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Sun, sand, and Stiles – that was pretty much the perfect combination for Derek. Years spent finally without something out to kill them every week had relaxed him, and he was content to just sit here and chill out with his boyfriend.
Not that said boyfriend knew what the words chill out meanth – he was running into the ocean, then coming back bright eyed with a salty kiss for Derek before running back into the water. This, right here, is perfection.
They are on a mini vacation from Beacon Hills, from both of their exhausting jobs (Stiles working with his Dad but as the lead forensic analyst in the state and Derek as a nurse in the pediatric ward of the hospital), and taking the time to just reconnect. It had been a long year of fights and arguments and make up sex before repeating the cycle.
So this, the two of them away from their phones and reality, is a blessing. They have two days left and Derek wants to make the most of them by adding in sex to the aforementioned trio of s’s.
“Derek! Come here,” Stiles calls out to him and Derek groans a little at having to move, but does anyway because it’s Stiles and he’d come out and do his best to drag him. He meanders toward where Stiles is waiting, a little away from the water and a stick in his hand. Derek raises a brow, already trying to imagine what kind of crude drawing he’d have drawn in the sand.
Stiles is standing with a huge grin, brighter than Derek has ever seen and Derek can’t help but admire it. It’s been rare these past few months and Derek is glad to see it back.
“I wanted to ask you something,” Stiles says, “and I know you’re not into cliché gestures, but I’ve been dying to ask you for months, and since we’re on this trip, I might as well make it as cliché as possible. The moment was perfect.” Then he points down the sand and Derek can make out the painstakingly neat letters of Marry Me in the sand. Stiles’ handwriting is barely legible on a good day, so Derek knows that taking his time here means something.
“Months, huh?” Derek says, trying to ignore the lump in his throat.
“Months,” Stiles confirms, smile never faltering, because it’s not like he doesn’t know every part of Derek already.
Derek carefully sidesteps the letters and pulls Stiles into a slow but sensual kissing, putting his answer into the way his lips move against Stiles.