Work Text:
“FBI Cyber Crime Unit, Special Agent Stilinski speaking, how may I assist you?” Stiles balanced the phone against his shoulder as he stepped up in the line for his coffee. The girl in front of him glanced back behind her shoulder, clearly trying to eavesdrop.
“Hey, kiddo, nice title,” he heard his dad’s voice from the other end of the phone, clearly amused by Stiles’ choice of answering the phone. “All packed up and ready to come this weekend?”
Stiles nodded, then realized his dad couldn’t see his head moving. “Yeah, all set! The car is packed up, I’m getting my suit from the cleaner, and then Rick and I will be on the way!”
“I’m just so glad that you found someone, Stiles. Can’t wait to meet the boyfriend who finally convinced you to do more than play video games and study.”
“Uh, yeah. Yep, look it’s my time for the coffee, so I’m going to let you go. See you in a few hours!” He waited for his dad to hang up before shoving his phone in his pocket and collapsing on the coffee counter. A hand reached out to pat his hair. Stiles glanced up to see Laura Hale behind the counter today.
“What can I force Derek to make you?” Her smile was infectious; even though Stiles’ mind was filled with dread, it was impossible not to smile back.
He sighed, grabbed his wallet from his back pocket, and leaned up to order. “Quad long shot grande in a venti cup, half calf, double cupped, no sleeve, salted caramel mocha latte with two pumps of vanilla substitute, two pumps of white chocolate mocha for mocha, and substitute two pumps of hazelnut for toffee nut. Half whole milk and half breve with no whipped cream, extra hot, extra foam, extra caramel drizzle, extra salt, add a scoop of vanilla bean powder, with light ice, well stirred.”
“Timberwolf macchiato with whipped cream, blended for the smartass,” Laura ignored the apparent joke order, punching in the usual drink Stiles got and printed off the receipt. “I made it extra large because you’re driving home. That’s this week, right?”
“Yeah, that’s today. Making my way back to Ol’ Beacon Hills. It’s going to be great. I can’t wait for my dad to be disappointed to find out that Rick isn’t a boyfriend, and I am, in fact, still painfully single at the beautiful age of 28. And, and, I’m going to my cousin’s wedding, so not only will it disappoint him but everyone he told. You know. The whole family and everyone in town. Plus, everyone on his Facebook wall.”
Laura frowned, bending over to where Rick O’Connell, the Australian Shepherd, leaned against Stiles’ leg. The dog looked up with a smile, knowing they were talking about him. “I don’t know, Rick is a sweetheart. He’ll win them over.”
“He’s the cutest dog ever, but he won’t get me closer to my own wedding. I should have just corrected my Dad…” Stiles sighed again, tapping his card against the terminal to pay.
“Why didn’t you?” asked Derek Hale as he put Stiles’ drink down and pushed it toward him. He stepped out from behind the counter and walked around to start petting Rick. The dog gave happy barks, licking Derek’s face and wagging his tail. Rick always liked the Hales, just like Stiles.
He would never admit it, but one of the only reasons Stiles drove the extra five minutes from his apartment to WolfBrew rather than the Starbucks across the street was because of the Hale siblings. More specifically, Derek ‘Sexy’ Hale. He had thick eyebrows, thick thighs, thick arms, and a thick beard. They had become close friends during his time in Seattle, but that didn’t stop him from being Stiles’ wet dream for the last ten years. He pulled the drink up and took a sip from the straw, trying to hide his flush as Derek’s shoulder brushed against his leg.
“See, that would have been the smart thing. But it was too late when I realized that my dad thought Rick was a person, not a dog. I figured I’d just break up with my ‘boyfriend’ at some point and reap the pity points around the holidays. But my cousin insisted I bring Rick to her wedding. So–” Stiles lifted the leash a little, looking down at the dog. “Guess I gotta tell the truth.”
“Or,” Laura pointed out as she leaned up. “You take Derek to the wedding and say he’s your boyfriend, and I watch Rick for the weekend.”
