Work Text:
&ONE
It's a Saturday morning, the Sheriff is out, and Derek is laying on Stiles' bed, bare feet pushed under the covers, paging through one of Stiles' books on mythological creatures while Stiles showers. The book is dog-eared in various ways (once, doubled, the bottom and the top corners) and full of sticky notes of assorted colors, abiding to some organizational system that makes sense to Stiles but certainly doesn't to Derek.
He's brought the book close to his face to scrutinize the moustache and pirate hat Stiles had drawn on a unicorn when his ears pick up what sounds like a howl of pain. Derek is about to jump off the bed to see if he's alright when he hears Stiles shout-sing WHEN I'M NOT WITH YOU I LOSE MY MIND. Derek drops his head against the wall, first relieved then sort of annoyed and extremely amused.
"I know you're not singing Britney Spears in there," Derek calls as Stiles is shouting GIVE ME A SIGN.
There's a long pause where the only sound is the shhhh of water before Stiles replies with a tentative, "No," and Derek shakes his head, turning back to his book.
For a while after that there's nothing else, and Derek is almost too involved in reading the history of griffons to hear Stiles finish with Hit me baby one more time, a little quieter than before, but Derek's wolf ears hear it anyway and he smiles with a roll of his eyes.
~
&TWO
Derek and his pack just got finished dealing with a band of rogue hunters when he goes by Stiles' house, perching on the roof outside his bedroom window. Isaac had gotten hit pretty hard, so Derek had sent him to the warehouse with Erica and Boyd while he told them he had to "do a follow-up perimeter" so he could check on Stiles (even though he's pretty positive they knew where he was really going). There isn't any reason why the hunters would even know about Stiles' existence since they were there with the wolves already in their crosshairs, but Derek quietly worried regardless.
Stiles is in his plaid pajama pants and the grey shirt Derek had lent him that one time they'd been out looking for signs of a vampire coven and Stiles had fallen into a pool of mud. It was a little big on him, hanging off his thin shoulders and making Stiles look like a kid in his father's clothes (and that is not at all how Derek should compare it because that makes their relationship seem even more messed up than it already is so he quickly dismisses the thought). He's in the middle of his room, air-drumming to a song that's playing from his computer, his eyes closed and mouth pulled into a tight line. When the female vocalist starts singing, Stiles overlaps her with his own voice.
The way you move is like a full-on rainstorm
AND I'M A HOUSE OF CARDS
You're the kind of reckless that should send me runnin' but I
Kinda know that I won't get FAR
Derek cocks his head slightly, knitting his eyebrows in confusion as Stiles mimes running his hands over what he guesses was a person's body as he sings And you stood there in front of me just close enough to touch. Stiles moves his hands out, clenching his fingers into fists, staring up at the ceiling. Close enough to hope you couldn't see what I was thinking of --
DROP EVERYTHING NOW
MEET ME IN THE POURIN' RAIN
KISS ME ON THE SIDEWALK TAKE AWAY THE PAIN
'CAUSE I SEE
SPARKS FLY
WHENEVER YOU SMILE
As he all but screamed that part Stiles began to skip around his room, pumping his arms to the beat, splaying his fingers wide. Derek doesn't quite understand what he's witnessing apart from the fact that he probably shouldn't be. He's about to leave Stiles to his dancing or whatever he's trying to do, assured that Stiles is perfectly safe from hunters (although safe from himself is another story altogether) when Stiles stops singing with the vocalist and says, "DEREK HALE."
Derek freezes, momentarily afraid he's been caught "creeping" and is about to be chewed out again ("People don't just do that, you weirdo"). He turns to look at Stiles but he's got his back to Derek, his fists in the air. "Derek Hale," he says again, "wherever you are, I dedicate this song to YOU," as the woman sings I'm on my guard for the rest of the world but with you I know it's no good.
"Inside voice, Stiles," Derek hears Sheriff Stilinski yell up the stairs.
Stiles' face is scrunched up like it does when he's embarrassed when he goes to his open door. "Sorry, Dad."
"Idiot," Derek sighs fondly before leaping off the roof and heading to the warehouse to go tend to his pack.
~
They're in Stiles' car on their way to the warehouse for a pack meeting. Usually Derek takes his Camaro but thanks to the combination of a pissed wendigo and Stiles attempting to bait it, his car got shot to hell a week and a half ago and is still in the shop. Stiles had insisted on driving Derek in apology when he realized that the thirty-two bucks he had to his name wasn't enough to pay for damages, and Derek had accepted if only to get rid of the kid's wounded look (he doesn't over-think the fact that puppy eyes work on an Alpha werewolf).
