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Stiles doesn't feel any older, but Scott told him he looked it. Longer hair, black-framed glasses perched on his nose - the consequence of squinting at computer screens long into the night. Although, these days it was more of studying for classes as opposed to trying to figure out the latest hole that Scott had dug himself. He still had his long, awkward limbs and he doubted that would ever change. Scott was going to meet with him and hang out in the park - pretend that they hadn't gone to different colleges and pretend that it hasn't been too long since they had seen each other, but his mom stole him for the day. But, Stiles couldn't waste a good weathered day, so he found himself sitting in the Beacon Hills park (more crowded than he remembered with a fresh playground and loud children) reading a book. He would think that he would be tired of reading books by now, especially with his classes, but he enjoyed it. The pages of the book were a little yellowed as he had bought it at a used book store, fingers creasing the pages and the light of the sun bouncing off the cover that read ‘Dragonsdawn’. One of the more popular Anne McCaffrey books. He had settled down to the series and just kept reading them.
Derek knew that Stiles was back in town for the summer, but he didn’t expect to really run into him. At least, not so quickly. He was out for his morning jog, mentally telling himself that he needed to find a new place to run. Ever since the new playground was built, children flocked it like crazy. It was still so new that Derek could smell the paint, hear the creaks of the new swingset that hadn’t been worked out yet, smell the new rubber of the tireswings… He paused on the running track, gravel scuffling under his tennis shoes as he stopped. A familiar scent caught the wind and traveled to his sense and it made him search. It had been a while since he had smelled Stiles, but it still instantly identified as the hyperactive teen. Well, not so much of a teen as an adult now. Wasn’t that a frightening thought? His eyes soon found the boy, a bit surprised at the small, but very subtle changes. He looked older – even if it had only been a few years since he graduated high school and moved away, looking at Stiles it could’ve been five and he would’ve believed them. He seemed entranced in the world of whatever he was reading. He almost felt like it would be wrong to intrude on it. But, then again, barging into a seventeen year old’s window to demand to hide out there could’ve been ‘wrong’ and rude as well. He thought what the hell and jogged up to him.
Instead of just saying ‘hello’ like a proper human being, he reached out a foot and nudged Stiles’ with it. Stiles made a small surprised noise, but still seemed to finish the sentence he was on before looking up over the rim of his book. He didn’t exactly know whom he was expecting to see there, but it definitely wasn’t Derek. His eyebrows rose a little bit and he marked his place in his book by dog-earring it and lowered it into his lap, folding both hands over it. He was unsure of how to greet him, and finally settled on a greeting that was sure to make all of his English professors proud, “Hi.”
“Hey, Stiles,” Derek replied, running the back of his hand across his forehead to clear the sweat that was there. His voice was a little breathy and his face was flushed and it was clear to Stiles that Derek had been running a lot. Nothing new, except he was just running for the hell of it instead of running for his life. He hadn’t seen Stiles in a while and honestly it was a bit of a surprise to see him there, even if he knew he was in town. Beacon Hills might’ve been small, but it wasn’t that small. “So, you’re back for the summer I’ve heard?” he asked him.
Derek was making small talk. Stiles’ past seventeen year old self thought it was hilarious. However, he just nodded a bit at that, moving his book off of his lap and onto the old wood of the bench beside him so that he could cross his legs. A fleeting thought about the bench crossed his mind – if they replaced the playground, why not replace the benches too? “Yeah, Dad kept calling and bugging me about coming back around finals and I finally agreed, partially so I could study in peace. But, it’s good to see him again. Also, Scott is back for half the summer, and since I haven’t seen him in a while either...” he ended with a half shrug.
“That should be nice, spending time with Scott again. I know it’s been hard on the both of you to be apart.” Two opposite sides of the same book end, ever since they were kids. Going off to separate colleges almost felt like a breakup of sorts. Derek dropped himself to the grass at that, stretching his legs out a bit, “How is Scott anyway?”
Stiles was still a little unsure of why Derek was talking to him, and why their conversation was lasting so long. Before he went off to college, they only had lengthy conversations that was werewolf or supernatural related. “He’s alright. Took him flunking a few classes to really get a hold on college. Just got dumped by girlfriend number five and I wouldn’t be surprised if Allison has at least six very heartfelt messages on her answering machine by now.”
Derek chuckled softly at that before, “I’m glad you’re back for a bit, how many semesters do you have left?”
