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“Huh,” Stiles hummed, voice cutting through the silence of the car and he turned away from the window and shifted in his seat, as though gearing himself up for something. Derek flicked his gaze towards him and then back to the road in front of them. He didn’t say anything but his eyebrow rose in question.
“I was just thinking,” Stiles said, “Do like, do werewolves see color?” He asked. Derek shot him a suspicious sort of look, brows knitted together. “Cos, like I know dogs can’t,” Stiles explained. Derek scowled at him and Stiles’ own brows shot up his forehead in expectation.
“I’m not a dog, Stiles,” Derek snapped, shifting in the driver’s seat, hands clenching and unclenching around the steering wheel and ignoring him pointedly.
“I know that, Derek,” Stiles groused, annoyed. “I’m not…I didn’t say,” he huffed a sigh of frustration and sat back in the seat heavily, shaking his head and staring out at the scenery flashing by. Derek still didn’t answer the question. Stiles let a moment pass in silence before he straightened once more in his seat, legs falling open, feet flat on the pristine floors of the front seat of Derek’s Camaro. He turned his body then to take in Derek, who was pointedly ignoring him, though Stiles could tell by the tension in the lines of his shoulders his indifference was anything but nonchalant.
“Why do you do that?” Stiles asked, staring hard at Derek’s sharp profile, he could see Derek’s jaw grinding.
“Do what?” he asked, playing dumb, not turning his gaze away from the empty, quiet road in front of him. Stiles rolled his eyes. “Get so fucking defensive,” he clarified, “about everything.” Derek looked like he was about to maybe deny it but he just made a sort of scoffing noise instead.
“It’s a stupid question,” he decided, catching Stiles’ eye for a moment before darting away once more. Stiles huffed and threw himself back in the seat again.
“No, it’s really not,” he said, laughing high and frustrated. Derek didn’t say anything, flicked the turn signal up with a sharp jab and focused with a little more concentration than necessary on making a right hand turn. When it was obvious that was all he had to say Stiles continued, voice growing more and more defiant and hard edged the way it only ever did when he felt particularly justified by his anger.
“I’m not asking because I’m trying to…to insult you, or something, Derek. And as silly and human as I am I don’t actually think you’re a fucking animal, okay?” He snapped. “But you are a different fucking species and forgive me if they didn’t cover werewolf physiology in my freshman bio class, and the internet really only gets you so far. And If I’m going to be an actual useful member of your pack I need to know shit, I can’t just…hope my overwhelming ignorance doesn’t get me, or us killed. So, I’m fucking asking because it’s not stupid and I’m just interested okay? I just like knowing things, about everything alright? I’m just like that, and I’m sorry if it’s such an inconvenience to you but like…deal with it.” Stiles let out an angry huff and slunk down in his seat, defeated, arms crossed over his chest, seat belt digging into the side of his neck.
When he risked a glance over, Derek was staring at him with wide eyes, face slack with shock and mouth parted slightly, gaze searching. Stiles lowered his own to where Derek’s teeth were visible between his parted lips before they closed to a thin tight line and Derek turned away once more. An awkward silence descended on the pair of them as they made their way steadily closer towards Stiles’ neighborhood.
“I…” Derek started and sighed, steering wheel squeaking where he was twisting it in his grip. “I didn’t…think about it like that,” he admitted, slowing down slightly to look at Stiles, pausing before he added, resolutely, “and I’m sorry.”
Stiles’ head snapped up to catch Derek’s gaze, mouth open in surprise. “I—uh—“ he tried, “thanks…” they both turned away from each other, eyes fixed determinedly on the road in front of them. Stiles started searching the sky and Derek gave him a confused look.
“I’m making sure it isn’t raining frogs or locusts,” he said and when Derek offered him only a look of bewilderment he said, “Derek Hale apologizing, must be the apocalypse.”
“Fuck off.” Stiles laughed. He fiddled with the seatbelt then, car growing quiet once more.
“Yes,” Derek said suddenly and Stiles looked over at him. “Werewolves can see color.”
