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Derek is usually a levelheaded guy. Usually.
Except for when it comes to Stiles.
It has been a few months since Stiles went off to Berkeley and that should’ve meant that whatever they had between the two of them would be gone because of the distance. Of course that didn’t happen. Now, even with the distance (distance makes the heart grow fonder maybe?), they keep skirting around one another, flirting in the only way Stiles knows how (geeky references and flailing about), throwing looks at one another with lingering touches.
And it’s just enough to drive Derek mad.
Mad enough to buy a freaking engagement ring.
Since when did he think of Stiles as a forever type of deal? Or any type of deal? He has never thought of anyone like that, not even when he was a horny teenaged boy that loved (thought he loved) Kate. So he blames his moment of insanity to the smell of Stiles as he sat next to him, their arms and thighs pressed tight against each other while the other boy told a story about his roommates back in Berkeley.
There hasn’t been any supernatural crisis (crisises? Crises?) lately so all the peace and quiet is getting to his head. He hasn’t felt like this in years- the butterflies in his stomach whenever BAMF!!!! lights up on his phone, or the way his heart skips a beat whenever Stiles smiles at him, eyes crinkling.
He hides the stupid ring in his underwear drawer, walks away, and then yanks it out because the underwear drawer is just too predictable (not as predictable as the sock drawer, but still) and he hasn’t even asked Stiles out on a proper date because he expected Stiles to have asked him already and really, he should know not to expect anything from the stupid human.
He puts the ring back in the underwear drawer.
*~
And Derek will return the ring. Is going to return the ring. He puts it in his pocket because he has errands to do and returning the ring is close to the post office so he’ll return it then because it’s been driving Derek crazy since he bought it, making him glance at his drawers whenever he turns in bed like it’s just waiting to jump and attack him in the middle of the night. So yeah. He’s returning it.
Except that he spent too much time in the post office and he promised Stiles that he’d pick him up at the airport and he’s already late. He can return it after he drops Stiles at his dad’s house.
If he survives having the ring and Stile next to each other.
~*
And so the ring travels into his nightstand because Derek needs clean underwear and he’d rather get them without freaking out.
~*
It’s two days after Stiles got home and they’re in Derek’s clean and fully furnished loft because Stiles rented out Captain America and he commandeered Derek’s newly bought plasma TV so they could watch it. Derek is feeling oddly antsy because Stiles is just so close and his whole loft is starting to smell like Stiles so his brain keeps a mantra of StilesStilesStiles until he feels a hand fall on top of his fingers, the ones that had been tapping an erratic pattern against his jeans.
“Can werewolves develop ADHD?” Stiles asks, but it sounds rhetorical so Derek opts to focus on the warmth coming from Stiles’ hand and try to keep his breathing under control.
“You know, for all the leading and barking out orders that you tried to do, I’d have expected you to ask me on a date already.” Derek doesn’t choke on air. He totally doesn’t. Stiles pats his knee, eyes trained on the TV. “Now, we’re going to watch finish this movie, I’m going back to my dad’s, and then you’ll be picking me up at seven on the dot with flowers- tulips, not roses- and we’ll go have dinner and that nice Italian place on 5th.”
Derek nods, because he doesn’t know what else to say.
He forgets about the ring, obviously, he’s not thinking about it bringing it to their date or anything because of course that’d be jumping the gun. Of course.
~*
They take things slow. Glacier slow, or however the saying goes. And that was not Derek’s idea. At all. Stiles didn’t even kiss him after their first date or second or third or when they told the rest of the pack that they were together now (finally’s and about time’s from everyone. So rude.).
No, their first kiss happens when they have their first argument. It’s really not their first argument, they’ve had more than their fair share, but it’s their first argument as a couple, and it’s all because a troll had somehow gotten to Beacon Hills and Stiles had gotten hurt (“They’re just scrapes Derek, I wasn’t even in the hospital overnight.”) so Derek obviously chewed him out for being so irresponsible as he tucked him in the couch with piles of blanket and pillows and tea and muscle relaxants.
“I told you to wait for Scott and me to get to you, but no, you just had to act-” Derek feels a hand on his shirt pulling him down and the next second, soft lips are pressed against his, rendering him speechless.
“You talk more than me sometimes. Also, you worry too much.” Stiles mumbles, patting his cheek as he snuggles back into his nest, leaving Derek stunned, hands still gripping a blanket because he’s pretty sure he’s in love with Stiles and also might be losing his mind because the ring pops into his thoughts as Stiles pulls him to lay down with him.