Stiles rose his eyes from Derek, all too aware he had been watching his thighs in the shorts and the way the sun light caught the beads of sweat, and distracted himself by focusing on a swingset. This swingset was a little closer, and children were ignoring it. Because, unlike the rest of the playground, it wasn’t new. The once yellow colored poles and railing holding it up were now an orange color. The paint was chipping and it was littered with rust – as was the chains. He could remember summers of his mother pushing him in it and singing a nonsensical rhyme – it made him smile a little. Before he looked back to Derek and, “You’re glad,” echoed from his lips with a bit of disbelief. “It depends on whether I pass all my classes or not. If I stay on track to graduate, it should be just four more.
“Halfway there, then,” Derek mused, standing up and stretching his back a little – and Stiles was totally not staring at the sliver of skin that was exposed by Derek’s shirt riding up. “Of course I’m glad you’re back. It’s been a while. The wolf politics have been kept to a minimum and it’s been really quiet around here. I seem to see the same set of faces all the time, I guess it’s just nice to see an older one for a change.”
Stiles gave a noise to show that he was considering what Derek had said, “I was under the impression that you were ecstatic when I left – seeing as you never stopped acting like you wanted to rip my throat out.” And, for good measure, he added with a shit-eating grin, “You know, with your teeth.”
Derek laughed, and shit… why did it sound nervous? This was Stiles fucking Stilinski. The young boy with the awkward limbs and the smart mouth. The boy with the buzz cut and the curious honey eyes. Except- he didn’t have that buzz cut and he didn’t look quite as awkward anymore. He had, however, forgotten about that particular threat. “I was dying when I said that to you, that means you’re required to forgive me.”
Stiles merely rolled his eyes at that, shaking his head before changing the subject, “What have you been doing with yourself lately?” It occurred to Stiles that Derek could’ve just been lonely. With the pack going their separate ways for college and just living their life…. And Derek still here in Beacon Hills. “It has to be more interesting than classes.”
Derek rolled his shouldered one last time before moving to sit next to Stiles on the bench, Stiles moving a bit to accommodate the wolf. “Well, a couple of months ago I finally finished the renovations on the house. Got it inspected and got the ‘okay’ to move in about a month ago.” He gazed off across the park, watching a particularly loud toddler squealing and flailing as her mother chased her. “Since then, I’ve been doing a few finishing touches and making it home again.”
Stiles smiled just a little, humming slightly, “Well, that’s good. Tried your hand at interior design, or did you get help?”
Derek absently rubbed at the back of his neck, “I would say it has more of the mismatched-furniture slash bachelor pad type thing going on, but it’s interesting because it’s actually a five bedroom house.” He looked over at Stiles, chuckling just a bit, “Decoration is not my forte, that is the conclusion I’ve come to in the past few weeks. But, it’s kept me busy.” Derek had told himself many times Laura would’ve been good at this.
Stiles laughed a little himself, nodding in complete understanding, “Dude, you should see my apartment. It looks like Hurricane Thrift Store had a field day in it.” Stiles had gotten the majority of his furniture and other random assortments of stuff from yard sales and thrift stores. A plaid sofa taken right out of the 70s. A recliner that always smelled of cigarette smoke no matter what he did and what candles he burned. A SNES that sat alongside his 360. Though, his expression faded a little, “I didn’t get any roommates, so… it’s a bit quiet. And you can imagine… it’s a little new to me. The quiet.”
Derek watched the frown cross Stiles’ face, “I’ve been through the same thing. You get so used to the daily chaos, and then once it’s gone it’s a pretty substantial transition. It gets easier over time – not that that’s a good thing,” as he spoke, he fiddled with the edge of his shorts, “But, then, that’s the easy way out – getting used to it. Because then you find yourself getting quite grumpy when you’re thrust back into that chaos again.”
“You mean there’s another side to Derek Hale than being grumpy?” he teased lightly, almost affectionately. With a shrug, “Yeah, I mean, I try not to spend too much time in my apartment if I can help it. Coffee shop. Library. Campus events. Even parties. Anywhere there is people.”
Derek nodded, “Keep that up then. Don’t end up a sour old man like me. People end up scared of you and then you suddenly find you lack the social skills to fix it. It’s a total bitch if you ask me.” Derek didn’t notice that he had leaned in a bit closer. And neither had Stiles.
“People afraid of me?” he asked with a laugh, switching which legs were crossed and accidently bumping one of Derek’s feet in the process. “Yeah, that’ll like… never happen. I lack the proper wolf demeanor for that.” His eyes then focused on a kid that was being comforted and cooed by his mother after falling out of a tireswing and scrapping up his knees on the ground. Derek’s eyes followed Stiles’ gaze, and he felt a tight feeling in his chest as he realized just how isolated he had made himself.