“Three things wrong with that plan. One, Rick’s name is Rick, and my dad knows that. Two, Derek won’t drop everything to come to a wedding as some fake date for me. He’s nice to me, but not that nice,” Stiles snorted at the joke, taking another sip from the drink. Damn, Derek made good coffee.
“What’s number three?” Laura asked, giving Stiles a curious look.
Stiles frowned, tapping his cup with his finger, “Shouldn’t you be telling me not to lie to my Dad?”
“I don’t know if it’s a lie exactly,” Laura smirked and glanced down to where Derek was still petting Stiles’ dog and then back up to Stiles. His face flushed slightly; the oldest Hale was too brilliant for her own good.
“Rick is sometimes short for Derek,” Laura continued, “And I know he has nothing to do this weekend.”
Derek grunted as he continued to pet Rick. Stiles couldn’t see his face, but he knew those eyebrows were probably working overtime to give Laura a signature sassy look.
“Laura, you can’t just pimp out your brother to–”
“It could be fun,” interrupted Derek, shrugging his shoulders. He was still facing Rick with his shoulder against Stiles’ thigh, but nothing in his voice indicated he was joking. Was Derek actually considering it? “If you’d want me to.”
Stiles’ mouth hung open in surprise, glancing over to Laura, who looked like she had won something. “Wait, you’d do that for me?”
Laura clapped her hands, pushing up from the counter and calling back. “Marco, Anders! Derek and I are leaving for the day. Let me know if you need anything!”
Derek stood up from Rick O’Connell and turned to Stiles, “I have to go home and pack, but I’ll pick you up at your place in a half hour?”
“I can drive, you don’t –”
“Your Jeep is going to die if we take it. I’ll pick you up,” Derek clapped Stiles on the shoulder and walked toward the staff room, leaving Stiles confused and slightly concerned.
.o0o.
“Your cousin is Erica; she’s marrying a guy named Vernon, but he likes to be called Boyd; your dad is the Sheriff, and I should call him sir; your best friend is Scott, but he won’t be in town; your second best friend is Lydia and she will be in town and will ask a million questions about how we got together. How am I doing so far?” Derek asked as he drove them down the highway toward the last stretch before Beacon Hills.
Stiles shifted a little in the front seat of the Camaro, feeling a little awkward. He had hung out with Derek alone lots of times– movies, laser tag, all-night video game sessions, hikes with Rick, even the occasional dinner and movie when Laura stood them up – it was more that he was about to introduce his long-time crush as his long-time boyfriend to his family and friends. And Derek wasn’t even batting an eye.
“Like you know me,” murmured Stiles as he texted his dad their ETA. “It’s not too late, you can just drop me off and –”
Derek lifted a brow, turning his head to glance at Stiles. “Do you not want me to come?”
“I do! I just… It’s going to be very hard to convince people that this–” Stiles motioned to himself, “Could pull this.” he then motioned to Derek with gusto.
“That a smart, top of his class master in law bagged a coffee shop barista? Yeah, it's going to be very hard to convince people you settled,” teased Derek as he passed the sign that read ‘Welcome to Beacon Hills.’
Stiles rolled his eyes heavily, sighing. “You know what I mean. You’re attractive, funny, and have this charisma that oozes out of your eyebrows –”
“You think I’m attractive?”
“I have eyes, Derek.” Stiles snorted, “Every single woman in that coffee shop comes for you.”
Derek smiled a little, “I didn’t ask if I am attractive; I know I’m attractive. I asked if you think I’m attractive.”
“Yes, you’re attractive. And oh so so humble. Turn down Fulton Street here and then go to the big gray house at the end. We’re going to the Groomsdinner before my dad’s.” Stiles changed the subject as they passed the main street, feeling a blush creeping over his face.
Derek nodded and turned the car in the direction of Stiles’ instructions, pulling them up to a little cul-de-sac where hundreds of vehicles parked along the street. Derek pulled up alongside one of the other cars, easily parallel parking between the Sheriff’s cruiser and a minivan.
