derek swore for a second that Stiles knew, eyes watching him with a narrowed intensity before he gave a wry smile.
“So, did you have to read Moby Dick when you went to highschool or had it not been published yet?”
Stiles let out a very satisfying squawk when he landed after Derek pushed him off the couch.
** * **
It became almost a habit after that. Stiles would invite himself in unannounced and plop on to the couch to mutter angrily to his homework, scratch Artemis behind the ears, and nag Derek about making him some gloves.
Derek had started and stopped a few times, resting his own hand against the outline Stiles had drawn. The graphite had smudged now and the paper was a bit worn.
Artemis seemed to be a magnet for every stray cat in the neighborhood to come. He had a little set up of bowls outside for them to come and eat. There was one cat that was very wary, a pale blond color with big brown eyes, and Derek was slowly coaxing him forward to be pet.
“Again?” Stiles asked with an arched brow as he tripped up to Derek, hands shoved deep in his hoodie pocket. Derek tried not to look embarrassed and shrugged a little.
“They like me.”
“Figures you’d be the cat whisperer. You’re basically a cat for all that you’re a wolf.” Stiles grinned and flopped with his usual effortless lack of grace.
“Oh really?” Derek raised his brows at him.
“Definitely.” Stiles started ticking off items on the tips of his fingers. “You look like you want to eat souls for breakfast but really just want to play with yarn, you try to aggressively be friends with people who don’t like you, you do that creepy unnerving cat stare where you don’t move or blink forever--Hey, that’s the one, right there!” He huffed a laugh and gestured to Derek’s face.
“I’m not sure I like this analysis.”
“Oh, i’m not even finished! If you can jump instead of climb or walk down, you’re gonna jump. You only let certain people touch you and only in certain places. You also have to go to the vet when you’re sick.”
Derek felt his eyes widen and his mouth slacken a little. It was accurate and almost too close to home for his comfort. He wondered if Stiles knew that he was one of the few people he allowed to touch him without permission, without Derek initiating the contact first.
“Sorry, I think that analogy got away from me a little bit.” He scrubbed a hand over the back of his head and looked a little embarrassed. “It’s like that time we had an in class essay for economics. I wrote the entire history of male circumcision.”
Derek couldn’t help it; he laughed. He dropped his head towards his chest and cracked up. It felt like the first time in a long time and when he glanced up at Stiles’ gobsmacked face he laughed even harder, shoulders shaking with it until Stiles joined in, looking delighted.
“I wish I’d seen Finstock’s face…” He mourned a little and Stiles laughed so hard he almost fell over.
“Oh man, it was so good. That vein in his forehead started throbbing and he turned like purple.” He crowed and slapped a hand over his own knees. Derek just smiled and shook his head.
“I don’t think the cat is coming today.” He stood and dusted himself off a little. Stiles followed suit and rubbed his hands together.
“Did you make my gloves yet?”
Derek handed him Artemis to distract him again.
** * **
Derek jerked awake to the sound of footsteps in his loft. He was crouched down in an attack stance and ready to pounce before he heard a sniffle and Stiles’ quavering voice.
“Derek? Sorry, i know it’s late.” He rubbed a shirtsleeve under his eyes. He had dark purple bruises from lack of sleep under them and he was still wearing his flannel sleep pants with a long sleeved shirt.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” Derek shifted and stood up, walking over.
“Nothing, I just… I can’t sleep. I don’t know what to do when it’s calm anymore.” Stiles stared at his hands like they might magically hold the answers.
“You mean… how to relax when it’s calm?”
“I guess. I just feel like something’s constantly looming. I feel like I’ve been treading water for years.”
“Figure out how to float.” Derek stepped forward and pressed a tentative hand to the ball of Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles hiccuped a laugh.
“I don’t know if I was ever floating.”
“That’s the first thing my mom taught us when we learned to swim.” Derek blurted out. He rarely remembered the good memories about his family, so rarely shared them, but it felt right to continue the analogy. He thought maybe Stiles needed to hear it. “It feels a little like letting go of control.”