*~
Derek keeps busy juggling the job at the garage and his job as an editor (thanks to his English and Literature degrees) but it’s not enough to forget that Stiles is at Berkeley, where he’s meeting new people and trying new foods (“I ate octopus, Der, octopus!”) and partying. He knows this because more often than not, Stiles calls him as he’s stumbling back into his dorm after a long night of dancing and drinking and Derek is not jealous.
He’s not.
He understands that Stiles should be enjoying his life in college so Derek is fine with that. He has no urges whatsoever to drive down to Berkley and growl at anyone who gets too close to Stiles. He doesn’t. He also doesn’t have the urge to just place that ring in Stiles’ finger so people will back off. He might’ve looked at the ring once or twice contemplating returning it so there are no more inexplicable urges but well, it’s too much hassle and even though he just imagines Stiles and him living in a two-story house watching Game of Thrones while their dog runs around them, he accepts the fact that Stiles is at Berkeley and Derek is in Beacon Hills and their dog doesn’t exist.
And he trusts Stiles. Has trust him since Stiles was a sophomore in high school, thrown into the supernatural world yet still saved Derek’s life, time and time again for nothing in return.
And he feels great that even when drunk, Stiles calls him, babbling about the stars, the street lights, the fact that his bed feels empty without Derek there, and then falls asleep before hanging up, his soft, even breaths the only indication that he’s fast asleep.
Derek doesn’t listen creepily while he sleeps though. That’d be creepy.
~*
And all of the sudden, Stiles graduates, it’s been two years and a half and Derek still has that damn ring and is no closer to returning it or manning up and just asking Stiles for his hand in marriage. But he still wants to. Marry Stiles, that is. The past years have been- wonderful. Even with the troll, the fairies, and the coven of witches, his relationship with Stiles has only gotten better and he can see himself saying I Do even after Stiles comes into his loft to clean up goblin guts and smelling like a dumpster. He has his wedding vows memorized and edited in his head even when Stiles leaves dirty plates in the sink and mysteriously has to leave the loft before he can clean them.
And that’s something that bothers Derek. The fact that Stiles doesn’t live with him. Officially. Unofficially, he still lives with his dad since most his things from Berkeley are there. But along the things that Derek has yet to ask of Stiles, he still hasn’t asked him to move with him officially even though he has like three drawers and half the closet filled with clothes. He’s waiting for the perfect opportunity though. He’ll get there. Eventually. Hopefully soon. Maybe later.
~*
It’s a week after Stiles starts his job as a Detective (Derek is not ashamed to admit that he has flaunted Stiles’ career choice to anyone who will listen) and he suddenly shows up clutching a black puppy with a single white paw and startling blue eyes.
“I found him after my shift like right in the alley all abandoned and he didn’t have a collar and oh god- should I have taken him to Scott first? Scott should know what to do. Do you have dog food? No, why would you have dog food, just because you’re- Do you have milk?” Stiles thrusts the puppy at Derek as he runs to the kitchen only to stop in the doorway when his phone rings and it’s Scott on the line, jabbering about gremlins. “Speak of the dev- gremlins? What are gremlins- never mind, stupid question, we’ll be there soon.” He hangs up and his whiskey eyes widen when he takes in the identical looks of bewilderment in Derek and the puppy. “We can’t take the dog!”
Derek doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t remember mentioning a dog to Stiles before and if Stiles knows him that well, then what if he knows about the ring and how Derek has already started to hyphenate their names to see what sounds better (Stilinski-Hale has a nice ring to it, and Stiles would be laughing at the pun) and if he knows then why hasn’t he said anything? His grip on the puppy tightens a bit, enough for it to give him a small bark in protest.
He makes the decision to leave the puppy in his room with the door closed after making sure to leave a few newspapers scattered about and a bowl filled with milk (goat milk that he has no idea where it came from but is apparently better for animals anyway). He can hear Stiles muttering to himself on the fastest way to get rid of gremlins while thumbing through old leather-bound books rightfully stolen (“Borrowed, Der, borrowed indefinitely. Quite the distinction.”) from Deaton.
“Come on, c’mon Derek!” He gets keys thrown in the face and there’s a flurry as Stiles rushes out the loft with Derek close behind and he really can’t imagine his life any other way.
He still doesn’t change his mind even after Stiles has draped himself over Derek, making their shirts stick together from all the blood and guts spilled in what was sure an epic battle with gremlins, who turned out to be more trouble than one would’ve thought for their size.
