Work Text:
Stiles started planning this when he was sixteen years old. It’s not that he fell in love with Derek right away or anything, he just thought the guy was hot. And he already had one plan going for the only other intimidatingly attractive person in his life, so he figured he might as well make another. Both plans were put on hold his senior year of high school, and after getting to know Lydia so well, he didn’t end up picking that one back up. But Derek…
The problem is that Derek got under his skin. He didn’t want that to happen, still doesn’t want that, but he’s always there, like a splinter. Or a mold. A really attractive mold with a great ass and eyes like galaxies and a sense of humor to boot. And yeah, Stiles has had girlfriends and boyfriends and friends and one night stands and booty calls (and been the booty call), but it’s always Derek, just sitting there, annoying him. Because that’s what they do, annoy each other. Or at least Derek pretends to be annoyed by Stiles’ awful pick-up lines and bad jokes and other awkward attempts at flirting. Sometimes he thinks Derek even flirts back, but he can’t really be sure. (Scott refuses to get involved after that one time Stiles kind of tricked him into telling him that Derek thought he was hot. Stiles has no regrets). But he decides to move forward operating under the assumption that Derek does flirt back, and continue onto the next (and most difficult) step of his plan.
The dating part.
He has a whole summer to work on it, home for three months before he goes back for his senior year of college. His dad actually allowed him to intern at the station, so his days are filled with monotonous tasks like scanning old case files into PDFs and organizing the evidence locker (with direct supervision from Parrish because for some reason no one trusts him). This leaves him with a lot of time to think, and scheme, and try not to do anything dumb when Derek randomly shows up at the station to see his dad.
Of course, doing embarrassing things, especially when numerous attractive people and his father are present, is practically ingrained in his DNA.
“Hey J, how’s it goin’ man?” Stiles leans as far to the left as he can while still remaining standing (or, on one foot at least), peering around the wall to watch as Derek and Parrish do some kind of bro handshake thing. First of all, J? Really? Since when does Derek give people nicknames? Although he definitely is the only person who gets away with calling Lydia ‘Lyds’ and Braeden ‘Brae’ and Liam ‘Junior’ and he might have been the one to start calling Malia ‘Li’. But still. He doesn’t have a nickname for Stiles. Not that Stiles isn’t already a nickname but like, he could actually use it instead of just referring to him as ‘hey you’ and ‘jackass’ and ‘nerd’. Secondly, the fuck kind of dumb handshake was that? Do the two of them think they’re frat bros or something, bumping shoulders and shit? At least Scott and Stiles’ secret handshake requires skill, finesse and memory.
“Stiles.” Derek says without even turning to look at him, pulling him out of his musings. Stiles flinches and tries to reel himself back, succeeding so much that he over balances and practically crashes into his copy machine. The copy machine. Basically his copy machine because he spends so much damn quality time with it. He can hear fucking Parrish laughing at him out there, so he decides to show them just how grown up and put together he is.
Straightening his shoulders and flattening down the front of his nice button up shirt (his dad has apparently never had an intern before and refused to let Stiles wear a uniform but insisted that he dress nice. Stiles bitched about it for a couple of days, but according to Lydia his ass looks fantastic in dress pants and he read on tumblr that everybody digs the rolled up sleeves look, so he’s settled on rocking it). He ambles out towards Parrish’s desk, thanking the stars that he doesn’t find anything to trip on. Derek’s got this weird look on his face, somewhere between amused, angry and constipated, and Stiles wishes he didn’t still think it was supremely hot. That man should be outlawed. In fact, he should arrest him. Once he becomes a deputy that will be his first arrest, Derek Hale, for public endangerment and being a general menace to society.
“How many files have you got through today?” Parrish asks, smiling up at Stiles when he pushes a pile of papers over and sits on the corner of his desk.
Stiles shrugs and rolls his eyes. “I dunno, like five? It's not like you guys are even going to use them anyway. Dad just doesn’t want to actually have to let me do something educational.” He sends a withering glare in the direction of his dad’s office, huffing when he just gets a wave and a fake smile. Fathers are so rude.
“At least you’re gettin’ paid,” Derek grumbles, drawing Stiles attention back to him. He’s leaning on the vacant desk across from Parrish’s, impressive arms crossed across his chest, biceps practically busting out of his t-shirt. His expression has softened a little bit, and Stiles might even call it fond. Maybe. Hopefully. In his dreams.
“Hey Grumpy! How’s it hangin’?” Stiles regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth, his cheeks flaming hot. Behind him Parrish lets out a snort and it sounds like his head thumps against the desk.