"Dude, I'm just being hypothetical here," Stiles is saying, talking over the quiet strumming music coming from the radio.
"We are not having this discussion."
"But isn't it natural?" Stiles moves his hands dramatically as he's wont to do, even while driving, which makes Derek unheedingly nervous. "In the whole-- mating process?"
"Stiles--"
"You're the one who's always preaching to be one with your wolf," he says drily, making air-quotes with his fingers. "I'm just sayin' I'd be down with it, man. Like, I could be one with your wolf."
The song changes as Derek glares at Stiles in disbelief, his mouth open, trying to think of something to say. He's about to settle on a good old-fashioned Hell no when suddenly Stiles shushes him and turns the volume on the radio up. Over some pop guitar a guy is singing I don't want my love to go to waste, I want you and your beautiful soul.
Stiles says, "Oh yeah," in the way that makes Derek immediately wary of whatever is to come, and then Stiles starts to sing along, and Derek knows he was not premature in his apprehension. The song is inherently about this guy saying he doesn't want to be with someone just because they're good looking, instead wanting to be with whoever it is he's serenading because of their "beautiful soul." Stiles keeps glancing over at Derek to sing I want you and your beautiful soul, and he's starting to feel like he's the one being serenaded.
"Are you having a moment?" Derek asks on a lull in the lyrics. "Do you need to pull over?"
"Please, this song is--" Stiles cuts himself off to sing:
Am I crazy for wanting you?
Maybe do you think you could want me to?
I don't wanna waste your time
Do you see things the way I do?
I just wanna know if you feel it too
There is nothing left to hide
Stiles is bopping his head back and forth. Derek is worried for Stiles' well-being, not for the first nor, he guesses, for the last time. Finally the singing is over, and Stiles finishes his sentence from a couple seconds ago: "--Amazing. Jesse has got some lungs on him."
"So do you," Derek says, "and right now I don't mean in the good way." He might have said that just to see Stiles turn red because despite himself that will always be one of his favorite sights, but no way would he ever admit that to anyone.
"That was Jesse McCartney's Beautiful Soul," the radio DJ says as the last strums of the song fades, "and to continue with this weekend's rewind, here's Vanessa Carlton with A Thousand Miles."
"Yes," Stiles hisses quietly as he starts to move his fingers against the steering wheel in a poor imitation of playing a piano.
Derek puts his head against the windowpane, staring dismally at the passing trees. "I am never getting in this car again."
~
&FOUR
It's late Monday night, the first Monday since school had let out for the summer, and Derek is outside Stiles' window. The cicadas are already around and humming loudly, complimenting the rustle of the leaves in wind. Derek had been moving things to the house all week -- tools to knock down walls and to dig holes and to secure nails -- and hadn't been able to get away to see Stiles until now (Stiles had dropped by last Wednesday with Scott and Jackson to help out a little but had otherwise been scarce).
The latch is unlocked and Derek had the intent to open it and slide inside, but when he'd arrived Stiles had been up and moving around his room, cleaning. This is, of course, a perfectly normal thing for one to do -- which is why it gave Derek pause, and for three specific reasons.
The first is the way Stiles is moving, and how he had been ever since Derek had showed up.
Stiles has a very unique way of walking. It's an off-center gait that makes him seem as though he'll fall over any second (and usually does) but every one of his steps is full of conviction. It's like he's saying I don't know what I'm doing here but I'm here anyway.
His steps now are small and careful, shifting his books on his desk straighter, folding his clothes, making his bed as neatly as possible. His body language is unsure, like he's thinking about every movement before he actually makes it. The only way Derek could describe it is that Stiles is ghosting around his room.
The second is the fact that Stiles is cleaning in the first place.
In some sense of the word, Derek supposes Stiles could be considered organized. It's in his own way, though, a way that looks like a tornado swept through with multiple highlighters and a serious revision of the Dewey Decimal System. He never makes his bed ("What's the point if I'm just gonna get right back in it?"). He doesn't fold his clothes ("They're gonna get rumply from me wearing them, anyway"). He certainly doesn't tidy his bookshelves and papers ("It's not like I take something out and then never look at it again, I know where everything is, stop trying to make me clean!"). So to see Stiles voluntarily smooth out his shirts to hang them up is plain bizarre.
The third is that Stiles is singing.
