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The way it starts is that the Metropolis Bank is getting held up for the three thousandth time by some overachieving minor supervillain, and because the entire front page is consistently about Superman, and he doesn’t typically stick around for an interview, Derek’s been sent to get pictures as it's developing. He’s just still struggling slightly with the concept of not involving himself in the story. He’s stronger, and faster, there are children here. There’s a mom shielding her baby, what, is Derek just supposed to let something happen to her? All because Superman hasn’t shown up yet.
Before he can really think about it, Derek’s stationed himself in front of everyone. Unassuming, nonthreatening, but positioned close enough to cut the guy off if that's what the situation requires of him. And then he reaches out, and puts a hand on the would-be gunman's shoulder. Which is all it takes for the guy in full, confusing costume to lower his weapon and burst into tears.
Apparently, some of the people who were there that day came out of all of that convinced that Derek's Superman.
He meets Stiles a while after that. Stiles is the paper’s humor columnist. He doesn’t tend to get out much.
But he is funny. That’s probably the first thing Derek notices about him. If not everything else, at the same time.
He is, he has… Derek just likes him. He can’t explain it. Or, he can, but he can’t be brief about it. If he tries, he just goes on and on.
He’s never felt so paid attention to before. At least not in a bad way. In—someone meeting him, and instantly deciding he wants to be friends with him.
It’s slightly terrifying thinking of the werewolf thing ruining that.
It's not like he meant to start his relationship with Stiles on a lie. Mostly, he was just trying to keep his head down and build himself some kind of normal. Just trying to get by in the human workforce without being too obvious about himself. The over-the-top clumsiness is barely even a ploy at all, at this point. Maybe it started that way, but these days, it happens completely unintentionally as soon as he knows Stiles is around. Something about Stiles just makes Derek incredibly nervous. And not in a bad way, but, it’s embarrassing.
In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t the smartest choice to try to hide as human around a handful of the city’s best investigative reporters. But he does have an English degree, so… And he does like trying to solve things. Plus, he does have a natural advantage over his coworkers in a lot of ways. Tracking a lead’s bound to be a lot easier when you’re a born werewolf. And accidentally overhearing something important is a lot more likely when you can take it all in from the roof.
Which is how he meets Superman, the first time. Apparently, the roof’s his territory. Which makes a lot of sense once Derek thinks about it, what with the flying and everything, but it’s still surprising to actually see him.
It’s even more surprising to recognize his scent.
“Stiles?” he says, and Superman jumps exactly like Stiles does when someone startles him. “You’re… Wait. You’re supernatural?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Stiles says. He’s doing a terrible British accent, but it’s definitely him.
“I’m not gonna tell anyone, or anything,” Derek says. Actually, this is perfect. “I mean, I have my own secrets. So to speak.”
“You being gay is not a secret,” Stiles says, not even bothering with an accent now. Derek blinks at him.
“I don’t think I said it was? Not that…” He goes very hot in the face. “I’m bi, actually. Is it really that obvious?”
“Call it more of an optimistic stab in the dark,” Stiles says. It takes a second for Derek to absorb the implications of that, and his face goes hot again. “So what is your deep dark secret?”
Well, now would be the time. “I’m a werewolf.”
“Very funny,” Stiles says. “Alright, one more time! And this time, try to vaguely tell the truth.”
“I mean it,” Derek says. “Is that really so hard to believe? You can fly, can’t you?”
“That’s different,” Stiles says, and, oh wow. That’s the last thing Derek ever expected to have confirmed for him.
“You can fly?”
“Nice try, werewolf,” Stiles says. “Show me some werewolf stuff. Wait, can werewolves even do anything? Is it only on the full moon?”
“Not entirely,” Derek says, and hesitates, and looks around.
“Coast is clear, I promise,” Stiles says, and Derek goes hot again.
“It’s just, people tend to freak out sometimes.”
He’s had enough reckless experiences as a kid to know that trying to show off really isn’t worth it, for the most part. But he’s never known someone who was like him like this.
