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Ed Sheeran crooned through the Camaro's speakers, singing about finding that perfect love, and Stiles couldn't help but look over at Derek and sing along. Letting the lyrics voice what he was still afraid to say.
Love.
Stiles was in love with Derek.
Derek smiled back, reaching over and taking his hand, and Stiles's heart flipped in his chest. He knew Derek felt the same even if he hadn't said it either. Maybe he thought it was too soon. Most people would, considering their relationship was so new. But that wasn't why Stiles hadn't said it yet. Honestly, every time the word tickled at the tip of his tongue, it felt so…insignificant. There was no way that one word—those four letters—could ever express the depth of his emotions for Derek Hale.
It was more than words. More than that simple yet complex emotion. It was more than love. Derek was his everything.
Derek said something then, but Stiles hadn't been paying attention. Too lost in the word that wanted to bubble out of his throat.
"What?" Stiles asked, laughing at himself. Sometimes it was too easy to get lost in his head. Especially when it came to Derek. Some days it seemed like every thought led back to him. And why wouldn't they? This was the so-called honeymoon phase of their relationship. That time when it was practically expected for them to be so wholly and completely absorbed with each other.
And oh, look. There Stiles went again—losing himself in thoughts of Derek. And honestly, he couldn't even be mad about it.
Derek grinned, his shoulders shaking the way they did when he was trying not to laugh but failing. Asshole, Stiles thought—affectionately, of course. This was something Stiles loved about their relationship. That they could laugh at each other. With each other.
So Stiles reached over and poked him in the ribs. "So what were you saying?"
"I asked if everything was alright," Derek said with a laugh, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to look at him. He let go of Stiles's hand, lifting a finger to Stiles's temple and tapping. "You looked a little lost in thought."
Stiles leaned into the barely there touch. Of course he did. He couldn't get enough of Derek's hands on him in any way, shape, or form. But these innocent touches…Stiles craved them.
"Yeah, I'm good. Just thinking about—" Should he admit it? Would Derek think he was crazy or weirdly obsessed if he knew how much Stiles thought about him?
Probably not. It wasn't as if Derek never admitted to thinking about him. Just the other day, Derek bought him a copy of The Lord of the Rings. His mom had read it to him when he was a kid, and he liked to collect the different editions. It was crazy because Stiles was sure he'd only mentioned that once. On their first date.
'You remembered that?' Stiles had asked, staring at the book. It was such a random thing for Derek to remember. And honestly, Stiles couldn't believe Derek had even paid that much attention to his ramblings. Most people didn't, and Stiles was fine with that. He knew he could be…a lot. When Stiles's mind drifted, there was no telling where it would lead. It was how he ended up writing about circumcision for an Econ paper in high school.
(Don't ask. It made sense at the time.)
Anyway, the point was that Derek had seen the book and thought of Stiles. So Stiles felt pretty safe in admitting—
"You," he said. "I was just thinking about you."
Derek beamed at him with that beautiful smile of his. The kind that lit up his entire face—eyes crinkling in the corners, his dimples popping. "Good things, I hope."
"Always."
"Feel free to think of me often then," Derek said, turning back to the road.
Before Stiles could make a quippy remark, the Camaro shifted hard, lurching as it made a terrible noise.
Stiles winced because that definitely wasn't good.
"What the— Shit." Derek gripped the steering wheel with both hands, sitting up straighter. Stiles could tell he was trying to coax the car by easing up on the gas and letting it coast. Stiles had gone through similar enough times with Roscoe.
Thankfully, there weren't many people on this stretch of road, so Derek was able to pull the Camaro off to the wide shoulder.
"Holy shit," Derek said, holding his hands up as the engine cut off and the car sputtered to a stop. His words came out a little shaky. When he turned to face Stiles, his eyes were wide. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm alright." Stiles was used to Roscoe breaking down on him at least once a week—the damn thing was pretty much held together by duct tape and hope. But it was clear Derek wasn't so used to things like this. "Are you?"
Derek nodded, but he still looked a little freaked out. Unsettled. It was kind of surreal to see from the normally easygoing alpha.
"I'm okay. I just…" His brows furrowed in obvious confusion, "don't know what happened. My car's never done this before." Derek tried the ignition, but there was nothing but silence. No sputters or clicks. "Fuck!"
Stiles might not have been a werewolf, but he could easily sense Derek's growing frustration. In an attempt to comfort him, Stiles reached over, placing his hand on Derek's thigh and squeezing. "It'll be alright. We can call a tow truck and have the pack come get us."
They weren't too far out of town yet—maybe twenty minutes into their mini-road trip down the coast.
Derek blew out a long breath, stilling as their eyes met. For a moment, they seemed to stare straight through him. Derek said nothing for a few seconds, but then he sighed—more in resignation than relief, but Stiles would take it.
"You're right," Derek said. "Let me at least pop the hood to see if I can—I don't know. I actually don't know anything about cars beyond changing tires."