“Yeah. That’s… I was talking to Malia about that on a full moon. Letting go. It’s hard. I feel like if I let go of too much, I’ll let go of everything.” Stiles paced a bit back and forth, wringing his hands in front of his ribs.
“That’s why I started knitting.” Derek offered again, feeling oddly exposed. It was more than that he was standing barefoot and shirtless, nothing but sweatpants in front of Stiles, but more like he was cracking open a protective layer he’d carefully constructed. It was a little raw and he felt very unprotected--vulnerable, even.
Stiles looked calculating for a moment, brows pulling together and eyes narrowing before he held up a finger at Derek.
“I’ll be right back.” He said and jogged out of the loft.
Derek looked at a sleepy Artemis, who’d come to investigate. She mewled up at him and he shrugged down at her in reply.
** * **
Derek was dozing again, Artemis a warm ball on his bare chest as he slumped on the couch, when Stiles burst back into the loft. He was laden with bags and a vaguely manic expression. He crawled onto the couch, pulling his feet underneath him after he toed off his shoes.
“Ok, so I didn’t know what kind of ..things I needed?” He pulled out a set of circular knitting needles--the cheap crappy kind with an awful cord--and a set of various straight knitting needles. “These work?”
“Um. Yes.” Derek scrubbed a hand down his face and itched at his beard. “Those circular needles are awful to work with though. The cord isn’t flexible enough.”
“Ah, well, I’ll take them back later.” He shrugged and then pulled out the most hideous orange yarn Derek had ever seen. “Teach me how to knit, big guy.” He grinned at Derek and waggled the skein of yarn.
Derek raised his brows and then checked the time. “At three in the morning?”
“No time like the present!” Stiles beamed at him. Derek heard Stiles heart skip a beat, saw his hands start to shake and scented a subtle anxiety.
“You’re paying for breakfast today.” He sighed and grabbed some of his own needles and yarn. “First step for knitting is a cast on.” He explained and walked him slowly through the steps, wrapping a backwards loop around his own thumb and sliding it onto the needle.
“You can’t laugh at me if I end up wrapped in the yarn on the floor like Artemis at some point.” Stiles warned, watching Derek’s hands like they might hold the secrets of the universe. It was an odd role reversal that had Derek flushing hot up the back of his neck.
“No promises.” Derek drawled in reply. “Focus so you don’t get tangled in the yarn.” He watched Stiles’ long fingers wrap around the needles and the yarn and tried desperately to remain clinical. “No, like this.” He reached out and redirected the way Stiles was looping the yarn around his thumb. “There.”
“Ok, so how many do I cast?” Stiles had a small line between his brows in concentration.
“Depends on what you want to make. Twenty is probably a good cast on number for you to start with.” Derek made sure he had twenty on his own needle and put Artemis on his shoulder when she started batting at the yarn too crazily.
Stiles fell remarkably silent for a while until he counted the stitches out and crowed with victory. Derek huffed a laugh through his nose.
“Now you have to learn how to do the knit stitch.”
“There’s more than one kind?”
“...Yes.” Derek shook his head fondly. “Get where you can see what I’m doing.” Stiles clambered to look over Derek’s shoulder. “So you go under the stitch, cross in back, yarn over, and then pull through. I’ll show you how to do a few of them.” Derek knit at a snails pace so Stiles could see what he was doing. Three stitches in, Stiles’ chin dropped on his shoulder. His breath puffed hot and damp over Derek’s neck and he fought to contain a shiver.
“I think I got it…. Can I try?” Stiles gestured with his needles in Derek’s peripheral. Derek nodded and was simultaneously relieved and disappointed when Stiles sat back, pulling his lips into his mouth in concentration as he slowly worked a single knit stitch. “Yeah?”
“Yep. Be careful to maintain tension.” Derek nodded and then pulled the yarn off his own needles and re-wound the ball before getting out the lacy pink scarf he was working on for Lydia. He zoned out as he focuses on the pattern, a soothing repetition of knit three, knit two together, knit five, yarn over… He turned music on like he normally did, soft and lyricless so he didn’t lose concentration.