And—he trusts Stiles. Or, he wants to.
“Is it dangerous?” Stiles says, and Derek shakes his head. “Okay, then why would I freak out? Oh my god.”
Yeah. That’s—a typical reaction.
Derek shifts back, says, “Don’t worry about it.”
“No, that’s not… I just wasn’t expecting a whole second face to sprout out of your face,” Stiles says, and Derek shrugs.
“And it won’t again. It’s fine.”
“No, nononono,” Stiles says. “That was a stupid reflex, that’s all. I didn’t mean anything bad. Your werewolf face is awesome. Can I see it again?”
Derek rolls his eyes, a little, he’s not… They don’t have to go through all the motions of this, it’s fine. It’s whatever, it’s not exactly surprising that people prefer his unshifted face. He’s not winning any modeling contests once he’s shifted, or anything, and it’s probably a pretty weird look even if you are into—that kind of thing. What with the sideburns, and the lack of eyebrows.
But he shifts back, anyway, even though he doesn’t know what he’s expecting. If nothing else, maybe he’s just hoping Stiles’ll get desensitized to how weird this side of him is to even think about.
It tends to linger on people’s faces for a while. Something like, I really wish you hadn’t shown me that. Or even, Well, that was a close call. I can’t believe I almost thought I liked him for a second.
You’d really think that Derek would’ve learned by now.
“Your eyes are gorgeous,” Stiles says, and Derek goes hot again, looks down. “They’re like, actually gold.”
There is that. Maybe. They’re kind of just… ridiculous looking, in his half-shifted face.
And then there’s… the teeth part of it. The fangs.
The sudden speech impediment.
He usually tries not to talk at all while shifted. But Laura still makes fun of how he used to sound. As much as Mom tries to discourage it, which only makes Laura go at him even harder.
He shrugs, and shifts back again. Stiles stares at Derek’s somewhat more pleasant to look at, or at least not objectively off-putting face.
“Are people usually dicks about it? I hate them already.”
That’s really not necessary. Derek shrugs again.
“Are you seriously ashamed of something this awesome?” Stiles says. “You’re a werewolf. It doesn’t get cooler than that.”
“You can fly,” Derek points out, and Stiles says, “That gets old quick. Trust me.”
But he stops, and looks at him.
“The first time is pretty cool, though.”
“I’d imagine it would be,” Derek says, refusing to get his hopes up again unless Stiles specifically spells it out for him, and Stiles says, “I’m just warning you, it can get kind of intimate. The sky, and how close I’ll need to be holding you… The last thing I’d ever wanna do is make things weird, you know?”
“Oh,” Derek says. “Would that be weird? For you, I mean.”
“Well, I might have to stop occasionally to pinch myself,” Stiles says. “Because I definitely dreamed of this moment! But it’s never gone this well. Oh my god. Can I see your face again?”
It’s starting to feel less like a mistake. Derek shifts, and Stiles traces his eye.
“No one in the world,” he says. “There’s no one as cool as you.”
It’s too warm. It’s too… Derek shakes his head again.
Shifts back, as Stiles kisses him.
“Easy, easy,” Stiles says. “I swear, I’m down for both sides of you.”
“It’s just easier,” Derek says. “To—talk to you more clearly, when I’m not...”
“Talking is very optional,” Stiles says, and Derek goes so hot it’s hard to look at anything for a few seconds.
Eventually, he says, “Maybe… if we take it slow.”
Still not really looking at anything. Still not really daring to believe.
“Romantic,” Stiles says, and Derek goes hotter. “I like it. We could have a rooftop picnic, maybe.”
That’d be nice. That’d be… unbelievable, actually.
With Stiles. Who knows, and is like him, so he doesn’t have to worry.
Who’s seen his face already, and it hasn’t changed his mind.
If anything, it’s brought them closer.
“Dinner, then,” Stiles says, and Derek nods. “And a private flight, if you’re not sick of me by then.”
“Sick of you?” Derek says, and draws Stiles close again. “Not a chance.”
It’s a while before he realizes that they’re floating.