“Oh, cool,” Stiles nodded, then a moment later, “what’s your favorite color?” Derek gave him a look and Stiles shrugged.
“Red,” he said, shrugging with a little shake of his head. Stiles nodded but didn’t say anything. “You?” It was stilted and a little awkward but Stiles smirked.
“I like red too, but…maybe light blue?” He decided, watching Derek. Derek nodded a little, tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel as he drove and asked, “like your jeep?” It was just this side of awkward small talk, and the effort Derek was making made Stiles want to laugh, but he didn’t. He considered the question and something flashed in his mind before he shrugged with a small nod and said, “uh, yeah.”
Derek’s brows drew together before smoothing back out and he turned and gave Stiles a long and searching look that made Stiles squirm uncomfortably in his seat, staring away, out the window. “That was a really weird thing to lie about,” Derek said. Stiles turned to look at him and scowled.
“I wasn’t lying,” he said. Derek raised a brow and his lip quirked up in a soft smirk and he regarded Stiles carefully. “That wasn’t a lie either,” Stiles clarified, feeling his own pulse spiking. Derek said nothing.
“I do like the color of my jeep.” Derek just looked at him and Stiles huffed a sigh and shoved his hands between his thighs, skulking in his seat. He thought of Derek’s apology and laughed to himself. “Your…your beta form,” he admitted, but Derek just gave him another curious glance. “When you shift.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “The color of your eyes when you shift…when you were a beta,” he explained.
“That’s your favorite color?” Derek asked. Stiles shrugged.
“I dunno, I mean everything’s cooler when it glows.” Derek gave him a bemused sort of glance and Stiles scowled again. Derek was smirking then, a shifty sort of grin but it was the most sincere Stiles had ever witnessed on him. “What?” He huffed.
“You’re blushing,” Derek told him.
“I am not,” Stiles said, flushing. He could feel it, didn’t need to glance over to the side view mirror to know it was true. He scowled again and looked away, snuck a glance back to where Derek was watching the road, smile on his face.
“Did you want…” Derek started, a couple of minutes later, “were there…other questions?” Stiles stared at him in open surprise and thought back to the list he’d written out during a particularly dull physics class.
“Uh…yeah, like so...” he shifted in his seat once more, straightening up and turning a little bit more towards Derek. “So like for born wolves how does the shift thing work when you’re a kid? Is it an instinctual thing or do you have to be taught to not like, you know, go all glowy eyed and bite other kids when they steal your legos?” Derek offered him a withering sort of look that suggested he regretted the open invitation for conversation. Stiles stared him down with an expectant gaze. Derek’s lip twitched and he turned back toward the road and shrugged.
“A lot of packs, mine included, home school for awhile before being integrated into human society. It’s easier that way,” Derek offered.
“Was it hard? When you were young knowing what it meant to be a wolf with humans completely ignorant at best and hostile at worse to your existence?” Stiles asked. He’d often wondered what it must have been like. Derek shrugged, didn’t say anything for a long time and Stiles didn’t think he was going to.
“Kinda,” he said, Stiles nodded but didn’t prompt for more, but Derek offered it anyway. “I had a few cousins growing up, some were human so it wasn’t…it was confusing I guess when I was a kid but I don’t really remember it, specifically.” There was another lapse of silence before Stiles said, “I have another question,” kind of tentatively.
“Of course you do,” Derek prompted, flicking his gaze over to the passenger’s seat.
“Is puberty different for werewolves?” Stiles asked. Derek turned his head slowly to regard Stiles with a look of incredulity. Stiles shrugged, sheepishly.
“I’ve never been human, how would I know?” Derek asked.
“Your alpha didn’t give you a supplemental education on the birds and the bees?” Stiles asked. Derek just gave him a look.
“Also, I’ve wondered about whether or not werewolves as a species practice circumcision or if that’s like a strictly human thing to do, and actually is it even possible given the regenerative healing abilities?” Stiles wondered. Derek’s eyes widened and he jerked the wheel slightly to avoid crossing into the other lane.