He turned back to Stiles, “You don’t have to be a wolf to scare people, it’s usually just my human nature that scares them off."
Stiles gave another smirk, “Never scared me off.” Truth be told, as dangerous as it was, things that frightened Stiles intrigued him. At first, when they thought Derek was a murderer, he was a little frightened of him. But that slowly faded and was just replaced by more interest. In all shapes and forms – because, hell. He was a teenager. But, that was just it. He was a teenager and of no interest to Derek Hale.
As the wind blew past them, it caught Stiles’ scent and brushed it past Derek, Derek inhaled softly. It had barely changed, and it was somehow something he had missed constantly smelling over the past few years when the kid was in places he shouldn’t be. “Are you sure about that?”
Stiles rose his eyebrows a bit, “Come on, I clearly remember sticking my nose in things whenever and wherever I could.”
“I remember,” he said with a small groan that echoed how annoying the kid could be at times when he pried places where he didn’t belong. He fell quiet for a moment before, “What are your plans for the rest of the day?"
Stiles picked up the book, waving it around for a moment wildly – so much so Derek couldn’t pick out the title if he tried. He lowered it once more, “You’re looking at it. Scott and I were going to hang out, but his mom ended up stealing him instead. So…” he trailed off .
“Well, I need to head home and take a shower so I don’t smell like a gym all day, but I was planning on grilling a few burgers for lunch…. If you wanted to join me?” Derek mentally frowned when he felt his heart rate pick back up. What the hell was wrong with him? This was Stiles. “I put in a porch and patio, as well.”
It was a beautiful day out and it was practically begging for someone to light up charcoal and put a few burgers on the grill. He grinned at the thought of it, “That sounds wonderful, actually. If my company wouldn’t be too much of a bother. I could head home and change real fast into something more comfortable and you could text me when you’re ready?”
“I’m going straight home and I should be more than a half an hour. Just head over when you finish,” he said, pulling himself to his feet and wondering why he was so excited.
Stiles nodded and stood himself, picking his book up and withdrawing his keys from his pocket, “Will do,” he said. He gave Derek a small wave and made his way over to his trusty Jeep that he still drove. He pulled himself into the driver’s seat, turning the keys to make the engine roar to life before driving home.
Derek made it home fairly quickly, stripping himself and showering off the sweat. After he dried off, he dressed in shorts, a wife beater, and flip-flops. Yes, Derek Hale now owned flip-flops. It felt so incredibly human that he had caved and bought a pair, though with this weather it seemed the logical choice. Stiles would be sure to get a kick out of it. Although, they weren’t the cheap plastic ones teenage girls sported. They were nice, the straps leather, and an earthy brown color. So, it was with still wet and mussed hair that he heard Stiles’ Jeep pull up and idle outside his house before the engine shut off.
He walked out onto the front porch, giving Stiles a half aborted wave. “Hey,” he greeted as Stiles withdrew himself from the car. “Welcome to my home.” The work he had done on it was his pride and joy. It wasn’t much, but it was his. It was what he had to show for his personal accomplishments in the past few years.
Stiles had to refrain from making an MTV Cribs reference as he took in the appearance of the newly renovated Hale home. He was wearing jean shorts, cut off Converse, and a tshirt he hadn’t worn since his senior year of high school. “It looks really nice,” he told him, voice laced with honesty as he walked up the stairs and joined Derek on the porch. “Has a bit of a southern feel to it, you know? Like… Tennessee-Georgia, kick back barefoot on the front porch barefoot and drink sweet tea, feel?” Come to think of it, that sounded wonderful. Sitting barefoot on the front porch. The wood of the panels warm under his feet and the sweet tea cool in his mouth. Derek sitting beside him rambling on about how hard it was to renovate – wait. Stiles forcefully stopped that train of thought in its tracks.
Derek gave an amused noise, looking around, “It does?” he asked, “Not what I was exactly going for, but I suppose it makes sense since I had no idea what I was doing.” He turned and entered the house, listening and hearing Stiles follow him, “Do you want a beer or anything to drink?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Just don’t start talking like a hick or anything,” he teased. (“I would never!”) It was such a large space for one man… “A beer would be great.”
