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Stiles did not know how he ended up here, but he was NOT complaining.
They were sitting on Derek’s couch, and each man had a controller and were playing Mario Kart. Stiles kept saying it was unfair because he wasn’t used to the stupid Wiimotes that Derek had.
“I would be SLAUGHTERING you right now if I had my controllers.”
“You’re just bad at this. Admit it,” Derek said, and Stiles could see his stupid smirk out of the corner of his eye.
“Nope, never. I am the greatest, you will not beat me.”
Derek had already beaten him once, but Stiles had won the game before that, so they were even again.
“I already beat you.”
“I was distracted. But no more! I am a focused, BEYOND focused machine of a man that will not waver. I will not be moved!”
Derek half chuckled, and Stiles smiled but didn’t move his eyes from the screen. He swerved to avoid a banana peel.
“Stiles, you get distracted by everything.”
“Not during Mario Kart.”
“I could distract you without even TRYING.”
“Yeah, okay, sure, what are you gonna do? Obviously talking isn’t distracting, as I just passed you - AGAIN - and if you actually fuck with me you’ll lose too. So no. There is nothing you can do. I’ve already heard that weird high pitched voice you can do and seen you practically naked. Those are the only trump cards you have, Derek. I am a man on a mission, and you will not stop me.”
Derek was silent then, and Stiles grinned, the obvious winner of the argument.
Then Derek leaned over into his space and KISSED HIS CHEEK.
Stiles nearly dropped the remote, and DEFINITELY swerved off a cliff from shock. Derek still didn’t say anything just kept driving and passed his second lap while Stiles was waiting for his life to load.
Stiles was, for one of the few times in his life, speechless. Did..did that really just hAPPEN? He yelled to himself. Stiles, eyes still wide, glanced over at Derek to find him smirking, the self-satisfied bastard that he was.
“That -” Stiles started, but didn’t know how to finish. He almost died again while trying to think of something to say.
“I thought you said nothing could distract you,” Derek said, still smirking, “I am a man on a mission? Nothing will stop me?”
Stiles huffed, pushing Bowser out of his way, and still didn’t know what to say. He lost the race, and Derek shook his head back and forth like a bobble head in his stupid cute victory dance thing he always did.
“Want to play again?” He asked, obviously expecting Stiles to decline.
“Yeah, sure,” Stiles drawled out, finally looking over at him, and meeting his eyes straight on with a raised eyebrow.
“Whatever you want, Stilinski, obviously I’m going to beat you again.”
“We’ll see,” Stiles said, already formulating a plan in his mind.
The race started, and Stiles let Derek pull ahead. Derek glanced at him suspiciously. Stiles was being more quiet than usual, not cursing or damning Princess Peach to hell, but he remained still, waiting for Derek to look back at the screen.
When he did, Stiles leaned over and smacked a kiss on Derek’s scruffy cheek, and could feel the phantom tingle of stubble on his lips as he pulled away.
Derek crashed into a cow and spent a good 2 minutes trying to turn around.
“That’ll show you to try and distract me,” Stiles mumbled and then Derek kissed his cheek again, making Stiles flail and dump his remote on the floor.
“Hey!” He turned his head to yell at Derek for cheating or something but forgot what he was going to say when his words landed on warm lips etched by stubble.
Stiles jerked backwards, as did Derek, and both stared at each other. Derek’s remote was also on the floor, the game forgotten, the electronic soundtrack fading into the background. Derek’s eyes were wide, staring at Stiles in what looked almost like fear.
Stiles reached up to touch his lips, still tingling, and then tentatively reached forwards to hook a finger in the collar of Derek’s shirt, pulling him slowly forward. This time they met halfway, softer, and slower. There were butterflies in Stiles’ stomach and his hands wound themselves into Derek’s dark hair of their own accord. Derek made a broken sound and hauled Stiles closer, large hands wrapped around Stiles’ back.
They kissed for what seemed like hours, long after they both had lost the race and Stiles found himself underneath Derek’s body, laying longways on the couch, mouth tingling and sensitive from being kissed and bitten, staring up at Derek’s blown pupils.
“I win,” Derek said, and Stiles mouth dropped open.
“You - you asshole,” Stiles said.
Derek grinned at him again, and leaned down to tenderly kiss him mouth once more. When he broke away, Stiles was grinning back.
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The next time Stiles played Mario Kart with Derek, Scott was also in the room, and Stiles kept giggling until Derek rolled his eyes and put down his remote, straddling Stiles on the couch and making out with him until Scott left, claiming he had been ‘forever blinded’ and that they were ‘lucky he didn’t throw up all over the living room.’