“Seriously?” He asked, looking at Stiles with stunned disbelief. Stiles looked at him expectantly. “Stiles…do you know everything about human biology and anatomy?” Derek asked, then. Stiles thought about it for a moment.
“No, I guess not.”
“Then what makes you think I know everything about werewolves?”
“Because you act like you do?” Stiles argued. Derek shot him an irritated sort of look.
“I have no idea if werewolves can be circumcised, and why would I want to?” Stiles shrugged thoughtfully, then he stiffened in his seat and couldn’t help the stray glance he made towards Derek’s groin, he snapped his eyes away towards the road.
“So, I guess that means you’re not…” Stiles said, trailing off. Derek didn’t look at him, but Stiles could see the eye roll out of his peripheral. There was a pause of silence, broken only when Stiles offered, “I am.” Derek glanced over at him and Stiles glanced back. “Cut, I mean.” Derek’s gaze flicked away.
“I really didn’t ask,” he said. Stiles nodded and watched one of his neighbors disappear in the side mirror, walking their dog. When he turned his attention back to Derek his mouth parted involuntarily, jaw dropping as he took in the rising color in Derek’s cheeks.
“What?” Derek snapped, as though he could feel Stiles’ eyes on him, he turned and scowled.
“You’re blushing,” Stiles said, incredulous.
“No, I’m not,” Derek argued. Stiles let out a whoop of laughter, “oh my God, yes you are, and now you’re blushing harder!”
“Shut up Stiles,” Derek’s nails were extending slightly where they were clutching the steering wheel in a white knuckle embrace.
“Even your neck is red!” Stiles said, delighted. He reached over to the driver’s side, Derek swatting at his arm in irritation, but he dodged it easily. “And your ears!”
“Stop!” Derek tried, jerking his head away, but Stiles’ fingers landed on the curve of his ear, skin flushed and hot. Derek scowled but stopped trying to move, let Stiles brace his forearm on his shoulder, playing softly with the shell of his ear.
“You blush in your ears,” Stiles laughed, soft and amused.
“You blush all the time,” Derek tried, face a pout.
“I’m pale, it just shows more,” Stiles argued. He let his arm fall away, sliding Derek’s ear between his middle and forefinger until he was tugging gently at his ear lobe before letting his arm drop to his side. Another long stretch of silence fell between them, Stiles sneaking glances to Derek who was shifting a little uncomfortably in his seat.
“I have one more question?” Stiles tried. Derek spared a glance from the road, two streets over from his house, and gave a short nod of his head that Stiles took as a go ahead.
“It’s a personal question though, not like…a general werewolf knowledge question.”
“Okay?” Derek looked a little nervous and Stiles toyed with the words in his head. He wasn’t sure if he’d get another opportunity. He inhaled deeply and Derek’s eybrows rose but he didn’t turn away from the road.
“Do you ever like—?” Stiles started, voice cracking and high, he stopped and cleared his throat, flushing. “I mean do you…wolf out when you’re like…” Stiles waited until Derek was looking at him and then he waggled his eyebrows. Derek stared at him, slowed to a crawling pace on the road and didn’t say anything. Stiles stared back until it grew far past awkward, and then he sighed heavily.
“You know? Have you ever had sex in your wolf form? But not like full wolf form…that’d be…I mean if you’re into that, I’m not judging or anything, you should see my internet history it’s…I just mean…”
“Stiles, stop,” Derek sighed. Stiles snapped his mouth shut with a nod. Derek flipped his blinker on again and turned down Stiles’ road, but didn’t say anything, not until he was pulling up at the front of Stiles’ house, throwing the car in park. Stiles wondered if maybe he was expected to leave, but he waited a fraction, looking at Derek, licked over his bottom lip.
“No,” Derek said finally, eyes flicking away from the movement of Stiles’ tongue, catching his gaze. “But…” and then he stopped, heat rising in his face again, tips of his ears pinking slightly.
“But what?” Stiles asked, wondering how far he could push.
“I’ve only…” Derek looked away, gripping at the steering wheel again. “With humans.” There was a pause, and Stiles waited for further explanation that didn’t come.
