Work Text:
Stiles finds the flyer on a Thursday when he’s dropping dinner to his day. He’s busy complaining to the receptionist about how his Dad uses these late nights as an excuse to eat badly when he sees the stack of rainbow adorned pamphlets sitting on the desk, and he surreptitiously picks one up before he says goodbye to the receptionist and goes home.
He reads it in the safety of his room, about time and place and the order of parade. He is buzzing with excitement, and when he tries to text, his phone keypad lags annoyingly and he makes several spectacular typos. Finally, though, he has composed a suitable message.
Are you busy on the 23rd of next month?
He gets himself through the shower and into bed before he checks his phone.
1 New Text: Derek
Out of town. Why?
Stiles is a little disappointed. He types out a response anyway.
Planning a trip. Don’t worry.
Even though Stiles hopes for it, Derek does leave it at that, and he doesn’t get another text until they are faced with imminent supernatural danger.
One morning over breakfast, Stiles’ dad hands him the same pamphlet Stiles took from the office, and tells Stiles that he has to pay for his own gas for the trip. Stiles grins, and feels the buzz set in under his skin, because it finally feels like this is going to happen.
Stiles lets Scott know that he’ll be out of town a day before he leaves, but doesn’t tell him why. Scott’s good about it, though, because once he’s sure that Stiles isn’t going to be in any great danger, he doesn’t ask any more questions. Stiles feels oddly free when he passes the sign that says You are now leaving Beacon Hills. He turns off the local radio station he’s been listening to at that point, and puts in a mix CD he made especially for this occasion. Soon, the sound of AC/DC’s Back on the Road Again filled the car, and Stiles feels no shame in singing along to every bit.
He feels strange when he gets to his hotel room. It feels amazing to be in a whole new city by himself, even if it was still the same state. It seemed odd that while he faced danger every other week, and had skirted out of death’s grasp more times than he could care to remember, this felt like a milestone in his maturity in a way that his involvement with werewolves never had.
He’s so excited that he almost can’t get to sleep, but the hotel room has those little bottles of Wild Turkey, so he drinks enough to get loose and sluggish and lets himself slip into a dreamless sleep.
Stiles wakes in the morning a little groggy, but not hungover. He pushes himself through the shower, eats the free breakfast, and covers himself in blue and purple and pink. He’s bought coloured zinc especially for the occasion, and adorns his cheek with the stuff – over the top of normal sunscreen, of course; he’s pale, not stupid. He’s resisting the urge to bounce as he leaves the hotel, because this is where he belongs. He’s going to meet people who won’t assume he’s straight just because he likes girls. He’s going to meet people who’ll believe him the first time he suggests he’s not exactly straight – no offense to Scott or his Dad, who are both a little slow on the uptake. And best of all, he’s going to be away from werewolves of two whole days.
Well, no. He thinks the best things might be the kissing rallies. Yeah, definitely those.
The parades are amazing. Everything is in rainbow shades, and everyone is so friendly. He meets Eli, who petitioned to change his universities’ GSA into a more inclusive acronym, and Sara, who opened up the first vegan food store in her small town. He meets Ryan and Yves, who have been together for forty-two years this December, and Elsie, who’s three months pregnant, and Elsie’s partner, Jen. He’s handed so many pamphlets he loses count, and eats so many egg-free wheat-free sugar-free milk-free soy-free muffins he starts to feel sick. He goes out with some of the other under-18’s kids for lunch, and bonds really well with Daniel over Assassin’s Creed and the original Star Wars.
When Stiles finally gets home that evening, exhausted, elated and most definitely sunburnt, he just wants to fall asleep. He’s interrupted, however, by and obnoxious knock at his motel door.
He heaves himself off the sinfully inviting bed to go answer it. He’s expecting cleaning or something, but instead, he’s met with Derek fucking Hale.
‘Oh my god!’ Stiles shouts in disbelief, because seriously, how is this his life? He wants to cry. Derek had rejected him, wasn’t going to come up with him, and now he’s here. Stiles wants to punch the guy who came up with Murphey’s law –probably Murphey, he’ll guess – because it’s absolute shit. He can’t catch a god damnned break, especially not with Derek.
Derek looks positively murderous. ‘Why are you here?’ he demands. ‘I could smell you.’ And okay, can you say creepy?
‘Fuckin- I’m here for Pride, dude! For a break. A rest. A siesta. A vacation.’ He says, layering on the sarcasm.
Derek grinds his teeth, and Stiles thinks that if he were a werewolf, the sound would be like nails down a chalkboard. ‘You shouldn’t.’
‘What!’ Stiles cries, and laughs in Derek’s face. If he were perhaps more awake and more together, he might think twice about that, but, as it is, he’s a little cognitively delayed at the moment. ‘I absolutely should. I’m here, I’m queer, I’ll go to fucking Pride if I fucking want.’
Derek snarls, and Stiles hopes to God that he isn’t going to wolf out in a hotel doorway. ‘It’s dangerous.’
Stiles rolls his eyes. ‘Yeah, and hunters and kanimas are a piece of fucking cake.’
Derek’s mouth presses into a thin line, going white at the edges with the pressure. ‘Are you being careful?’
Stiles sighs, and leans against the doorframe. ‘Pepper spray, rape whistle, stick near the safe areas – I’m not an idiot, Derek.’
