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Somewhere around the time that Black Widow is kicking some sense back into Hawkeye (while also kicking his ass, it should be added) Stiles lifts the armrest that is a) separating his seat from Derek’s and b) quite possibly one of the best inventions in the history of movie-watching. Sorry George Lucas and your THK sound, IMAX, 3D, color film and the talkies.
There’s just enough light for Stiles to see Derek’s eyes flash over to look at him and in the sounds of yelling and explosions and other cinematic greatness Derek’s “What are you doing?” is for Stiles and Stiles alone.
“Nothing.” Stiles’s hand settles just above Derek’s knee and he leans his shoulder against Derek’s in a manner that could be considered casual--if the person calling the shots were visually challenged and in a pitch-dark room.
Derek’s cheek twitches and Stiles catches the hint of a smile before Derek does something that makes Stiles’s dig his nails into Derek’s jeans (and holy shit who would ever guess Derek Hale could be ticklish) and makes Stiles’s mouth dry and his dick alert.
When Derek calms from his ticklish twitch, that hint of a smile quite possibly semi-permanently affixed to his face, he looks over Stiles and then back at the movie screen and does it again and this time Stiles is ready when Derek lifts his chin just enough and leans into Stiles--a smooth patch of neck offered and inches away from Stiles’s mouth.
“Well if you insist.” Stiles kisses the crook of Derek’s neck, nuzzling and biting just below his jaw.
Derek slides his arm around Stiles’s shoulders, turning and dipping his head to catch Stiles’s mouth with his own, his teeth nipping at Stiles’s top lip.
“I told you this was a good idea.” Stiles’s hand has migrated from Derek’s knee northward and Derek’s ‘shut up, Stiles’ has neither bark nor bite as Derek tangles his fingers in Stiles’s hair and he deepens their kiss.