“A little to the left,” Derek drawls, chomping on his gum like he didn’t just answer a question about the placement of his junk. Stiles can’t help but glance at his crotch, swearing under his breath before tipping his head back and staring determinedly at the ceiling. God. He hates his life sometimes. Most of the time. All of the time. “Anyways, Scott invited me over for dinner tonight and he said I should come ask you want to bring?” When Stiles finally brings himself to tilt his chin down, Derek’s looking at him expectantly, one dumb eyebrow raised like he’s too used to Stiles’ nonsense to even bother raising the other.
“Uh…” Stiles blinks and pulls his phone out of his pocket, sighing when he sees two missed messages from Scott.
SCOTTY 2 HOTTY: yo. invited your bf over for din din
SCOTTY 2 HOTTY: i told him to ask u wat he should bring. since ull be cooking
ME: wtf bro, u can’t just invite someone over and then tell me to cook
ME: im not ur mom
SCOTTY 2 HOTTY: hell no u arent. and he’s /your/ bf.
ME: scotttttttt he’s looking at me rn like im crazy. And hes not my bf YET
SCOTTY 2 HOTTY: u <3 me
He sighs and scrubs his hands down his face, trying to remember if they even have anything worth cooking in their cupboards. They don’t. They never do. Neither of he nor Scott particularly enjoy grocery shopping, and when they’re both in school it’s rare for them to actually even go. But he could stop on his way how and grab some burgers and pre-made potato salad from the little grocery store down the road, could probably swing by Kira’s and swipe some fresh veggies from her garden. He might even break out the salad dressing he has hidden behind the box of Grape Nut cereal that no one has touched in years.
“Just uh…” He glances up to find Derek looking at him, still waiting on an answer. “Dessert? You can bring dessert?” Derek’s expression clears and he nods, a small smile pulling his mouth up to one side. Stiles stomach flips. He really, really needs to get out of here. “Good, great, um, well I’ll a see you later then.” He mumbles, spinning around and high tailing it back to the safety of his copy machine. It’s not until he’s securely behind the wall and out of view that he realizes he probably should ask Derek if grilling is okay with him. “Yo Der,” He peeks out from behind the wall to find both Derek and Parrish looking at him expectantly. “Are burgers and dogs okay with you?” Derek nods, but Stiles’ attention is caught by the creepy grin stretching across Parrish’s face.
“Derek’s a big fan of hot dogs,” the deputy offers. “The big ones you know,” he holds his hands up about half a foot apart. “D likes the big wieners, all juicy and you can barely fit ‘em in your mouth.” Beside him Derek covers his face with his hands, his cheeks turning brilliantly red underneath his stubble. Stiles would probably be completely enamored if he wasn’t so focused on not bursting into flames since the last visual he needs is the image of Derek trying to fit a giant hot dog in his mouth.
“I’ll bet he does,” he manages to wink at Derek before pulling back quickly, safely hidden behind his wall as his own cheeks flush.
“Parrish!” His dad yells from his office, voice echoing through the quiet station. “I’m pretty sure I hired you for something other than your ability to use inappropriate innuendos.”
Stiles loves his dad sometimes.
He’s going to kill Scott.
He knows that Scott’s just trying to help, that he’s just trying to hurry along the Derek Hale Seduction Plan since he’s been hearing about it for the past three years, but he’s really not helping. Inviting someone’s crush over for dinner and not telling said person until after the fact, and then expecting that same person to provide the dinner is like the opposite of helping. It’s hindering. It’s stressing Stiles the fuck out.
It should be easy, grilling up some burgers and dogs and having potato salad and garden salad on the side. But Stiles had to pick up the potato salad at the store (his grandmother is probably rolling in her grave) and beg Kira and Malia for some vegetables and then he had to clean his and Scott’s house because it looks like… well it looks like two college boys live there and haven’t cleaned in months. And then he had to figure out what to wear because hello Derek Hale Seduction Plan.
He’s in the middle of slicing cucumbers when there’s a brief knock on the door.
“Come in!” He yells from the kitchen, smiling over his shoulder as Derek walks into the kitchen with a pan of what smells like brownies (swoon) in his hands. “Hey dude,” he grins when Derek rolls his eyes, trying not to think too much about the fact that he’s leaning his hips against the counter right next to him. “Scott’s not home yet but we’ll start grilling in a minute here.”