Derek shakes his head. ‘No, I mean…’ Derek waves his hand ambiguously, then growls, more at himself than at Stiles. ‘You know you need to use condoms with dudes too.’
If Stiles were drinking, he would have done a spit take. As it is, he splutters for a bit. ‘What?’ he finally exclaims. ‘Dude, I’m not here for hookups!’
Derek raises an eyebrow in disbelief. ‘Why not?
Stiles snorts. ‘I’m taken.’ Well, it’s close enough.
Derek frowns. ‘That’s a lie.’
Stiles waves his arms like he’s trying to clean a slate. ‘No, I mean, I’m sold. I’m caught up. I’m stuck on someone.’
This doesn’t appear to make Derek any more comfortable, and surely he hasn’t worked out Stiles is talking about him. ‘Not Lydia, though.’
Stiles ignores that, because Derek can’t hear the lie if he doesn’t say anything. ‘Listen, are you going to leave me alone?’ Stiles asks, and the exasperation definitely isn’t an act.
‘No.’ Derek replies, and Stiles has no idea why he expected the werewolf to say anything else.
He throws his arms up in defeat, and moves aside to let Derek in. ‘You can take the floor. I’m going to get some fucking sleep.’
The next day is a little less fun with Derek shadowing him. People tend to talk to him less with Derek glaring at them. It’s a bit of a bummer. His only joy is the zinc he manages to get on Derek’s face. Eventually, Derek starts to light up a bit, and he even laughs a Stiles when he’s dancing to Single Ladies. It’s almost… fun. They’re on their way to the kissing rallies when it hits Stiles, and he’s been terribly dense.
‘You were out of town…’ he whispers, and even though it’s loud enough to make Stiles’ ears ring, Derek hears him.
‘Ye-es.’ He replies, like Stiles is stupid. Stiles is going to have to agree, though. He’s an idiot.
Stiles stops in the middle of the road, and turns around to stare straight at Derek. People move around them like they’re a traffic island, splitting and remerging around them. It’d be cool if Stiles wasn’t having an epiphany. ‘You came to Pride!’ he shouts, excited. ‘You didn’t come to Pride with me because you were coming to Pride and you didn’t know!’ Stiles laughs. This is great. ‘You’re gay!’
Derek frowns. ‘I’m not.’ he says. ‘You know that. You drew a bisexual flag on my forehead.’
It’s true, Stiles had, but only because Derek’ cheeks had too much stubble for the zinc to work. ‘You’re bi too!’ he cries, and punches the air. ‘That’s great! We should have, like, a secret handshake.’
Derek laughs a little, and shakes his head. ‘Sure thing, Stiles, but we need to get the rally.’ He turns the younger boy around, and pushes him forwards. Stiles thinks he’s overanalyzing the way that Derek keeps holding onto his shoulder as they walk, because maybe he just thinks he’s going to lose Stiles, okay?
Granted, it’s hard to lose someone when you’re a werewolf, but maybe Derek’s just being protective.
They get to the stand just in time. A drag queen is on the stage, and she shouts into a megaphone to be heard over the music and excited chatter. She’s sweaty and grinning, and her energy is downright infectious.
‘OKAY! FIND YOUR PARTNERS!’
Stiles looks around, and stops when a cute blond girl with a pixie cut winks at him. He combat boots are spray painted blue, and the words ‘trans grrl’ are stenciled onto her white camisole. He starts to move over to her when someone grips his arm.
‘Stay here.’ Derek orders.
‘What?’ Stiles asks, but he can’t hear himself over the sound of the drag queen shouting out ‘TELL US YOUR NAMES!’ Stiles glances over, and the cute pixie girl has already found another partner.
‘Derek.’ Derek murmurs.
Stiles stares at him, disbelieving. ‘What are you doing?’
Derek rolls his eyes, and grips Stiles’ slack jaw. He moves it up and down as he says ‘Hi, I’m Stiles.’ He pauses for a second, pondering something. Stiles shuts his jaw tightly, but when Derek makes his decision, it’s easy for him to pull open Stiles’ mouth. ‘I’m a complete idiot.’
‘GET READY!’
Oh god. Derek’s going to – oh god. How could he have not seen this? How is he so stupid that he never realized that…?
‘THREE!’
Derek pulls him closer, still gripping Stiles’ chin in his wide palm.
‘TWO!’
Stiles feels like his heart is going to jump out of his chest. And Jesus, Derek grinning at him in a way that should probably be illegal. He’s gorgeous like this, beads of sweat on his nose and forehead, colour highlighting his cheekbones, and Stiles’ knows Derek’s blushing, because werewolves heal too fast to get sunburn-
‘ONE!’
Derek lips and on Stiles’ then, and he must bed dead. The queen the with microphone whoops, and it hurts his ears, because Derek is slowly working his mouth open with this tongue until the kiss turns hot and wet and electric. Stiles hasn’t had enough water, and he’s feeling faint, and Derek’s making it hard to breathe, so he has to be the first one to pull away.
‘Okay.’ He says, shocked.
Derek grins. ‘Perhaps you’ve had enough kissing for now.’ He says, and hands Stiles a water bottle. Magic, this man is. Fucking magic.
‘Thank you.’ Stiles pants, and sucks down the water like he’s found the first oasis in days.
‘More kissing later, maybe.’ Derek decides, and winks.