The whole time he's been cleaning, he's been singing quietly to himself. Derek didn't know the name of the song he'd arrived to hear but now Stiles was singing Soak Up the Sun. Whenever Derek had heard it, it sounded optimistic and cheerful because of the upbeat music and the lyrics both. The way Stiles was singing it now, soft and slow and private as he runs sheets of paper together into a neat stack, it sounds lonely.
Derek wants badly to go in and find out what's made Stiles so desolate, see what he can do, if anything, but he doesn't. He feels like he'd be interrupting, and so he waits and watches as Stiles opens one of his desk drawers and pulls out a framed photo, moving to the edge of his bed and sitting.
I'm gonna soak up the sun while it's still free
I'm gonna soak up the sun before it goes out on me
Don't have no master suite
I'm still the king of me
Stiles is drawing his fingers across the front of the picture frame, staring down at it wistfully. Derek can't see who it's of.
You have a fancy ride but baby
I'm the one who has the key
Every time I turn around
I'm looking up you're looking down
Maybe something's wrong with you
That makes you act the way you do
Maybe I'm crazy too
Stiles stops and pulls his mouth into a tight line, his eyebrows knitting together, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. He brings the picture up to his face and presses his lips to the glass. He whispers, "Happy birthday, Mom."
Instantly Derek is lifting the window, making just a bit of a noise so that Stiles would know he was there and wouldn't jump. Stiles rubs an arm over his eyes and puts the picture on the bed behind him, looking over at Derek with an attempt at a smile. When he opens his mouth to say something, Derek shakes his head, instead moving to take the picture. The smile immediately drops and Stiles' face hardens into suspicion and apprehension as he stares at Derek who stares right back. He holds Stiles' gaze as he moves his hand over the one Stiles still has clamped onto the frame, gently disentangling it. Stiles is letting him have the photo, is trusting Derek with something that is precious, sacred, so he treats it like a baby bird in his palms as he looks down at it.
The woman in the picture is grinning wide, staring straight into the camera with big, familiar auburn eyes. Her hand is up to her face to keep long strands of dark brown hair from straying into her face. Mrs Stilinski is, in a word, beautiful. In a few, she's absolutely, breath-takingly luminescent.
And Stiles looks just like her.
Derek walks over to Stiles' desk and doesn't put the photo back in the drawer. He puts it right next to the computer. When he turns around Stiles is there behind him. His mouth is very slightly open. He doesn't say anything.
Derek steps forward and pulls Stiles into a hug, wrapping up the quiet sadness and sharp loneliness that he knows Stiles is feeling, wanting to take some of it away. When Stiles finally relaxes into Derek's chest and puts his arms around Derek's back, Derek knows he's allowing the burden to be shared.
The following morning, Derek will kiss a drowsy Stiles on the forehead before disappearing out the window and going back to the warehouse he still has while the house is being renovated. He'll take out his own pictures from their little hiding places, the ones that survived only to be buried, and he'll flip through them, remembering, his own quiet sadness and sharp loneliness still there but more bearable. And when the Hale house is all in place, home laced into every knot of wood and nail in the walls, he'll put them on display in the living room.
~
&FIVE
Lydia Martin is having a party to celebrate the end of the school year and Derek has been dragged there as Stiles' "plus one" (something that Derek is sure you don't need for a high school party).
He'd tried every excuse in the book but, thanks to the fact that his entire pack was going and that Beacon Hills had been gloriously unbothered by supernatural threat for close to two whole weeks, all of them had been blatantly ignored by Stiles. Derek told him that a twenty five year old werewolf had no place at a frat party only to have Stiles insist that it would be "super fun" and that Derek needed a "night off from skulking around in the dark."
So there he is, leaning against the brick wall outside, feeling an awful lot like a chaperone. It's some time near midnight and there are fairy lights strewn everywhere and kids jumping into the pool and fucking loud music pounding from somewhere. Stiles had ditched him pretty quickly once he'd had made it clear he had no intent on mingling which is pretty damn rude considering he's Stiles' plus one and it's practically in the requirements to be with that person at all times. Now, Derek can see Stiles wading his way through the crowd with a red cup in his hand.
"I want to leave," Derek huffs once Stiles reaches him. Derek knows he sounds like a child, but he's surrounded by children and is not above using their tactics if it lets him leave. (He doesn't think about the fact that the only thing keeping him at this stupid place is that he doesn't want to incur the wrath of Stiles.)