“Any last-minute things I should know?’ Derek asked, turning to Stiles. His green eyes were mesmerizing, Stiles almost losing focus and wanting to lean in and just…
Derek must have read his mind because the man leaned in and pressed a kiss against Stiles’ lips. It was soft, chaste, the warmth radiating from him almost supernatural as Stiles felt a hand creep over his cheek to pull him closer over the console. Stiles whimpered softly, opening his lips as he tried to deepen the kiss.
A knock came on the passenger window; Stiles jumped as he broke their kiss and turned to see his dad. “Where’s the Jeep?’
Stiles scrambled out of the car, trying to keep his legs from melting into jelly as he still tasted Derek’s lips against his. The two Stilinskis wrapped their arms around each other and embraced one another in a tight hug before breaking off.
“I told him it would be safer to keep it in Seattle and let me drive, Sir,” Derek spoke as he walked out of the car and stepped up behind Stiles. He put a hand out to the sheriff, offering one of his bunny-tooth smiles Stiles had only seen when Derek was behind the counter and yelled at. “Derek Hale, it's a pleasure to meet you.”
Stiles watched his Dad size Derek slowly, the blue eyes judging him without saying a word. Finally, Noah grinned and took the offered hand before pulling Derek into a quick hug. He slapped Derek on the shoulder, leading them from the car to the house.
“Good to meet you, son. I've heard all about you for the last few years, and I gotta say. Anyone who makes Stiles go for hikes is good in my books. You can call me Noah. Do you prefer Derek or Rick?”
“Derek, please. Stiles heard my sister call me Ricky once, and suddenly, it’s all he calls me,” Derek laughed effortlessly like he wasn’t even pretending to have a good time.
Noah laughed as well, wrapping his other arm around Stiles’ shoulders. “That sounds like my Stiles; he would always give everyone nicknames. Even if they didn’t need one.”
“I thought everyone used nicknames,” lamented Stiles as they walked to the backyard where long tables had been set up. Aunts, uncles, cousins, family friends, and some people he assumed were Boyd’s family and friends gathered in groups with glasses of wine and beer bottles around the yard, food organized on the tables, and the sound of a knife on glass interrupting Stiles’ defense.
The crowd’s murmurs died, and everyone turned to the strawberry blonde in a pantsuit holding a microphone. The classical music paused, Lydia’s smile widening as she cleared her throat and spoke into the mic.
“Thank you all for joining us for Erica and Vernon’s wedding! For those who don’t know, I’m Lydia Martin, the wedding planner, and I will ensure everything runs as smoothly as possible. For now, please enjoy the drinks and food, and remember to wish the bride and groom happy thoughts for tomorrow!”
The music swelled again, and Stiles watched his dad make excuses to go to the open bar. Derek stood beside Stiles, wrapping his warm arm around his waist. For some reason, it felt right.
“Ready?” Derek asked, turning his head to glance at Stiles.
Stiles reached around, sliding a hand into Derek’s back pocket. If he was going to fake it, he would get his fill of touching Derek.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
The horde of relatives approached Stiles as they recognized him, all curious about how Stiles was doing and who he had brought that wasn’t Scott to a social gathering. Stiles didn’t know what was worse: the relatives who commented that they thought Stiles would be single his whole life or the ones who asked when his wedding to Derek would be. It had been a night of introductions, no one talking for more than a few moments – everyone wanting to spend time with the Bride and Groom more than Stiles and his hunky hubby.
Which was fine with Stiles.
Lydia was the only person who seemed to be playing 20 questions with Derek. She had been his close friend for years; if anyone would sniff out a fake, it was her. She could tell the stitching on a handbag from fifty feet away; she would know if Derek was lying. The man was holding his own, though, answering every question naturally.
“How did you meet?” she asked, giving Stiles an almost triumphant grin like she had caught Derek unprepared. Stiles swallowed, realizing they hadn’t agreed on a story.
Shit.
Stiles had been about to say something, trying to take the heat off Derek, but the man was wrapping his arm around Stiles’ waist and pulling him close.
“It was about ten years ago, I think? Stiles had wandered into the cafe during one of the surprise Seattle rainstorms, and we were about to close for the day. There he was, soaked and dripping like a wet cat, and I had just washed the floors. I was already in a shitty mood because Laura had sent everyone else home early and left all the closing tasks to me, so I was just going to kick him out.”
