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They’re running. They’re always running these days, for their lives and for fun. At least, that’s what Derek’s calls it: fun. Derek has it easy, Stiles thinks, glancing at the wolf running ahead of him. Derek is literally built to run, four legs propelling him forward, sleek aerodynamic body cutting through the wind. Meanwhile, Stiles is sweating like crazy, inhaling bugs, and starting to stumble over roots and branches in his fatigue.
‘I… need… a break,’ Stiles pants.
Derek races back to him and nudges Stiles’ leg with his nose.
‘Okay, fine. You’re right. I need to walk it out. And I do mean walk.’
Derek roams, while Stiles walks until his heart rate goes back to normal, more or less following the wolf. Stiles has no idea where they are, but he trusts Derek will get them home. If he doesn’t, Stiles is having wolf for dinner tonight.
‘You don’t happen to know if there’s any water nearby, do you?’ Stiles asks.
Derek stops in his tracks, perks his ears up, tilts his head, and after a moment of listening takes off through the trees. Stiles starts running after him, then thinks screw it, and slows back down to a walk. Derek will come get him.
He’s right. Derek soon returns to take Stiles’ shirt between his teeth and pull him to a small, clear creek.
Stiles splashes the cool water in his face, then drinks a couple mouthfuls.
‘Thanks, dude.’ He grins and scratches Derek behind his ear. ‘Who’s a good boy?’
Derek hates it when he does that, always grumbles and slaps away Stiles’ hand, even though Stiles knows he secretly loves it. In his wolf form, Derek seems to just love it. He leans into the touch and looks hopefully up at Stiles with his bright blue eyes. Stiles blinks in surprise then continues the scratching all over Derek’s body. When Stiles is done with Derek’s back, Derek flips over so Stiles can scratch his belly.
‘Oh my god, you’re actually just a huge puppy! I knew it!’ Stiles exclaims gleefully.
Derek growls in protest, and nips at Stiles’ hand, but he doesn’t leave or turn over to lie on his stomach again, so Stiles knows he’s already forgiven.
When they start to make their way back home, Stiles grabs a stick and throws, mostly just to get a rise out of Derek. He doesn’t expect Derek to actually run after it and bring it back, tail wagging. Stiles grabs the stick to throw it again, but Derek growls and tugs, making Stiles stumble forward.
‘Oh, that’s how it is, is it?’
Stiles puts a little more force behind it as he tugs again. The branch groans in protest as Derek bites down harder on the wood to get a better grip, his tail still wagging. Suddenly, Derek lets go, and Stiles falls on his ass.
‘Asshole,’ Stiles grumbles as he shoves Derek’s shoulder.
Derek licks Stiles’ arm as an apology.
‘Gross.’
When he’s scrambled off the ground and brushed the leaves and dirt from his shorts, Stiles throws the stick again, this time he runs after Derek as he goes to retrieve it. The run back home is a lot more fun than usual.
~
They don’t talk about the new element to their runs. Derek had glared Stiles into silence and secrecy when they’d gotten home that first time, so Stiles hasn’t even told any of the rest of the pack. But just because he promised not to tell anyone, doesn’t mean he can’t tease Derek about it. Just a little.
It’s pack night. They’re talking about any unusual activity this past week, which, aside from Derek turning out to be a puppy in wolfskin, isn’t much.
‘There were some tracks…’ Derek trails off in the middle of his sentence.
Stiles grins in triumph. He throws the ball up two more times, then hides it in his hands when the pack turns to him to see what Derek is staring at. The wolves have to know Stiles is doing something, they must hear the soft thud every time the tennis ball lands in Stiles hand, and Stiles likes to imagine Derek’s heart is beating a little faster at the sight of a tennis ball.
‘What?’ Stiles asks, feigning innocence, but not fooling anyone.
‘No flirting during debriefs,’ Scott admonishes him.
Stiles rolls his eyes. Scott’s insistence on using “official” terms, which started after watching almost an entire season of NCIS in one sitting, is both hilarious and ridiculous.
‘I wasn’t flirting.’
‘True,’ Isaac agrees. ‘The two of them would’ve already been stinking up the place with their arousal if Stiles was.’
Stiles isn’t sure if he wants to glare at Isaac, or thank him for acknowledging his prowess in seducing Derek. He goes with the glare. Derek directs his own glare at Stiles. Stiles grins and motions for him to proceed.
‘So, there were some tracks…’
Stiles throws up the tennis ball again, pretending he doesn’t notice Derek tracking the movement with his eyes.
‘…but they…’
Stiles throws the ball high, catching it deftly, and with an almost inaudible thud, in his hand. Up and down Derek’s eyes go.
‘…led away from the preserve…’
Throw. Catch. Up. Down.
‘…so it’s not something…’
Throw. Catch. Up. Down.
Lydia glances at Stiles, and he quickly hides the ball in his lap.
‘…we should be concerned about…’
Throw. Catch. Up. Down.
Scott raises his eyebrow, definitely knowing Stiles is doing something to distract Derek, but letting him get away with it, because Scott is an awesome best friend. Also, Stiles can totally see the amused twitch of Scott’s lips.
‘…at the moment.’
‘Are we done now?’ Liam sighs, looking around the room. ‘We all know this town has gone back to boring over the last year.’
‘Yeah, we’re done,’ Scott assures him. ‘Let’s watch a movie.’
Derek takes his seat next to Stiles, wraps an arm around Stiles’ shoulders, and pulls him into his side.
‘I can’t really remember why I started dating you,’ Derek whispers, his fingers reaching for Stiles’, looking for the tennis ball and being obviously disappointed when he doesn’t find it.
‘Because of my angelic smile and winning personality, of course. And also because I said yes.’
‘You did,’ Derek says, eyes going soft.
Stiles doesn’t get the tennis ball out again until everyone’s gone. He throws it from one hand to the other swiftly, then throws it up.
‘So, balls and sticks are what do it for you, huh?’ he smirks. ‘I should’ve guessed.’
Derek snorts and snatches the ball out of the air the next time Stiles throws it.
‘Good boy!’ Stiles cheers. He waggles his eyebrows. ‘You know, I have a stick and some balls you can—‘
Stiles squawks when Derek throws him over his shoulder and carries him to the bedroom.