"Yeah, well, I want to have a threesome with you and Scarlett Johannson," Stiles snarks. "Tough shit, buddy." He offers Derek his drink, but Derek shakes his head so Stiles takes a swallow himself. Stiles stumbles backward slightly. Derek reaches out to steady him, putting a hand on his waist and pulling him close, dipping his head and breathing in. He hadn't been able to differentiate Stiles' scent from all of the smells clouding the yard, but now he can tell that the kid is pretty damn wasted.
"You shouldn't be drinking," Derek says. He tries to take the cup away from Stiles, who just pulls his hand back, spilling some of the liquid on the pavement. Derek sighs. "None of you should. You're underage."
Stiles rolls his eyes dramatically. "Whatever, Dad. This is why no one wants to dance with you."
"That's not really--" Derek cuts himself off when Stiles puts his free hand on the back of Derek's neck and starts wriggling against Derek. "What are you doing?"
"I want to dance with you because I'm not no one." He's rutting up against Derek, carefully keeping his cup out of the way. "I'm Stiles Stilinski, bitch." Derek doesn't really know what to do except place his other hand on the small of Stiles' back and keep him from tipping over completely as he attempts to move to the beat of the song (and fails miserably, instead swinging in stuttered swaying with no rhythm at all).
The moment is made all the worse when Stiles starts screaming in Derek's ear:
WE ARE YOUNG
SO I'LL SET THE WORLD ON FIRE
WE CAN BURN BRIGHTER
THAN THE SUN
Stiles leans backward as he howls the last line, fingers pushing into Derek's neck. He loses his grip on his cup, which falls and splashes beer all over the ground, but Stiles doesn't seem to notice.
Now I know that I'm not
All that you've got but I guess I
I just thought we could find new ways to FALL APART
BUT OUR FRIENDS ARE BACK
SO LET'S RAISE A TOAST
CAUSE I FOUND SOMEONE TO --
Stiles breaks off into a fit of giggles and hiccups. He starts running his hands across Derek's face and says, "I actually really hate this song because it's--" hic "--super over-played but I can't help but sing it because it's just, like--" hic "--really catchy which I guess is why it's so over-played because teenagers kind of love songs with a good--" hic "--beat regardless of its shitty lyrics."
Derek turns up his nose because Stiles smells like sweat and alcohol and not at all like himself, and Derek doesn't like it. "The plague was really catchy, Stiles, and look at how that turned out."
Stiles snorts but Derek isn't sure if it's at his comment or because he's losing control over his body. Stiles hooks both of his arms around Derek's shoulders, rocking into him. "Hey hey hey. Derek. Carry me. Carry me home-- TONIIIIIIGHT." He jumps up and curls his legs around Derek's back. Derek catches him on reflex, one arm supporting Stiles underneath with the other around his waist.
Derek sighs as Stiles wraps his arms behind Derek's neck. "I am going to carry you straight into the depths of Hell," he says as he adjusts his hold on Stiles more comfortably.
"If Hell is a metaphor for jalapeño-hot sex," Stiles replies, pressing a wet kiss behind Derek's ear, "then my vote is yes."
Derek doesn't bother to respond, pushing through the crowd to get to the street. On his way he passes Scott and Allison, both of whom give him a look for baby-carrying a drunk seventeen-year-old. Derek can't blame them too much but still feels a little indignant about it. "I'm taking this asshole home," he tells them.
Allison covers her smile with a hand while Scott gives an incredulous nod and a muttered good night before Derek continues on the way to Stiles' car.
"You love me," Stiles grumbles into Derek's shoulder, already on the precipice of passing out.
"Doesn't mean you're not an asshole," he retorts without conviction as he fishes his key to the Jeep out of his pocket before opening the door and transferring Stiles as gently as possible into the passenger seat. He's trying to devise a plan on how he's going to get Stiles into bed without alerting the Sheriff when mumbles I found someone to carry me home tonight before falling asleep.
~
Work on the Hale House drew to a close last Sunday.
It had taken the entirety of last summer and half of this one along with sporadic visits during the school year to get it finished, but they'd done it. It's not exactly as it had been before the fire: crooked nails line the floorboards and corners of walls aren't fully painted, and because Allison, Lydia, Erica, and Stiles had insisted on picking out decorations, all of the rooms are laughably mismatched. Everyone else had brought in items, too -- a rickety table for the dining room, battered pots for the kitchen, a second-hand sofa. Little touches from every member of the pack, making it no longer the Hale House, but their house -- their home.
(Jackson had actually wanted to furnish the whole place with "actual style" but everyone decided that this would be better -- Lydia included, much to Jackson's chagrin.)