He worked until his eyelids felt too heavy and he stopped with a stretch and a yawn.
“So, what do I do when I’m done?” Stiles asked, looking up and flexing his fingers. Derek blinked in surprise at him. “I think I have a blister. Ouch.” He hissed and rubbed the red line on his finger.
“Friction burn.” Derek picked up the end of a pretty sizeable scarf, and then tilted Stiles’ finger to look at the burn. “You gave yourself friction burn by knitting so fast.” he boggled. The scarf was still obviously a beginner work, the sides wobbling a bit and a couple holes here and there. It was also only about two and a half feet long, but that was amazing for the time given.
“I knit fast?” Stiles grinned, looking pleased with himself.
“Yes, very.” Derek nodded. “You’re only about halfway through the scarf though.”
“Oh… that’s not so bad, I guess.”
“I’ve been working on mine for a week.” Derek drawled. Stiles gave him a sheepish grin.
“Yeah, but that one’s all fancy.” He gestured. “Ouch, definitely have a blister.” He poked where the needles rested on his fingers and left red marks. Derek touched the tip of his finger to them and leeched a tiny bit of the pain. Stiles yawned hard enough that jaw popped. He leaned back into the couch blinked slowly, eyes drooping. Derek yawned in response and stood to pad over to his bed.
“Is it ok if I stay here?” Stiles asked. His voice was scratchy with sleep.
“of course.” He replied and tugged the comforter over himself again, nuzzling into the pillow a little as he turned the light off. He startled when he felt the bed dip next to him. “Wha--?”
“Dude, Artemis is a little fluff ball of comfort. I can’t move her. It’d be animal cruelty.” Stiles protested. Derek was torn. The idea of Stiles, sleep warm and splay limbed in his bed, making it smell like him, like them was extremely satisfying. “Your bed is huge. It’ll be alright, separate sides and all that.” Stiles yawned and tucked the blankets up under his chin. He dropped to sleep almost instantly, but Derek couldn’t seem to get there, watching Stiles eyes flutter in sleep. He mouth breathed and drooled a little. It really shouldn’t have been as endearing to Derek as he found it. Stiles rolled closer in his sleep, pressing cold toes to Derek’s leg.
Derek smiled as he dropped to sleep.
** * **
Derek was groggy when he finally blinked awake. He was unusually warm and comfortable. He frowned at the brown hair in front of him before his mind caught up with him. He was curled up behind Stiles, one hand slithered up Stiles’ shirt to splay over his lower ribs and the top of his belly. Their legs were tangled together and Stiles’ snuffled in his sleep a little.
Derek froze, uncertain of what to do now. If he tried to move at all, Stiles would wake up. Derek realized with mortification that the cuddling might be the least of Stiles’ worries because Derek’s usual morning situation was definitely still present.
He almost wept when Artemis came up and bat at Stiles nose, effectively waking him up. He spluttered for a second and moved to pet her before stilling. He slid his hand along Derek’s forearm to his palm.
“Sorry.” Derek murmured and shifted and pulled his hand back. Stiles sat up, face still sleep soft and lashes spiked together. Derek’s breath caught in his chest. Stiles stretched a bit and then snuggled Artemis up.
“No big deal, she just wants breakfast.” Stiles smiled and shifted to crawl out of bed. Derek frowned in confusion for a moment before shrugging it off. If Stiles wanted to pretend that wasn’t highly inappropriately intimate, then so be it.
Derek stretched as he got out of bed and tugged on a sweater before going to use the toilet and brush his teeth. He dug out a spare for Stiles and left it in the package on the counter.
“Oh no…” Stiles cried from the living room. Derek rushed in to find a tangled pile of bright orange yarn. “Man…. Artemis, why?” He looked at the cat. She rolled over on her back and purred.
Derek winced as he picked the yarn up. There was definitely no saving the scarf, all the stitches were pulled out, some down rows and chewed on.