But Derek wants them to be conscious and not dead on their feet when he finally blurts out I have a ring marry me to Stiles. It’ll happen. Should happen soon, what with all these creatures roaming in Beacon Hills. He kinda wants to marry Stiles before either of them die and with that thought he lets out a garbled, “move in with me, I love you” because Stiles is grimacing at the goop on his arm, promptly wiping the guts on his shirt as he grabs Derek’s own and pulls him in for a disgusting kiss (disgusting because of their filthy state, the kiss itself is wonderful).
Stiles pulls back, smiling widely. “I love you too, and I thought you’d never ask.”
And that’s the first time they’ve said the L word to each other but it’s perfect and Derek wouldn’t change a thing because he’s just that much closer to fulfilling his dreams.
*~
Derek knew that forming a false sense of security was foolish and naïve. Stiles had yet to find the ring despite its location and Stiles’ inability to not snoop around, and no one knew of his moment of weakness and stupidity so who else to find out about the ring but Stiles’ best friend?
“Derek.”
Derek is face down on his bed, and it shows how far they’ve come for his back to be facing Scott while said True Alpha looms over him.
“Derek. Hey, Derek.”
He lets out a groan before he rolls over and he has about five seconds of panicking because the drawer in his nightstand is open and Scott is looking down at him, his palm face up with a seemingly innocent blue velvet box resting there.
“Scott, what are you doing here?” He’s trying to remain calm, he really is, but he’s dealing with a werewolf holding the very thing that’s been making him miserable. His heart is next to his tonsils at the moment.
“Stiles said you had extra paperclips in your drawer. What is this?” Scott sounds scandalized.
Derek brings his hands so he can bury his face and possibly try to suffocate himself because with Scott knowing, it suddenly makes everything so real.
But he still has to ask.
“Paperclips?”
Scott waves a hand dismissively (the one not holding onto the ring box), “we’re making bows with paperclips and rubber bands and- that’s not the point! Is this for Stiles? It better be for Stiles. Are you asking him to marry you?”
Derek sits up and gets a slight head rush, “Is Stiles here? Jesus, Scott, keep your voice down.”
“He’s giving the dog a bath. I checked him out for you, by the way, he’s healthy but- Dude! Why haven’t you done it yet? When are you gonna do it?”
Scott certainly picked up Stiles’ tendency to babble.
“I don’t know- soon?”
He gets an unimpressed look in return. “He’s going to say yes and you better do it soon because the holidays are coming up.”
Derek snatches the ring back and slams it back into his nightstand. He needs another hiding spot because if Scott found it, then Stiles definitely will. And again, it’s a miracle he hasn’t yet.
“I know, I know. Just- keep your mouth shut.”
Scott nods enthusiastically, his grin threatening to split his face. “Oh man, congrats. Now, where are the paperclips?”
“Other nightstand.” Derek falls back onto his back and attempts to smother his face with a pillow. If he dies, Scott can have all the paperclips he wants and the ring will go to Bartholomew the puppy.
~*
He should’ve known that Scott can’t keep his mouth shut because he suddenly gets a call from Lydia, of all people, wanting to talk about color schemes and locations depending on the season, which means that Allison knows. And then suddenly he gets texts from Isaac and Boyd asking him who’s going to be his best man because it’s obvious Scott will be Stiles’ and so who is he going to choose.
Derek thinks Stiles might need a new best man because he’s killing Scott and moving to Antarctica where the penguins won’t judge his life choices and he’ll be far away from the stupid ring that started it all.
~*
Christmas comes and goes with looks of exasperation and frustration from everyone in the pack, but Derek just can’t bring himself to say it. He knows even the Sheriff and Mrs. McCall know because he got pulled aside right before Christmas dinner and he’d rather forget that conversation ever happened even if he did ask the Sheriff for Stiles’ hand in marriage and wasn’t that just lovely.
Scott has taken to texting him every day with increasingly drastic messages that have become undecipherable yet the overall meaning is understood. Lydia has called him numerous times again to remind him that they have to reserve venues months in advance and if he could make up his mind right this second, that’d be great.
And suddenly New Year’s is here and he makes his resolution be that he’ll propose soon but resolutions are meant to be broken right? And really proposing on Valentine’s Day is just so cliché and Stiles would never him live it down (they have to deal with a pixie infestation anyway) so when March passes by quickly and April rolls around, Scott is all but ready to kill him with the help of the pack and Stiles remains woefully ignorant and completely wonderful.
Derek is sure to die from stress.
~*
He finally makes a reservation at a fancy restaurant in Sacramento, triple checking the reservation to make sure that can’t go wrong, and then checking it once more, so yeah. He’s going to do it. Finally. Scott and Allison are rooting for him (while puppysitting Bartholomew), Lydia has threatened bodily harm, and the rest of the pack is eagerly awaiting the proposal story.