Still, Derek got out of the Camaro and propped the hood up.
Derek might not have been a mechanic, but he looked the part, standing there with one hand on the hood as he peered down at the engine. He wore a scowl that was far too sexy, considering the mood.
Stiles's mouth twitched in a small smile as he watched Derek pull out his phone. Sure, Derek looked grumpy, but there was something else in that expression too. Determination and a will to figure things out. Stiles admired that about him.
After a few minutes, Stiles climbed out of the Camaro, coming to stand beside him. Derek had his phone pressed to his ear, probably talking to whatever towing service. Stiles looked at the engine, but honestly, he was only proficient in servicing 1985 CJ-5s. Besides, he doubted Derek had a roll of duct tape lying around.
"Okay," Derek said into the phone, pushing the hood down before placing his hand on the small of Stiles's back. Stiles leaned into him, listening as Derek spoke. "No. No, we have a ride. Thank you, though. Okay. Yeah, I can do that."
And then Derek thanked whoever he was talking to and hung up.
"It's going to take a couple of hours before a tow truck can come out here," Derek told him, and Stiles turned into him, hugging him.
Maybe Derek needed it, maybe he didn't, but Stiles wanted to show him he was there either way.
Derek held him close, rubbing his back. "I already texted Boyd. Should be here soon because he was already out."
"That's good." Stiles nuzzled into the crook of his neck because Derek still seemed tense. It was understandable, though. This was Derek's car. Stiles knew he'd had it since he got his license, just like Stiles had with his Jeep. And despite the ridiculous amount of times Roscoe broke down, Stiles still hated when it happened.
Derek nodded but said nothing. He just Stiles close as he buried his nose in Stiles's hair.
Stiles had to admit, it was kind of enjoyable. Obviously, this wasn't an ideal situation, of course. But there was something kind of nice about being here, broken down, in the middle of nowhere with the man he cared for. It was comforting in a weird sort of way.
At least that was the excuse Stiles was going to use after blurting, "I love you," for no apparent reason.
Derek pulled back, and time seemed to stop as he looked at Stiles, his gaze searching. Assessing. He must have liked whatever he saw, though, because his entire body relaxed. His face broke out in the brightest smile. Seriously, it rivaled the sun, and Stiles wanted to bask in its warmth.
"Say it again," Derek urged, cupping his face. His thumbs brushed Stiles's cheeks, and Stiles couldn't stop grinning at the happiness radiating from him. Derek wasn't that much taller than him, just an inch or two, but Stiles got to his toes, slamming his mouth against Derek's—needing to kiss him.
"I love you," Stiles muttered against his lips, unwilling to pull away. He said it again, punctuating each word with a kiss. "I. Love. You."
Derek's arms tightened around him, as if he were trying to get closer but only succeeded in pushing Stiles back onto the hood. Derek stepped between Stiles's legs, and Stiles locked his hands around Derek's wrists to ground himself before he could fly away.
Derek growled, and the sound went straight to Stiles's cock. He couldn't stop the moan that escaped him. Especially when he threw his head back and Derek latched onto his throat, sucking what were sure to be dark bruises onto his skin.
Fuck! Stiles hoped they lasted for days. Wanted those marks imprinted on him forever so he'd be reminded of this moment every time he caught his reflection in the mirror.
They probably would have devoured each other right then and there if someone hadn't honked, breaking them out of their lust-filled trance. Derek pulled back, dropping his hands from Stiles's face but lacing their fingers together as he helped Stiles stand again.
Stiles let out a nervous chuckle, heat rising to his cheeks.
Fuck.
There they were, out in the open, and Stiles had been ready to bend over the Camaro's hood if Derek asked.
"Sorry," Derek said quietly, a sheepish look on his face. God, he was too fucking cute sometimes, which was just unfair for someone as hot as him. "That wasn't very gentlemanly of me."
Stiles barked a laugh, dropping his head to Derek's chest. It wasn't as if Derek had acted alone.
Derek cradled his face, tipping his head up until Stiles was looking at him again.
"I love you too," Derek said. His voice was so soft. Softer than Stiles had ever heard it before.
Stiles's heart thundered in his chest. He hadn't expected Derek to say it back. Hadn't needed it since he already knew. "I know. And some people might say it's too soon, but I know how I feel. I know how you make me feel."
"I know," Derek whispered. He took Stiles's hands, lifting them and kissing Stiles's knuckles. "I feel the same way. I knew it from the moment I saw you in the quad that day at school."
Stiles could swear his knees went weak. Derek's words, the gesture… God, he could have swooned.
It didn't matter that their trip was cut short. Nothing would take away from this—their moment together on the side of the road, declaring their love. Where it was just Stiles and Derek, and literally, nothing else existed.
With that, Derek kissed him. It was soft and affectionate, bursting with their love for one another. And a promise of more good things to come.