Stiles remembered that day. He had been wandering the streets of Seattle, trying to find his way back to the dorms with a dead phone and no idea where he was in Seattle. Stiles had tried to find someone to point him in the right direction, but they sent him in a different direction every time he asked someone. Stiles had been about to give up when the rain started, and then, in the distance, he saw WolfBrew.
“But then he just launched into how it was a sign that his favorite place in his hometown was called WolfBrew, and he had been homesick for the last few weeks, and this was the first time he felt like he was back home. He kept talking, and I kept listening, and I ended up staying an hour after I should have. I enjoyed hearing all about Beacon Hills, his friends, what he was studying, anything and everything he could think of while I made him coffee and his phone charged.”
“The best coffee I had ever had,” interrupted Stiles, putting his hand over Derek’s and squeezing it. He was a little embarrassed that Derek could remember their first meeting perfectly. He had barely remembered anything besides Derek’s thick arms in the tight blue t-shirt and how his handwriting looped over Stiles’ name when he wrote it on the cup.
“He was so animated and excited about everything I just… I fell for him. I knew we’d never see each other again, so I asked him if he wanted to go out sometime to get coffee. You know what he said?”
Lydia shook her head, clearly invested in Derek’s story. Which wasn’t a story at all; this was exactly what happened during their first meeting. And Stiles remembered his response –
“‘No thanks, I just had some.’ And that was it. He left the shop, and I thought I would never see Stiles ‘Seattle Coffee sucks’ Stilinski again. But he kept showing up, and I kept asking him out. For the next ten years, I did everything I could to make him pay attention to me.” Derek turned to Stiles, giving him a soft smile.
That damn smile.
Derek leaned forward, pressing their lips together, running his fingers over the back of Stiles’ neck and pulling him close. Everything about Derek was warm and smelled like coffee despite them being hundreds of miles from the shop. After a moment, Derek pulled back and pressed another kiss on his cheek before brushing a thumb over it.
“Guess it finally worked,” Derek murmured, though it seemed more for Stiles than Lydia.
Stiles’ heart thumped in his chest, mouth suddenly dry as he felt a lump in his throat. He knew Derek was playing a part, but it was still so close to real life that it confused Stiles. Derek had no problem playing the perfect gentleman but had never shown any interest outside of friendship for Stiles.
So why did Stiles hope for more?
.o0o.
“I know you’re old-fashioned and all that, so if you want, I can –”
Noah held his hand up, shaking his head. “You’re 28 years old; you can share the bed with your boyfriend. Good night, you two. See you in the morning.”
Stiles watched his dad walk into his room and close the door, dejected a little that he couldn’t convince his dad to make up the guest bed for one of them. He glanced back to where Derek was sitting on his childhood bed, reading in sweats and a tank top. It wasn’t fair; no one should look that good in gray sweatpants.
“So, I can take the floor–”
“Or we can just share the bed,” Derek pointed out. “I don’t bite.”
Stiles bit his lip, taking a slow breath. “I’m not worried about your teeth, big guy.”
“Then what are you worried about? I don’t snore, you know firsthand. How many times have I passed out on your couch?” Derek chuckled as he stood up from the bed and put the book back into his bag.
“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles agreed before sliding out of his jeans and shirt so he was just in his boxers. “I’m just saying stay on your side of the bed, or you might find yourself cuddled. I’m used to sleeping with Rick, and he likes being held when we sleep.” Stiles walked to the other side of the bed, sliding under the blanket and curling up to take as little space as he could.
“Being cuddled wouldn’t be so bad,” teased Derek as he reached to turn the light off. “Good night, Stiles.”
With the lights off, Stiles couldn’t keep his mind from thinking about every little movement, every little touch. The bed dipped as Derek slid in, wrapping the blanket up and over. Stiles could feel Derek’s foot brush against his, their legs touching briefly before Derek pulled away. He closed his eyes, trying to think of anything but the fact that Derek Hale was in his bed.