“I have to start all over, don’t I?” Stiles made a face and flopped back onto the couch. His hair was in worse disarray than normal.
“Yeah. I left a toothbrush for you on the counter.” He took the yarn to the couch, slowly working out the tangles and winding it into a ball. Stiles sketched a salute as he went to the bathroom. Artemis tried to steal the yarn again while Derek worked on it and he gently chided her, untangling a paw when she got it stuck.
“hey, hate to just dash but my dad demanded me for breakfast.” Stiles shuffled a bit. “So… See you later?”
“Sure. Get some nicer yarn so you don’t get a friction burn again.” Derek lobbed the re-wound ball at Stiles head, laughing when he flailed to catch it.
** * **
Derek felt horrible for Artemis eating Stiles scarf. She looked guileless and sweet, curled up asleep with a paw over her eyes. He watched her for a few minutes before he caved and pulled out the tracing of Stiles’ hand out to make him some gloves. His fingers lingered over the outline and he remembered the feel of Stiles’ stomach tight and warm under his fingers.
He might have more of a problem then even he realized.
** * **
It became a routine, knitting together. Stiles would bring his homework or a knitting project that he’d power through. They sat in companionable silences or trading puns and conversation. Derek might have been slowly dying inside. Artemis was picking up horrible things from Stiles. He taught her to fetch one day, and he kept talking about training her to walk on a leash.
Derek finally finished the gloves and tossed them at Stiles after he finished writing his paper.
“Dude! These are great! Look at that.” He tugged them on. “Hey, you put little triskeles on them! How did you do that?” He marveled. Derek tried not to flush red with pride at the praise. He picked up his yarn bag to dig out the scarf he’d put on hold. He looked up at just the right (or wrong) moment to watch Stiles wiggle his long, graceful fingers in the gloves.
The yarn bag dropped to the floor, shooting yarn balls and string everywhere. Artemis ran in from the other room and dive bombed them while Stiles swore and got almost completely wrapped in yarn. Derek’s legs and waist caught the brunt of a few batted skeins and he stared down in dismay at the horrific mess. Stiles had a hold of a bright red ball of yarn and managed a whole beat before he cracked up laughing, head thrown back and mouth wide open.
“Oops.” Derek muttered, embarrassed, and that made Stiles laugh even harder. He wiped actual, honest to god tears from his eyes before slowly standing up in the tangle.
“It’s alright, big guy, we’ll get it cleaned up.” He chuckled a bit. “Artemis might be yarn high though.” He gestured to where she was on the other side of the table purring like a motor boat and chewing on a bright purple ball of yarn he’d bought to make Kira a hat.
“She’s slobbering on it. That was expensive.” Derek mourned a bit as Stiles stood. He stepped on a ball of yarn that flew out from under his foot. Derek rushed and caught him up against his own chest. He couldn’t help laughing at him but the sound broke off when Stiles straightened up and pressed a kiss to his smile. He immediately smoothed his face, lips going soft against Stiles’ in shock.
“Sorry, I...sorry.” Stiles looked terrified as he pulled away, eyes wide.
“Why?” Derek asked. He wasn’t even sure what he was asking why about himself because there were so many ‘why’s bouncing around his head.
“Why what?” Stiles asked, voice small.
“Why are you sorry?” Derek settled for. He was hopeful, at least, that he knew why Stiles had kissed him. His question proved right when Stiles’ eyes widened a bit and he grinned. He leaned in and pressed another gentle kiss to Derek, lingering this time and then licking gently into his mouth when he opened it to gasp.
Derek’s heart beat so quickly he was glad that Stiles couldn’t hear it. He melted against him and slid their hands together. He only stopped and pulled back when he was tangled in even more yarn. Stiles blinked a little, lips still slightly pursed and then smiled again as he saw their hands wrapped in the red yarn.
“We should probable clean this up.” He suggested. Derek laughed a bit and shook his head to lean in to kiss Stiles again, sliding a hand up his spine.
It was even better than he’d imagined.