Work Text:
Derek glanced over the top of his book when the front door of the hotel suite burst open. The sound of Stiles and Lydia arguing floated to him in the bedroom he’d been sharing with Stiles. Derek tilted his head to try and make out the words, wondering what could have gone so wrong on their sightseeing trip that day. They’d been in New York for a week, and while Derek didn’t feel drawn to the touristy sights that the others wanted to see, he spent his days at the hotel reading.
He’d joined them for a couple of excursions, but Lydia wanted to visit St. Patrick’s Cathedral that day. Stiles had agreed to accompany her, but Derek turned down the invitation. He thought they would be gone longer since the Cathedral wasn’t far from a TKTS center. Lydia had been itching to see Six on Broadway. He was surprised they’d been gone less than an hour.
He heard the door to Lydia’s bedroom slam shut. Stiles knocked on it, calling her name, and Derek pushed himself off the bed to find out what had happened and try to figure out how to fix it before it got too out of hand. Carrying his book, he entered the shared living space between the two bedrooms and saw Stiles with his head pressed against the door to Lydia’s room.
“I said I was sorry. I didn’t realize the acoustics were that good in the place,” Stiles whispered, or at least what he thought was a whisper. His voice always carried, and even without his supernatural hearing, he would’ve been able to make out the words.
The door pulled open, and Stiles would’ve fallen into Lydia if Derek hadn’t rushed across the room and caught him by the arm. “I have never been so humiliated in my life,” she hissed, poking him in the chest, sending him back into Derek. “How could you say that?”
“I told you, I didn’t think-”
“It doesn’t matter! You couldn’t have saved the thought until we got back or at least outside?”
“Look, I’m sorry. I’ve never been to confession before,” Stiles said.
“You went to confession?” Derek asked, surprised. “Did you get struck by lightning?”
“He should have,” Lydia huffed. “In fact, I should call Kira and have her send a bolt of electricity his way.”
“Hey!” Stiles squawked. “I didn't know!”
“You damn well did know! Even if you’ve never been to confession, you’ve seen enough movies to know that the phrase is, ‘Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned!’”
“That’s what I said!” Lydia glared at him. “Well, kind of,” Stiles continued. “I mean, basically.”
Derek had a sinking feeling. “Stiles, what did you actually say? Word for word.”
Stiles dropped his head before muttering, “I’m sorry, Daddy, I’ve been a bad boy.”
Derek had to bite his lip to keep a laugh from bursting out. From the look on Lydia’s face as she slammed the door with a huff, he failed. Turning his attention back to Stiles, Derek saw him looking up at him through his lashes. Grabbing Stiles by the shirt collar, he tugged him back to the bedroom, closing the door behind them.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” Derek asked, pushing Stiles back towards the bed. Laughing, Stiles repeated his earlier words. “Definitely a bad boy,” he said before leaning over Stiles and capturing his mouth in a heated kiss.