“Why did you say yes?” Stiles asked, breaking the silence and any hope of getting to sleep. He had to know.
“You’d do the same for me,” Derek said softly as he turned to face Stiles. “And it’s not like I’m dating anyone.”
Stiles scoffed in disbelief. “Laura said you had someone you’re pining over, but that’s not true, right?”
Derek was quiet for a moment, the silence an answer itself. Derek did have someone he liked. The realization hit Stiles like a ton of bricks, heart sinking. Of course Derek liked someone; everyone liked someone. Stiles wondered if it was someone he met in the shop before. Was it Braeden, their delivery woman? Or maybe Isaac, the supply house guy? The more Stiles thought about it, the more he felt his stomach lurch. He had wanted to ask Derek out for ten years, and it wouldn’t have mattered. Someone else had his heart.
“They must be pretty stupid not to want to date you,” murmured Stiles as he tried to cover the hurt in his voice.
“Not stupid, but very thick.”
Stiles shifted a little against the bed, closing his eyes. “Obviously, you should just forget them; if they don’t realize you’re trying to ask them out, they’re either not interested in you or need it spelled out. Just find someone else. Anyone would be lucky to date you.”
“I don’t want just anyone, I want them. And I’ll wait until they realize, even if it means forever,” Derek’s voice was closer now like he had moved his head to be right beside Stiles on the pillow.
Then why are you pretending to date me? Stiles wanted to ask, but it wasn’t his place. Derek was a good friend, like he said. Stiles rolled onto his back, wondering if that would be more comfortable.
“Why did you agree to let me be your date?” Derek asked, “You could have easily told Laura to shove it and just taken Rick.”
Stiles sighed, “Because I like spending time with you, and you’re a better dance partner than my dog.”
Derek laughed at that, the bed shaking from the vibration. “You haven’t seen me dance yet.”
“Guess we gotta dance all day tomorrow then,” slurred Stiles as he felt sleep crawl over him. Derek said something softly into the pillow. Stiles was unsure what he said.
All he knew was something warm wrapped around his hips as he passed out, and when Stiles woke the next morning, he found himself buried face-deep in Derek’s back. His arm wrapped tightly around him, and one of his legs had found its way between Derek’s.
“Told you if you didn’t stay on your side, you’d be cuddled,” Stiles whispered into Derek’s back, trying to play it off like a joke. Hopefully, Derek couldn’t tell just how nervous he was. “We should get up, though. We have a wedding to get to.” He shifted a little, trying to pull himself off of Derek, but he felt a hand reach out and tug his arm back against Derek’s taught stomach.
Stiles supposed they could sleep in a few more minutes.
.o0o.
The wedding was beautiful; Erica looked flawless, Boyd looked stunning, and everyone looked happy. Especially Derek. His arm had been around Stiles’ waist the entire ceremony, and Derek had perfectly played the part of a long-time boyfriend. He kissed Stiles’ cheek every time they talked about love, gave him a little squeeze when Erica said something about Boyd being her best friend, even cracked a joke about how Rick would be a better ring bearer than Erica’s niece. No one would be the wiser that this relationship was fake if anyone looked in their direction. They would have thought they were a happy, in-love couple.
Which just made Stiles’ stomach hurt even more.
As the wedding ended and the group began meandering to the reception, the weekend drew closer and closer to the end, and then Derek would return to a barista friend rather than a barista boyfriend. Like the clock striking midnight and Stiles-ella returning to his old life of studying, video games, and Rick. He was dreading it with every fiber of his being.
“$6.35 for your thoughts?” Derek asked as they stepped into the reception hall and sat around the table with some of Stiles’ other family members.
“Is that the cost of a Red Wolf Mocha after tax?” Stiles questioned as he found his name card and took his seat. “And why do I know that?”
“Because you spend every day at the coffee shop. So, Red Wolf Mocha for your thoughts?” asked Derek, sitting in his seat marked ‘Rick.’
With a sigh, Stiles tapped his name card against the plate before whispering so quietly he didn’t think Derek could hear. “I don’t want this to end.”
