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“Please, Derek, please?” Stiles had begged earlier in the evening. He’d given Derek his best puppy dog eyes before glancing away and mumbling, “I really could use this right now.”
It’d been a dick move. He knew that Derek wouldn’t say no to him. And Derek hadn’t. He’d sighed as though it was the biggest chore he could possibly do. At the end of the day, Stiles was really doing it for Derek. He wanted the guy to finally relax.
Since he’d gotten his ass beaten in a couple fights, he’d become obsessed with working out and being a health freak. Stiles can’t count how many times Derek’s taken away his delicious meal to replace it with some healthy crap in the past few weeks. Too many times.
So Stiles had begged and Derek had caved. They’d spent (the perfect) night curled up in Stiles’ bedroom eating all the junk food they could manage without getting sick and watched too many shitty movies. “This one is actually the worst movie in existence though.”
“I believe normal people watch good movies together,” Derek had said. He’d edged a little closer to Stiles.“Your bed is so small. I feel like I’m going to fall off.”
Stiles had started to suggest they move downstairs to the couch, but then Derek had shook his head.
“We’re pack. Pack cuddles.”
Like it was that simple. Like it means absolutely nothing. Derek was so busy insulting the movie that Stiles hoped he didn’t hear the way his heart pounded like crazy. Stiles hadn’t been able to get rid of the lump in his throat.
He’d laid completely still and gotten quiet. At one point, Derek had started to draw things on his arm with his finger. Stiles had tried to figure out what he was drawing, but it was too hard.
At the end of the night, Derek had whispered that he should go. He’d murmured, “We should cuddle more often. It feels safe.”
Safe. Stiles would’ve been offended if it had been anyone else. But it was Derek. And safety is so, so important to him. Stiles just nodded and found his fingers grabbing the tips of Derek’s. He’d squeezed them briefly and dropped them in this weirdly intense moment.
“See you tomorrow?”
“See you tomorrow.”
So when Derek sends him a snap on Snap Chat around 1am, Stiles doesn’t really know what to expect. What he does know is that the photo he opens isn’t what he was expecting.
It’s Derek’s chest at a strange angle. The caption reads, “Stiles, do I have man boobs?”
Stiles hates that it’s only 7 seconds. He has no real time to process the fact that Derek just sent him ashirtless photo. They’d never done that before. Hell, they barely even used Snap Chat. Stiles still uses the app to send stupid faces to Scott, to send casual insults to Jackson (and check up on him and Lydia in Europe), to show Isaac scarves he’s missing out on, and sometimes he and Erica have pointless conversations over the app. But he’d never really snapped Derek before.
Derek’s chest is gone off his screen and Stiles’ lips part. He can’t breathe. Why can’t he breathe? This isDerek. Derek is his reluctant, grumpy friend. Derek is a pack member. Derek is Derek.
There’s…well, there’s always been something about Derek for Stiles. But it doesn’t matter. Derek’s Derek and that’s just…and no.
Stiles stares at his screen before his thumb slides across Derek’s name. He starts typing.
no man boobs…just a defined chest.
a very defined chest.
He immediately taps the text to save it. He can’t believe he just said that. Hell, he can’t believe Derek just sent that photo. He lays down on his bed and waits.
Fuck, waiting is the worst. He wonders what’s going on in Derek’s mind right now and then it hits him. He’s been so concerned about working out, and he just ate everything that Stiles had put in front of him. Derek’s probably bloated as fuck and freaking out about his precious (and super gorgeous) body. Stiles can’t help but be amused.
When his screen lights up with Derek’s name, Stiles tries to contain his cool.
ah, thank you stiles
I feel like I gained two thousand pounds because of you
Stiles snorts.
so you’re bloated, huh, der-bear?
He rolls over onto his back and bites his bottom lip. Okay, so his crush on Derek is starting to get out of control. He wants to be around Derek all the time. He’s starting to crave Derek’s company. But Stiles isn’t going to let any of his feelings get in the way of his friendship with him. Nope, not at all.
I guess so. can you tell?
The words are written across another photo. A better photo. More lighting and more chest and stomach. And a defined V that disappears below his dark grey sweat pants.
Seven seconds and then the photo disappears. Stiles may wipe away a little drool. What is going on? What is his life? Stiles squirms. He is not going to be turned on by two photos. No sir. Nope.
And it’s already too late. At least, Stiles wouldn’t touch himself. That’s crossing some line in their friendship that he’s not sure he could come back from. He feels as though Derek would know what he did and his eyebrows would get all close together and his lips would be pressed.
He sends a photo of his ceiling and types,
not at all. you look good hale
He figures that’s where the conversation will end. Derek was never up for flirting. Hell, Stiles figures the poor guy doesn’t even know what nice, healthy flirting is. It’s not as though he’s had the best record with flirting in the past.
Stiles wonders again what Derek was tracing repeatedly on his arm tonight, and at the thought, he arches a little. Dammit. He’s crossing the line. He is so crossing the line. And tomorrow, he’d have to look at Derek knowing that he touched himself while thinking of his friend.
It’s going to be worth it.
The thought is proven when Derek sends another photo of himself. This time it’s his legs spread out on the bed. Stiles can see the edge of his boxers. His feet are pointed to the air. The caption reads,
I wish I was still with you
Stiles doesn’t stand a chance. He closes his eyes and slips his hand down his pants.