Oftentimes it got a little crazy, especially when all eight of the kids were there at once, which seemed to be the theme of the rest of the summer once everything had been put in place. But even if Derek couldn't get much alone time anymore, the laughing echoing through the halls had been missed.
Derek is stepping through the kitchen with an armful of groceries (his turn to do Pop-tart and root beer runs that week, which he hates -- he'd rather do the dishes than be on-call like a nurse for snack foods) when he hears a raucous from the living room. Derek puts the pop in the fridge and grabs the family-sized bag of Doritos that Isaac had requested, leaving everything else on the counter, and goes to see what all the fuss is about.
After being shot down about decking out the entire house, Jackson's little touch had been a video game console that they'd set up to the flat screen TV that Stiles had just happened to have laying around (Derek no longer questioned anything when it came to him). Being a house full of teenagers, this quickly snowballed into a (frankly alarmingly) large library of games as well as random extra equipment. For example, the faux-band set up that's currently in use.
The couch and loveseat have been pulled closer to the TV, creating a little enclave. Allison and Lydia are curled into each other on the loveseat, Isaac sits next to where Stiles is cross-legged on the couch, and Boyd is on the floor near Isaac's feet. In the faux-band , Erica is strumming the plastic guitar viciously, Jackson beating at the drum set with Scott beside him, clutching the microphone that is projecting his horrible vocals. Derek stands in the archway for a moment, smiling a little stupidly to himself while the kids clap as the song finishes up.
"That was absolute torture," Lydia declares once the screen shows their score for the song. "Scott, you need to let someone else sing."
Scott makes a genuinely wounded face at her, saying, "I wasn't that bad."
"Really? Your thirty-two percent up there would beg to differ."
Jackson snorts as Allison tells Scott, "I thought you were good," making Scott immediately light up. Derek rolls his eyes, walking into the room and bee-lining toward the couch. He drops the bag of chips into Isaac's lap which effectively draws the room's attention to Derek, earning him a chorus of greetings. As Derek comes around the side of the couch, Isaac slides to the floor with his Doritos to sit next to Boyd. Derek plops down and rests his arm on the back of the couch behind Stiles.
"Welcome back, darling," Stiles says in a throaty voice, like some sort of 1940's seductress with red lip stick and a drawn-on beauty mark. He puts a hand on Derek's knee to steady himself as he leans forward and presses his lips to Derek's cheek with a loud muah! before leaning back and shifting around so his head is on the arm rest and his legs are across Derek's.
"Your feet smell," Derek says.
Stiles waggles his toes with a grin. "You like my feet."
Derek makes a face then starts feathering his fingers along Stiles' arches, making him giggle and flail around.
"If Mom and Dad could stop being vomitingly cute for ten seconds," Erica's voice cuts in, "we need to figure out who's singing next."
"I still want to," Scott says.
Erica puts up a hand. "A-haha, no. That's quite enough out of you, William Hung."
Lydia bursts out laughing and gestures Erica over for a high-five.
"If Scott isn't allowed to anymore," Allison jumps in, "then I vote Isaac."
Isaac's head snaps up from where he's been shoveling Doritos into his mouth. He swallows and replies with a meek, "No."
"Oh, don't be so modest. The other day in the kitchen--"
"Allison," Isaac interrupts, giving her a pointed look. Allison raises her hands in surrender and leans back into the loveseat.
"I vote me," Jackson says.
"No offense, sweetie, but your, um, singing voice isn't exactly the best," Lydia responds. "You better stick to quietly pounding things."
Boyd oooooh's, earning him a glare from Jackson. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Exactly what you heard."
"Lydia--"
"Don't you Lydia me," she quips, and then Jackson is talking over her trying to talk over him and everyone else is attempting to get in a word edge-wise to calm them down or egg them on and Derek is just on the verge of commanding them all to shut the hell up when suddenly Stiles is on his feet.
"Guys," Stiles says loudly. Everyone immediately shuts up and looks at him. Stiles puts his hands in front of him and gestures downward, and anyone who had been previously sitting that had stood returns to their seat.
"Clearly there is some shit going on that needs to be sorted," he says, looking pointedly at Lydia and Jackson, who both pout and turn away, "but that is not the issue here. The issue is who's gonna lay out some sweet vocals." Stiles sweeps his hands down his torso with a grin. "I am just the man."
No one protests, either out of support or because they're too busy sulking. Scott gives the mic to Stiles. "And who will be my lovely band members?" Stiles asks cheerily.
