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As Stiles pushes open the door and steps into the house, he has to resist the urge to yell “honey, I’m home!”, like he does every time. Instead, he just calls out Derek’s name. There’s no answer. Stiles steps further into the house, kicking of his shoes as he goes.
‘Derek?’ he calls out again.
‘I’m out back!’ Derek finally responds.
Stiles quickly walks through to the back door. There, he comes to a stop. It still takes him by surprise sometimes how normal Derek can be. The man is standing by the grill, wearing an apron over tan bermuda shorts and a white tank top, flip flops on his feet. Derek turns to him with a bright smile.
‘I’ve got steak, corn on the cob, and there’s potato salad on the table,’ Derek says, pointing to the table on the back porch.
Stiles tears his eyes away from the happy, relaxed Derek to where the table is set. It looks cozy, with a striped tablecloth, drinks already poured, and even some flowers in a little vase.
‘Corn’s almost done,’ Derek says, seemingly oblivious to the fondness welling up in Stiles’ chest. ‘The steak needs a little longer.’
‘Okay.’ Stiles has no idea what else to say. He wishes he could bottle up this moment and take it with him everywhere, to take it out whenever he feels sad, or when Derek feels sad.
‘Stiles, you okay?’ Derek is suddenly right in front of him, pressing a hand to his forehead. ‘Your heart’s going haywire. How long have you been out in the sun?’
Stiles bats his hands away.
‘I’m not having heatstroke. It’s just—‘ Stiles looks for the right words that don’t give too much away about his feelings. ‘I just like seeing you happy.’
‘Oh.’ A faint blush colours Derek’s cheeks. He smiles shyly up at Stiles from under his eyebrows. ‘Well, I am happy. The weather’s great. My date showed up in time. We’re—‘
‘Date?’ Stiles squeaks out. This is a date? How did he not know this was a date? Is this their first date? Please let it be the first. When did Derek even ask him?
‘Yes, a date,’ Derek says. ‘And this is our second date. The first date was the movies. Remember? I asked if you wanted to go on a date the day before,’ he continues, because apparently Stiles just said all of that out loud.
‘You used the word “date”?’ Stiles ask, just to be sure.
‘Yes.’
‘Oh my g—‘ Stiles buries his face in his hands. Of all the moments for his brain to go off track, it was when Derek finally asked him out on a date.
‘You do want to date me, right?’ Derek asks.
When Stiles looks up, he sees a look of uncertainty on Derek’s face.
‘God yes,’ he says. He pulls Derek close by the front of his apron. Derek smells like sunscreen and barbecue. ‘Can I kiss you now? Because we have three days of kissing to make up for.’
‘Do you really think we’d have been kissing for the entire three days?’ Derek asks sceptically.
‘Well, maybe not just kissing,’ Stiles grins.
Derek raises his eyebrows in agreement, then closes the distance between them.
Kissing Derek feels better than Stiles could have ever imagined. Derek’s stubble makes the skin around his lips more sensitive. Derek’s lips are soft, but move strongly against Stiles’ own. Derek is a little taller, and Stiles keeps going over the pros and cons of standing on his toes or tilting his head up. He chooses for standing on his toes so he can wrap his arms around Derek’s neck and pull him even closer. A soft sigh escapes Derek’s lips, and Stiles can feel it tingling all over his body.
Derek is the one to pull back first, though he doesn’t look very pleased about it.
‘I have to watch the food.’
‘I’ll watch with you,’ Stiles says.
He follows Derek to the grill, then wraps his arms around the man’s waist underneath the apron, presses himself against Derek’s back, and makes himself at home.