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Stiles is nervous when he walks into Fancy’s Diner the following day. He wonders if Derek will notice something’s changed between them. It’s one hell of a change - masturbating to the thought of your friend crush.
“Hey,” Stiles says, a little breathless. He slips into his usual seat across from Derek. “How are you holding up?”
“I think I’m still fat,” Derek grumbles.
“Bloated,” Stiles corrects.
“Whatever. How are you holding up from all the junk?” Derek asks, pushing the menus to the side. They come here so often, they don’t need to look at them anymore.
Stiles laughs. “Dude, my body is used to it. I eat like that all the time.”
Derek’s eyes widen. “Stiles, I knew you ate poorly but…you eat like that all the time? How are you alive?”
“Who knows? Don’t worry. I’ll get a salad today.”
“No, you won’t,” Derek says.
“You’re right, I won’t.” Stiles grins at Derek before his smile drops. Quietly, with his head ducked, he asks, “So, you, uh, send those photos to just anyone?”
Derek’s eyes are steady on him. Stiles can’t bring himself to look up though. He is dying to know but at the same time, if the answer is yes, well, he’d rather not know. Then he hears Derek whisper, “That’d be weird.”
Stiles lifts his head now. “Weird?”
“Yeah. I only trust you.” Derek shrugs. “You’re my person, y’know?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I know.”
Stiles feels as though a small weight has been lifted off him. He settles into his seat and nods at Derek. “So, you really think you only gained twenty pounds? It looks closer to forty or fifty.”
Derek throws one of their free dinner rolls at him. He ducks out of the way and the roll falls onto the ground.
“Dude! Don’t waste free food.”
Derek laughs and fuck, if that’s not a noise that Stiles loves hearing. He’d do anything not to mess this up.
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Stiles has decided three days later that life hates him. Derek has sent him four other shirtless photos of him. One from right after his swim in the lake with the caption, you should’ve come over. The second photo is of Derek posing in the mirrors at the gym. Who even works out shirtless?! The third photo is Derek taking a selfie of himself gardening to show Stiles what he was ‘missing out on’. And the final is a ‘post-workout’ seflie.
So fuck Stiles’ life. Fuck everything. He had crossed his invisible line so many times already, and he’s pretty sure he can’t stop. He sends Derek a selfie of him with his shirt off. He keeps it mostly of his face.
why are you so attractive?
Stiles had teased him about his looks before and how he can’t take a bad photo. He’d probably brush this snap off as he had done with the teasing. He sits on his bed and pulls his socks off. He’s ready to go. His body must hate him.
Derek replies with another shirtless photo. Only this time it mostly focuses on his face.
I should be asking you the same thing
Stiles swallows. He swallows hard and then takes a total risk. He’ll claim he was drunk if it turns out badly. It’s not like Derek can hear his heartbeat from across town.
you should come over
Stiles snaps a photos of his boxers.
soon
There’s a light tap on his window six minutes later. He pushes it open and asks, “What took you so long?”
“I couldn’t figure out what to wear. I called Lydia.”
“Oh boy.”
“She was not happy that I forgot about the time difference,” Derek says as he crawls into Stiles’ room. He stands up and turns to shut the window. A quietness falls between them until Derek asks, “Did I read into this all wrong?”
“Are you going to make out with me?” Stiles asks.
“I was hoping to.”
“Then no. No, you didn’t read into this wrong at all.”
He’s not sure what he was expecting. But suddenly, Derek’s pushing him across the room until his back is against the wall. Their chests aren’t rising and falling in sync, but it’s nice to know that he’s making Derek’s heart a little erratic too.
Derek’s lips hover over Stiles and he very quietly asks, “Do you know how long you’ve been driving me crazy? Everyone always asks me when I’m going to make a move on you, when I’m going to finally kiss you senseless.”
“Why haven’t you?” Stiles asks. He hates how curious he is. He could be making out, but no, he needs to know why Derek hadn’t made a move before.
“You’re so hard to read. Everything came off so platonic. Kira suggested the shirtless photos. Erica said it’d drive you crazy. And then we were at Fancy’s and you smelled like arousal the entire time,” Derek tells him. His hot breath is against Stiles’ lips. Why that’s hot, he has no idea.
“I should probably always smell like arousal to you,” Stiles murmurs.
“Not like the other day. Not as though you’d just gotten off,” Derek says.
“I had. Thinking of you.”
It’s the last thing spoken between them for a while. Stiles takes back all of his negative thoughts. Life doesn’t hate him at all. No, life loves him and he loves life.
And his body isn’t betraying him for once. It’s making Derek moan as they stumble towards his dorm bed. Things are good. Things are amazing.
“We’ve crossed the line of just being friends, right?” Stiles asks.
Derek runs a finger down his arm. “Yeah, that line’s been crossed. I don’t think we’re just friends anymore. Boyfriends?”
“Boyfriends,” Stiles agrees. “What do you keep drawing on me with your finger? You were doing it the other night too.”
"I was writing I like you.”
Stiles beams. “I like you too. Kiss your boyfriend again?”
Derek happily obliges.
Who would’ve believed that it only took a seven-second photo to make this happen? Not Stiles.
At one point, he’s pretty sure he promises Derek some risque photos on Snap Chat. Derek’s definitely not complaining and Stiles has found a new use for the app.
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