“So, did they not know or? Cos, like I know sometimes Scott shifts accidentally when he’s…and I don’t want to talk about how I know that,” Stiles said. Derek gave him a look.
“Scott’s a teenager, and he’s only been a wolf for two years,” Derek explained. Stiles gave him a considering sort of look.
“So, you’ve never just lost it then?” Stiles asked. Derek’s eyes widened slightly, and he regarded Stiles with a guarded sort of look.
“Would you want to?” Stiles pressed, gripping the strap of his backpack in one hand, twisting his lower half towards the door, preparing subconsciously to bolt.
“If I was with another wolf maybe…why are you asking me this?” Derek questioned, huffing, staring at him, hard, eyebrows a stern line on his face, lips pressed thin. Stiles shrugged, answered honestly, “I’m curious…So, only another wolf?” Derek shrugged, hands shifting to the gear. “Why not a human?”
“Get out, Stiles,” Derek said then, a quiet demand, something closer to a plea.
“Okay,” Stiles said, nodding, he tugged his backpack into his lap as Derek threw the car into drive, foot still pressed to the break. “Just, I think it’d be hot, though.” Derek’s eyes snapped to his and Stiles could feel his face heat, but he pressed on, “it’d be all about trust. You know? That the wolf wouldn’t like…rip you to shreds, but also that you’re seeing all of someone? The part of them that like…they have to hide,” Stiles shrugged, reached behind him to search blindly for the door handle. His fingers closed over nothing but smooth leather. He palmed awkwardly at the car’s interior while Derek looked at him, his gaze searching and confused, mouth parted.
“Where is the fucking door handle!” Stiles shouted, laughing manically. He turned around, scrambling, managed to close his fingers over the handle; he shoved the door until it flew open but it bounced back, hitting him in the knee as he tried to clamber out.
He made a choke off sound of agony as he straightened, hobbled away from the car, shutting the door firmly behind him without another glance. He made it up the walkway, through is front door, spinning until his back hit the solid oak with a loud thump, his head thunking against it painfully. He cursed himself and tugged the curtain away from the front window and watched the Camaro linger for a moment before pulling away with a jerk, knocking his neighbor’s trashcans over as it took off down the street.
~*~
When Stiles came home from a run the next morning, there was a thick leather bound book sitting carefully on his bed. He didn’t have to question who’d be sneaking into his house while he was away to deliver hand bound tomes. There were colored tabs sticking out from the faded pages and he sat at the end of his bed and thumbed through the book.
It was a book about werewolves, unsurprisingly, from observed ceremonies and rituals to adolescent and prepubescent behavior, to…Stiles laughed, letting the book fall open on a pink tab marking a page dedicated to birthing rites including circumcision. He skimmed the page, eyes widening in horror at the description of what was necessary to combat the regenerative abilities and flipped the page hastily.
Some of the tabs though, weren’t directly related to questions Stiles had voiced, but they’re marked carefully, and he wondered at them. Derek must have thought Stiles would find the topics of particular interest, which he does, actually, but it surprised him, the gesture of going through the book in the first place and the knowledge that Derek knew him enough to guess at where Stiles’ curiosity would lay.
Stiles spent most of his Saturday perusing the book, jotting down notes into a cheap notebook he’d been using to categorize all of his growing supernatural knowledge before typing them carefully up on his laptop. He finished around mid-evening and ordered a pizza as a reward, ignoring his bookbag by his bedroom door chastising him for his lack of studiousness.
“Bigger fish,” he told it, narrowing his eyes. When the doorbell rang his stomach growled loudly and he bound down the stairs fishing the $20 he had tucked into the back pocket of his jeans. When he pulled the door open expectantly though, it was to find Derek standing on his front porch holding a pizza box and looking awkward and out of place.
“Decided to finally join the work force?” Stiles asked, “become a productive member of society?” Derek looked down at the pizza and shoved it into Stiles’ hands.
“You owe me $15,” he said, shoving his now free hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.