“Sure,” Derek nods, eyes crinkling in the corners and sparkling with a smile that hasn’t quite reached his lips. Stiles isn’t sure when exactly he became an expert on Derek Hale’s expressions, but this is his favorite one. His smiles always start in his eyes, they sparkle a deep green swirled with gold, lighting up with inaudible laughter. It moves to slight lift of his cheeks, the subtle scrunch of his nose, the smallest lift of his lips. Sometimes he’ll actually grin, Stiles has only seen it twice, but it never fails to make his own face split in return. “Anything I can do?” Stiles realizes with a start that he is staring at Derek’s lips, narrowly avoiding slicing his fingers with the paring knife.
“Yeah um sure, can you set the table?” He brandishes his knife in the direction of their freshly cleared kitchen table (he definitely just shoved all of their piled up mail and notes and general crap into a box and hid it under the couch but whatever), yelping when Derek grabs his wrist and stills him.
“Stop waving that thing around, you’re going to lose an eye.”
Stiles rolls his eyes and returns to his salad, retrieving his hidden salad dressing out of the top cabinet when Derek isn’t looking. (It’s just that he knows Derek will make fun of him because it’s super weird that he keeps salad dressing hidden, but Scott is a weirdo who puts ranch on everything, and once they open a new bottle it’s gone within a week. So Stiles keeps an unopened bottle hidden for special occasions. Not that having Derek over for dinner is a special occasion or anything but…).
He’s finally setting the completed salad on the table when the front door flings open and Scott comes bounding in like the excitable puppy he is. He grabs Derek in a warm hug, eyes immediately focusing in on the ranch dressing sitting innocently between the ketchup and a stack of napkins. It’s like he has a built in radar or something. Probably can smell it with his super senses.
“You know,” Scott says as he releases Derek from the hug, smiling innocently. “Stiles only puts out the salad dressing when someone important is over for dinner.”
He’s going to kill him.
“No I-” He stops and glares at Scott, grinding his teeth together. He doesn’t want to say Derek’s not important, because he is, but he’s also not sure he’s at the point where he wants to admit exactly how important Derek is. “Why don’t you go light the grill, pal.” The venom he infuses into the endearment seems to have zero effect on Scott, who waggles his eyebrows and practically skips out onto the back deck.
“I was wondering why there was ranch dressing hidden behind the Grape Nut cereal,” Derek says, his eyes doing that smiley thing again as he approaches. Stiles gulps and backs up a step, wincing when the small of his back hits the counter.
“How did you… are you the one who ate some of that stuff? I only have it to threaten my dad!” He laughs awkwardly, eyes darting around as Derek boxes him in, hands resting on the counter on either side of him.
“You’re blushing.”
“Wow, do you want me to start talking about giant hot dogs again because I’m pretty sure you looked like a tomato today down at the station dude.” Stiles scoffs, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to distract himself from the heat he can feel radiating from Derek’s body. “Shouldn’t throw stones when you live in a glass house.”
Derek’s lips lift up to one side as he dips his chin and shift impossibly closer. He has to be able to hear the hammering of Stiles heart, has to smell the way his body is reacting. Stiles should probably be embarrassed but he can’t bring himself to care.
“Stiles, are you going to let me kiss you or are you going to keep making fun of me?” Derek looks up at him through his lashes, eyes impossibly bright. Stiles gapes for a minutes, mouth opening and closing around words that he doesn’t even know how to say. His fingers scrabble at Derek’s t-shirt, curling in the fabric for balance.
“Kissing? Yeah, yeah. I mean yes?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
“Oh my god, just kiss me already!” Stiles huffs, sliding one hand up and curling it around Derek’s neck. Derek moves before he can tug him closer, his lips soft and surprisingly gentle against Stiles’ own. He’s smiling, Stiles can feel it on the angle of his lips and the tightness of his cheeks. It makes it hard to kiss, both of them grinning too hard to do much of anything except bump noses. “Hey Derek,” Stiles mumbles into his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip before pulling back. “Why was the tomato blushing?” He can practically feel Derek roll his eyes.
“Why?”
“Because he saw the salad dressing!”
The tiny little laugh Derek huffs against his lips is the best thing Stiles has ever experienced.
“You’re ridiculous.” Derek grumbles, big hands leaving trails of heat as they slide down Stiles’ back and curl around his hips. He presses their lips together again, this time with intent, his tongue tracing against the seam of Stiles’ lips. Stiles moans and lets him in, the slick slide of their tongues sending thrills right down to his toes.
“Oh good,” Scott says from somewhere in the kitchen, his tone uncharacteristically sarcastic. Stiles is too busy with you know, Derek, to bother looking at him. “Just make sure I’m not around when you get to Step 10, alright?”