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"Your dad let me in." Derek says quietly. The bedroom door clicks behind him gently, his palm resting flat against the wooden surface.
Stiles gives a little smile from his seat by the desk, the corners of his eyes softening. "He's trying, you know? Not easy for him, what with you trying to steal his only son away from him and all."
"I'm not trying to steal anything." Derek says, a little rougher than he intended.
Stiles gives a rueful smile. It doesn't quite make it all the way across his face, but it's there, tugging at his mouth.
"Because I'm already yours, eh?"
Derek doesn't respond. He seems to have taken an interest in Stiles' shoes.
Stiles shakes his head. "It's okay, Derek. You don't have to say it. I know- I know it's hard for you. And I don't blame you for that, I don't. I get why it's difficult and I'm okay with that because-"
"I do care." Derek cuts in suddenly.
For the first time that evening, Stiles betrays open surprise, true and real emotion spreading across his face, in the hitch of his brows and the way his lips part just a trace.
"I do care about you," says Derek, and he's looking at Stiles now, determination set in the thin line of his mouth. His voice grows soft. "I do."
It's for a moment that Stiles doesn't seem to be able to speak, which is a slight surprise to Derek, but he is grateful for it and uneasy all the same. Stiles turns away in his chair quickly, and Derek can hear the rapid pulse of his heart, the way he inhales sharply, in and out, the air rasping over his lips with each draw and release. He's sitting stiffly, and then he rests his elbows on the table as if he's willing his body to work properly. Derek's eyes flicker over his shoulders and the tense line of muscle and the way his shirt drapes against the hard lines of his back.
Derek flexes his hands by his sides, waits, and it feels almost impossible to do so.
And then Stiles lets out a slow and long exhale, his shoulders sagging and he smells different now, not as sharp but something warm and comforting and Derek finds himself mirroring Stiles' action, allowing himself to breathe.
"Wow," Stiles says softly, and it's filled with wonder and amazement and Derek doesn't understand why that is.
Stiles spins in his chair and his face is split with a grin and the scab by his mouth breaks a little. Derek can taste that metallic scent as it reaches his tongue and then it is against his lips and in his nostrils and filling his senses as Stiles shoves himself against Derek, mouth warm and greedy against his own.
Stiles hands are on Derek's face, clasping each side and he's sliding his nails into Derek's hair, raking across his scalp and Derek feels the hard wood door against his back as Stiles all but slams him into it.
Derek lets out a little grunt and Stiles swallows it up as he licks his way inside Derek's mouth and Derek curls his hands over Stiles' waist and holds his squirming, vibrating body steady against his own.
"God, you're amazing," Stiles is saying, hips pressing flush against Derek's, his bony knee pushing its way through Derek's legs and Derek lets him, lets Stiles slot himself perfectly against him so they are touching in all the places that mean something. "Sometimes I don't even know how you're real and thank you, thank you so much because I want you to keep me, even when I'm away I want you to be okay with that, and you are, aren't you? I think that you are but - oh god, don't take your hands away please."
He's rambling, all hot and flushed against Derek and Derek can feel that heat through the denim of his jeans and in Stiles' mouth, which is open and wet and perfect and Derek has to bite, has to catch Stiles' bottom lip between his teeth and claim and Stiles gasps a little as the scab tears but Derek licks at the blood and bites along his jaw, loving the way Stiles just lets his head fall back with a gasped curse.
"You'll wait for me? Won't you?" Stiles asks, breathless and sounding utterly ruined.
"Yes, I'll wait for you," Derek says thickly, words rushing from his lips and he can't seem to get enough of Stiles' skin beneath his mouth, even though he's tasted Stiles countless times before, it's like he's half-starved or half-crazed and Stiles' fingers grip tighter on his hair, tugs him back sharply.
His eyes are blown-wide and nearly black, lips glistening obscenely and kiss-bruised because Derek always kisses him too rough.
"Yeah?" he whispers, breathing loudly, chest struggling to calm itself.
And Derek nods, slowly, willing his heartbeat to steady because he knows that Stiles will try to latch onto that rhythm and right himself.
"Yes, I'll wait. I'll wait for you, Stiles."
There is a moment where Stiles can't seem to stop looking at Derek, straight into his eyes as if searching for something and Derek wills himself to not glance away, because Stiles needs this.
"Okay," Stiles whispers finally, smiling soft and special and then he's laughing into the shape of Derek's mouth, leaning in so that their foreheads rest together. He nuzzles his nose with Derek's and that is positively ridiculous and yet wonderful at the same time and Derek doesn't even care how that can be, just smiles back and holds on tight.