Derek’s eyebrows furrowed like he had heard, mouth opening in surprise and a hand reaching out to settle on Stiles’ thigh.
Panic coursed through Stiles’ body as he realized what he had said. He tried to clarify, but the wedding party was starting their speeches to Erica and Boyd. Time seemed to tick by slowly as Stiles thought about his confession. There was no way to talk himself out of this or make it seem like he meant anything other than what it was.
Fuck it.
At this point, he had no reason to keep it to himself. He decided right then and there that he was going to tell him. If Derek didn’t like him back, that’s fine. But he couldn’t return to Seattle without telling Derek how he felt.
Dinner went by just as slowly, and Stiles could hardly touch the food in front of him, his stomach far too full of butterflies as he continued to prepare what he would say to Derek. Yet every time he tried to say something, he was interrupted: Noah talking Derek’s ear off about some sports thing they both liked, Stiles’ other relatives asking him how his double Doctorate was going, and the umpteen times the clinking of knives on glasses with choruses of ‘Kiss! Kiss!’ paused the dinner service.
He couldn’t catch a break.
“And now, the couple will start the evening with their first dance. They invite all happy couples to join them.”
The DJ spoke over the mic, Stiles blinking as he saw Derek’s hand offered to him. “You said we had to dance all night.”
“I say a lot of things,” Stiles sighed as he took the hand and let himself be led onto the dance floor. His legs quivered as he felt nerves catching up with him. He took a slow breath, allowing Derek to wrap an arm around his waist and pull him impossibly close.
“Like how you don’t want this to end?” asked Derek. They swayed with the music, both of them hopelessly horrible dancers. Stiles was unsure what song it was; all he could focus on were Derek’s eyes on his. Unmoving, unwavering, expecting something.
Now or never, Stiles thought as the music swelled through the chorus.
“I’m in love with you,” Stiles blurted out, shaking his head. “Like – nauseatingly, jealous of my dog spending time with you, can’t stand when you smile at me, butterflies in my gut in love. It’s sickening how long I’ve wanted to just wake up next to you–”
“Stiles –”
“–And now that I have, I don’t think I can go back to just being friends! That’s like, dangling water in front of someone who’s been lost in the Gobi for weeks! It’s been years, and I know you’re pining after some lost love or whatever –”
“Stiles –”
“But if they’re too stupid to see what an amazing person you are, then they aren’t worth your time. I’m worth your time. Because –”
Derek grabbed Stiles’ chin and captured his lips in a passionate kiss, swallowing everything Stiles was about to say. Surprise colored Stiles’ cheeks, but he wrapped his arms around and pulled Derek tighter against him. The song ended, but they were still kissing, Stiles’ fingers finding their way through Derek’s hair. Eventually, they broke off, and Stiles gasped for air.
“You’re the one I’ve been pining for.”
Stiles blinked, dumbfounded, as he looked over Derek’s face. “I’m… ME?”
Derek’s laugh was deep, rumbling against Stiles as the two continued their slow, awkward dancing. “I’ve been trying to ask you out for ten years, Stiles. All those hikes, the movies, the wanting to come to your place? Stiles, I offered to help you make flashcards at two in the morning when you called me frantic about your final. I thought you knew.”
“I thought you just liked my dog.” Stiles felt sheepish now, realizing that Derek would stay pretty late and then open the coffee shop the next morning without even sleeping. Was Stiles really that blind?
“If I only liked your dog, I wouldn’t have worn tight shirts to show off,” Derek said, pressing his forehead against Stiles’, taking a shaky breath. “No, I like you. Rick’s just a bonus.”
Stiles’s heart skipped as Derek said he liked him, “You never said, ‘Hey Stiles, let’s go on a date!’ though, how was I supposed to know?”
“I said ‘Do you want to go out with me’ so many times,” argued Derek, a laugh falling from his lips as he kissed Stiles again. “Fine. Stiles, let’s go on a date.”
“No.”
Derek blinked at the no, opening his mouth to argue when Stiles interrupted. “I'm thinking we skip straight to the boyfriends part. After all, you’ve already met my family.”