Erica hugs the plastic guitar to her chest and backs away from the group; no one challenges her. Jackson narrows his eyes before tossing the drumsticks toward Isaac, who catches them on reflex. "You're up, Lahey," he says.
Isaac makes to object but Stiles says, "You can pick the song." As Isaac is standing and going over the drum set, Stiles glances over at Derek and makes a face. "Stop grinning, Creeper Wolf."
"Yes, Mom," Derek teases.
Stiles rolls his eyes. "It's bad enough that they call me that," he mumbles as he turns to the screen. There's a few minutes of scrolling through the songs with occasional shouts of "Do that one!" but Isaac steadfastly ignores them. Once Isaac settles on one, Stiles leans over and gives him a pat on the shoulder, saying enthusiastically, "Good one." Derek can't see from where he's sitting what song it is.
When the beginning chords start up, Erica nailing each strum masterfully, Derek can't help the face of approval he makes at Isaac's taste in music. Isaac jumps in on the drums when his part comes up, missing a couple beats before falling into the groove. Then Stiles opens his mouth, and Derek is surprised (which he cannot be blamed for, given his previous experiences with Stiles' singing) at the smoothness of his voice.
Well I’m so above you
And it’s plain to see
But I came to love you anyway
So you pulled my heart out
And I don’t mind bleeding
Any old time you keep me waiting, waiting, waiting
Suddenly Stiles pauses the song. There are various noises of discontent as he turns to face Derek. He narrows his eyes and says, "You're humming," as though accusing Derek of eating a puppy (a tone he is familiar with).
"So," Derek responds, raising an eyebrow. It was a little offensive every time Stiles was shocked that Derek behaved like any other person in the world -- he still got wide-eyed whenever Derek laughed. It was idiotic.
Stiles is quiet for a moment before saying, "Come sing with me." All the racket the other kids had been making suddenly fell away as seven pairs of eyes drift over to Derek. Being the Alpha, one would think he was used to having all attention on him, but in a situation like this, it was unnerving. He feels strangely pressured.
Erica puts a hand on her hip and opens her mouth to say something that will make Derek feel even more under their thumb, so he figures he may as well bite the bullet. He stands, quirking an eyebrow at Erica, who gives a placating but sarcastic nod, a line she walks well.
"That was easy," Stiles remarks sunnily as Derek takes a place beside him.
"You guys are making me soft," Derek replies.
"Oh, please," Erica says."You're like a s'more. Crunchy graham cracker on the outside with a melty, gooey center."
"Big ol' marshmallow Alpha," Stiles adds while he clicks some buttons.
"I hate you all," grumps Derek.
"You wish you did," Erica snarks as Stiles is counting off with the screen until the song picks right back up where it left off. Derek doesn't jump in yet, letting Stiles finish up the current verse, waiting for the chorus to start. Derek takes a breath, disbelieving that he's about to sing for his pack of teenage werewolves, and leans closer to Stiles to get to the fake mic.
Oh oh oh, I got a love that keeps me waiting
Oh, oh, I got a love that keeps me waiting
I’m a lonely boy
I’m a lonely boy
Oh oh oh, I got a love that keeps me waiting
There's a moment where Stiles stops singing and Erica stops strumming and Isaac stops battering the plastic drums and they all look at Derek, but he keeps on going. He's sung this song a million times, has been a Keys fan ever since Laura had decided to splurge and take the two of them to a concert in New York, and now he's falling into the rhythm. Derek throws his arm around Stiles' shoulders as the next verse starts:
Well your mama kept you but your daddy left you
And I should’ve done you just the same
But I came to love you
Am I born to bleed?
Any old time you keep me waiting, waiting, waiting
Once the song wraps up Derek opens his eyes, not realizing that he'd close them, having gotten so caught up. Derek takes a deep breath and looks around the room. Everyone is quiet, staring at him as though he had told them a secret he'd been with holding and they were betrayed.
"What," Derek says flatly. How surprised all of them, not just Stiles, were that, yes, Derek could be a normal person who sings with-- friends was seriously starting to aggravate him.
Finally, true to character, it's Stiles who breaks the silence, saying, "We are so having sex to Black Keys tonight." Everyone groans and someone throws a pillow. Derek huffs a laugh, flicks Stiles behind his ear, but doesn't say no.
(He'd kind of fibbed before when he said they were making him "soft," because they weren't, not exactly. Truthfully, they were just making him happy.)