Except that he’s absolutely freaking out and he can’t even enjoy the filet mignon in the square plate in front of him (which he can’t even remember ordering it for that matter).
“Hey, sourwolf, I feel like you’re waiting for something to jump out of the wine bucket.” Stiles says, placing a hand over Derek’s. He hadn’t even noticed how tense he was, knuckles a startling white. “Are you okay? I haven’t seen you this hyped up since our first date.”
“I’m fine.” If his voice comes out a bit high-pitched, Stiles doesn’t mention it.
He does frown though, which is the last thing Derek wants, for Stiles to be unhappy. “Maybe we should go home.” And isn’t that a stab to the heart. Home. With Stiles. He honestly never thought he’d get this far.
“No-no, it’s ok. I’m ok.” Derek can do this. He can totally do it. His other hand is gripping the blue box. All he needs to do is ask a simple question. Four words. That’s it. Except his throat seems to suddenly shut itself and he can’t get the words out.
“Der, you’re sweating.” Stiles is looking at him with big brown eyes, full of adoration. “You’re kinda worrying me a bit. Maybe you caught something from that witch we dealt with, I’ve got some herbs from Deaton that’ll calm you down.”
And all Derek wants to say is that he’s love sick and Stiles marrying him is the only cure he needs but he’s suddenly become mute and can’t stop Stiles from leading them to the valet (because Derek at least had the sense to pay beforehand) and opening the passenger seat because clearly Derek is in no position to drive.
It doesn’t take long for them to get back to the loft (home) and then Stiles is pushing him into bed, making sure Derek’s left in only his boxers before he goes back down to the kitchen to boil some water.
Derek takes that time to grab his phone and call Scott, who answers with a rather excited, “How’d it go!?”
“I- I couldn’t do it.”
Scott lets out a strangled yell, and Derek can hear Bartholomew barking somewhere near him. “Four words, Derek! You intimidated a hag with your eyebrows but you can’t ask the love of your life to literally be the love of your life?”
“You’ve been hanging out with Stiles too much.”
“Derek!”
“I know! I know! I panicked.”
“Four words! Two, even. Just do it.”
Derek sighs. “I will.”
Scott mumbles something unintelligible. “Right, well, we’ll drop off ‘Mew in the morning. Do it.” He hangs up, leaving Derek clutching his phone in comfort which is how Stiles finds him a few second later.
Stiles who is smiling softly at him and being so gentle and Derek just can’t. “Hey, sourwolf, this’ll help you sleep.”
Derek grabs the offered cup, steam coming off it that smells similar to lavender. “I love you.” And why can he say those words but not the others?
“Love you too, sourwolf. Now come on, let’s sleep.”
Derek finished the tea, drowsiness taking over, but even that isn’t strong enough to ignore how Stiles curls up to Derek’s side, palm against his heart.
~*
It’s morning the day after and Derek wakes up alone to the smell of eggs and bacon filling the loft. He pulls on his discarded pants before following the origin of the scents, heart swelling up with love when he catches sight of Stiles dancing to Mamma Mia by ABBA as he flips the bacon.
“Mamma mia, here I go again, my my how can I resist you-” Stiles grins at him, “- morning sourwolf, how you feeling?”
And Derek goes to say good except what comes out is, “Marry me.”
Stiles frowns at him. “Alright.”
Alright?
Derek frowns back, unsure if Stiles heard him or not. “Okay?”
Suddenly Stiles’ face opens up, eyes wide and mouth open as he turns off the stove without moving his eyes away from Derek. “Oh man, Der, is this what’s gotten you all in a tizzy?”
“Alright.” Derek mouths faintly, because surely it can’t have been that simple.
“You had to know I’d say yes, come on Derek. Babe, sourwolf, honestly what were you think-” Derek cuts him off, hugging him tightly within seconds and that’s when he realizes the ring is in his pocket.
He lets out a rather hysterical laugh, tears threatening to leave his eyes as he pulls it out, leaving as little distance as possible between him and Stiles as he holds the box against Stiles’ chest.
“Oh my god,” Stiles’ hand goes up to grasp the box around Derek’s fingers, “how long have you had it?”
Derek flushes a bright red, a squeak that he’ll absolutely deny gets stuck in his throat. “Three years.”
Stiles’ mouth drops open again, “Oh my god.”
And it’s seconds before Stiles can kiss Derek that the door to the loft is slammed open, Bartholomew barking wildly as he runs towards them.
Scott takes one look at them and then at the blue box and bursts out crying, and really, Derek wouldn’t have it any other way.