“I don’t think I do,” Stiles said, moving off into the house, leaving the front door open behind him in invitation. Derek took it, stepping over the threshold carefully, like he was allergic to front doors and hospitality.
“You want some?” Stiles asked, shifting in the doorway to the living room, watching him.
“Yeah, sure,” Derek said, finally. The silence that followed them into the living room was awkward, Stiles put the T.V on in the background but he couldn’t concentrate with Derek sitting beside him on his couch, licking grease off the edge of his hand, eating pizza like an actual person who did things like hang out casually. He kept replaying their last conversation over and over and he cleared his throat with a cough and looked over.
“I got your book,” he said, at last. Derek only nodded, reached for another slice and didn’t say anything. “Did you want it back?” Stiles asked.
“Eventually,” Derek shrugged, glancing over at him.
“Why?” Stiles said then, voicing his bewilderment aloud. Derek looked over at him, swallowed his mouthful and shrugged again, half-heartedly.
“Thought you might like it,” he said finally, “be interested.”
“I was…am…it answered a lot of other questions I had,” Stiles told him.
“Good,” Derek nodded. But a scowl flickered across Stiles’ face and Derek looked at him, confused.
“Is that why you gave it to me, then? So I wouldn’t talk to you about this stuff anymore?” Derek looked away and didn’t say anything for a long time.
“I know some of the things I asked were probably out of line, and I’m…sometimes I don’t think—“ Stiles tried.
“It’s okay,” Derek said, quiet.
“Why are you here?” Stiles asked, trying to keep the accusation out of his voice. Derek looked at him, mouth twitching like he had too many things he wanted to say or nothing at all, he dropped his empty paper plate onto the table beside the pizza box and stood up.
“Maybe this was a mistake,” he said, and he started to move towards the front entrance. Stiles rose too, darted after him, hand wrapping around his wrist.
“What was a mistake?” He asked, and this time it came out more like a demand. “You never tell me anything, can’t you just for once like…talk to me?” Derek turned around suddenly, and Stiles yanked his arm back. Derek softened at the expression on Stiles’ face, guarded and a little nervous.
“Did you mean what you said, earlier?” He asked. Stiles’ eyes widened and he thought back.
“Which part? And yes…probably,” he said. Derek gave him a searching sort of look, eyes darting back and forth between Stiles’ as though he were looking for signs of dishonesty. Stiles’ heart thumped wildly in his chest and he was afraid for a moment Derek would mistake it for deception.
“What about you?” Stiles asked, Derek’s brows flitted together. “You said…or implied anyway, that you’d never been with anyone you trust enough to…to let your guard down around? To shift in front of, like that,” Stiles tried.
“Yeah? So?” Derek said, and Stiles could see the hackles rising, tone defensive.
“But you started to shift,” Stiles pointed out. Derek looked at him with obvious confusion. “You started to shift, when you were blushing,” Stiles explained.
“That’s because you were irritating me,” Derek said, simply, straightening.
“Or were you shifting because you were blushing?” Stiles asked.
“Embarrassment doesn’t really make me shift, Stiles,” Derek said, annoyed. Stiles stared at him for a moment.
“Okay but was it embarrassment or arousal?” Stiles said simply, watching Derek, gauging his reaction. Derek’s eyes widened, pupils dilating, mouth parting and the faint creep of color rising in his cheeks.
“You’re doing it again,” Stiles pointed out. Derek scowled at him.
“You’re irritating me again,” Derek said, backing up a step.
“Am I?” Stiles asked, stepping forward. “I mean if that does it for you, then we my friend, are a match made in heaven. Cos I’m annoying as balls,” Stiles said. Derek rolled his eyes, glared at him.
“No argument, here,” Derek agreed. Stiles moved closer.
“I trust you, you know?” Stiles said suddenly, stopping. “I mean, I think you know that, by now. We’ve kinda moved past that stage, right?” Stiles asked. Derek didn’t say anything but he shrugged, awkwardly.
“And I know you trust me, okay,” Stiles said.
