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Of course the only available motel room had one bed. Of course.
Stiles sighed, looking over at Derek, who was scowling at the singular bed.
“Well, we’ll just have to make the best of it,” Stiles said, moving over to the bed and dropping his bag beside it.
Derek walked over the the other side of the bed, dropping his bag down and looking across the bed at Stiles. They shared a long, tense look before Stiles forced himself to look away. “Um, I’ll take the first shower.”
Then he retreated to the bathroom, breathing in and out sharply as he tried to keep his feelings at bay. Forcing himself to calm down, Stiles stripped and entered the crappy shower, trying to forget that Derek was in the next room.
Later that night, Stiles and Derek were laying on their backs, wide awake with a foot of space between them.
Finally, Stiles sighed, turning on his side to look at Derek, who only turned his head to look at Stiles. “Derek, we should talk.”
Derek tensed, his face closing off. “What’s there to talk about?”
“Derek,” Stiles said, giving him a look.
Derek sighed, closing his eyes a moment before he turned on his side as well, and then Stiles found himself lost in Derek’s eyes as the silence dragged on.
Stiles was the first to break it. “So. We kissed.”
Derek nodded. “We did.”
“A week ago. And haven’t talked about it since.”
“Until now.”
“Right.” Stiles moved just a tad bit closer to Derek, and was happy when Derek didn’t comment on it. “I just want to know. What did it mean to you?"
"Stiles…” Derek sighed, looking down and away. “I…we can’t…it can’t happen.”
“Why not?” Stiles scowled, annoyed.
“Because. You’re seventeen. I’m eight years older than you. I’m a werewolf. Your father’s the sheriff. And I’m…I’m no good for you.”
“Why don’t you let me decide if you’re good for me or not,” Stiles said.
“Stiles,” Derek shook his head, turning onto his back again and throwing an arm over his eyes. “I’d just break your heart, in the end.”
“How do you know that?” Stiles demanded.
“Because. I’m broken, Stiles,” Derek said, frustration clear in his tone as he lifted his arm and turned to look at Stiles. “I’ve never really had a proper, real relationship. I would just screw it up because I would have no fucking clue what I’m doing.”
“And you think I would?” Stiles said, sitting up. “I’ve never been in a relationship either. We’d probably both be shit at it. But at least we’d be shit at it together."
Derek looked at Stiles, his face unreadable. “You’re still underage, Stiles.”
"I’ll be eighteen in two months!” Stiles exclaimed, annoyed. “And we can go slow. I don’t care about the pace. I just want to be with you, in any way that you’ll have me.”
Derek blinked, and then he was sitting up as well, looking at Stiles intensely. “We’d go slow?”
“Yes. Yes, however slow you want. I don’t care,” Stiles said, moving forward and leaning into Derek’s personal space. “I really, really like you Derek. I want to be with you. And we can figure it out together. You and me.”
Derek swallowed heavily, his eyes falling to Stiles’ lips, up to his eyes and back again. There was a long pause and then he nodded. “Okay.”
Stiles smile was blinding as he leaned forward, kissing Derek softly on the lips. “Okay.”
With that, they laid back down, only this time, when Stiles turned on his side, Derek pressed up agains his back, spooning him as he wrapped Stiles up his arms, pulling Stiles tight to his chest. “You and me,” Derek whispered into the dark.
And Stiles smiled, settling in to sleep. “You and me.”