“I do,” Derek interrupted, earnest, “I trust you with my life, Stiles, but this is…this is different,” Derek tried. Stiles nodded and looked away, down towards the baseboards and the thick line of dust collecting there. When he looked back up Derek was staring at him, but his eyes darted away.
“I think,” Stiles tried, “I think I trust you with both, Derek,” Stiles said and Derek caught his gaze and held it. “Am I lying?” Stiles asked, after a pause. Derek shook his head, shrugged his shoulders.
“I can’t tell,” he admitted, and he looked stricken for a moment. Stiles stepped forward, but Derek took a step back. “And that’s kind of the problem.”
“You’ve never been with someone you felt like you could trust, right?” Stiles asked. Derek gave him a curious sort of look but nodded. “Okay, well, I’ve never been with anyone, ever,” Stiles said. He knew right away it was the wrong thing to say, and Derek took another step back and shook his head.
“Why should I be the one that gets to take that?” He asked, voice desperate and broken.
“You’re not taking anything,” Stiles said, a little annoyed. “It’s sharing something, okay? And even if,” Stiles tried, “okay even if it was like something you took, like an actual tangible thing or something, whatever that is, it’s mine to fucking give okay? So, why should you be the one? Because I want you to be,” Stiles huffed. Derek’s gaze was heavy, atmosphere thick in the suddenly too hot room, “asshole,” he added. For good measure, for the way it cracked through Derek’s veneer and had the corner of his lip twitching.
“Did you mean what you said about…the wolf thing?” Derek asked after a moment, waving his hand towards Stiles and avoiding eye contact. Stiles flushed and shrugged his shoulders. “I figured it was obvious by now,” he said. Derek flicked a gaze at him. “All the awkward boners whenever you go all alpha and everything?”
“Oh,” Derek said.
“Yeah,” Stiles nodded.
“I always thought that was from adrenaline.”
“So you noticed?” Stiles asked, blushing.
“Sorta.”
There was a long an awkward pause, Derek shoved his hands back into the safety of his leather jacket and Stiles shifted on his feet, toe scuffing at a crack in the hardwood floor.
“So, what does any of this mean?” Stiles asked, tilting his head up just enough to catch Derek’s uncertain gaze.
“What do you want?” Derek asked. Stiles shrugged again for what felt like the eight hundredth time.
“You?” He asked. When he looked back up, Derek wasn’t looking at him, but the tips of his ears were bright red, obvious even in the poorly lit front hall.
“You’re blushing again.”
“So are you,” Derek said, looking up.
Stiles smirked, gave another soft sort of shrug and moved forward, Derek stepped back away from the door and met him partway. Stiles let his hands drop to tentatively to Derek’s waist, thumbs looping beneath the waistband of his jeans, grazing against hot skin beneath the layer of his jacket and the long sleeved tee he was wearing. Derek’s hand rose to cup, with a gentle press of his fingers, Stiles’ jaw. They kissed then, space closing between them as they moved in tandem towards each other. Stiles’ mouth opened beneath Derek’s, head tilting, noses bumping, tongues meeting. It wasn’t a long kiss, and Stiles pulled away only reluctantly.
He failed to suppress the smirk that split his face and he laughed, ducked his head. When he looked back up Derek was watching him with a soft expression. Stiles darted forward and kissed him again, pulled away and started moving back towards the stairs. Derek hesitated, glanced at him nervously, eyes widening almost imperceptibly. Stiles stopped, threaded their fingers together and nodded towards the living room.
“You wanna finnish that pizza? Watch a movie?” He asked and Derek looked visibly relieved.
“Yeah,” he nodded, and Stiles smiled, led him back to the couch, where they collapsed in a heap, shifted a bit bumbling before they settled, pressed together, Stiles’ arm slung around Derek’s shoulders.
“So, how’s your bumper?” Stiles asked, voice teasing. Derek looked up at him, eyebrow rising, “Dunno, how’re your knees?” He quipped, as he picked up another slice of pizza.
“Why? What’d you have in mind?” Stiles asked, grinning widely, and Derek flushed again.