Derek reached into the fridge and grabbed two beers, turning to hand Stiles one before popping the top on his own and tossing the bottle cap in the sink. Stiles took his by the neck with a small mumble of thanks and twisted the top off his own before taking a short, experimental sip. Better than the junk in cans that sat in his own fridge.
“How hungry are you?” Derek then asked as Stiles lowered the bottle.
“Let me put it this way, I forgot to eat this morning because Dad was too busy telling me how much he missed my morning grumpiness.”
“You’re grumpy in the mornings?” He asked, picturing a just-waking Stiles, rolling over and groaning. Running a hand through his sleep ruffled hair and just not wanting to wake up. He pushed that image from his head as he bit down on his bottom lip.
“I’ve been known to throw things in protest of getting up,” he informed him.
Derek gave a soft chuckle, withdrawing the meat, cheese, and condiments from the fridge and closing it with a foot, heading for the door with an oddly cheery, “Food coming up.” He was glad to finally be sharing his house with someone, even if it was just for lunch.
Stiles followed Derek out, taking another small sip before, “Do you want some help? I mean, I haven’t grilled since Mom was alive and it was just more of me handing things to Dad since I was still too short to properly reach the grill, but…”
“Of course you can help,” he answered, grinning at the thought of him and Stiles working together to cook a meal. He laid what was in his arms down on the side of the grill before, “I’ll be right back. I’m going to grab some corn and we can grill that too.” He turned and went back into the kitchen, returning a few moments later. Something about Stiles grin when he returned caught him off guard and his beer tumbled from his grasp. He managed to grab it with a hand, laying the corn down with another, but not before half of it got on his shirt. “Well shit,” he laughed with a shake of his head.
A loud bark of a laugh left Stiles’ lips as Derek soiled his shirt, laughing a bit harder as Derek laughed. Derek internally cursed himself for being so clumsy. It was just… Stiles looked so happy to be on the back porch with him with a beer in hand and the weather just right… Derek rolled his eyes at the male’s laughter and peeled his tank top off without hesitation, wadding it up and using it to wipe the beer from his abdomen. He looked up in time to catch Stiles jerking his eyes away.
As the shirt was stripped off, Stiles couldn’t stop himself from raking his eyes across Derek’s exposed chest. Of course, Stiles had seen Derek topless many, many times in the past – he once thought that he had an antipathy against shirts. But him shirtless was usually always accompanied by a scowl of some sorts and he was afraid that Derek could’ve very well bitten his hand off. But right now… Derek’s toned, solid chest was achingly within touching distance. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and turned over his shoulder, “Shouldn’t we start the food?”
Derek tossed his shirt to the side, not bothering with getting another one. It was a nice day. “I say we should.” He stood, ruffling Stiles’ hair as he brushed past him to light the gas.
Stiles felt his breath catch unwillingly in his throat as Derek’s fingers carded through his hair, raising a hand to straighten it out (not that it was straightened out in the first place) before joining him by the grill.
Half an hour later, the food was cooked and consumed and both of them had blown through a beer or two more. It was a great afternoon and the conversation flowed easily. Which Stiles felt was strange because, before, Derek seemed to hardly be able to stand being in the same room with him. Derek talked about renovations as Stiles just talked. Because that’s what Stiles did. Talked about classes. His teachers. His friends and apartment. Told him horror stories about his freshmen year and that time he woke up with a pig in his bedroom wearing some chick’s thong.
Derek asked, “How’s your social life at college? Date anyone?”
Stiles couldn’t help but laugh at the question, “I apparently still repel people. There was one guy, Chap, but it was off and on for a while before I realized he was just a shitface and cut it off.”
Derek frowned a little, “Shit happens. You live, you learn.”
Stiles gave a shrug that was accompanied by a small gesture before he took another drink of his beer and not-so-subtly let his eyes entertain that Derek still had not replaced his shirt.
Derek soon stood, offering Stiles a hand, “I feel bad for not giving you a tour already,” he said, “Shall we?”
Stiles eyes fell on Derek’s hand and a small smile quirked at the side of his lips as he took it, pulling himself to his feet. Derek made a note of how Stiles’ hand didn’t pull away until a few paces later.
As they walked, Stiles tucked his free hand into his pocket. Mostly to keep himself from giving into the impulse of reaching out and trailing a hand down Derek’s back. How had he never noticed the enticing way Derek’s muscles in his lower back moved? The way his muscles flexed up near his shoulders. He felt a warm twist in his stomach that reminded him very much so that he was an adult now.
Derek went through the downstairs first before leading Stiles upstairs last – to his bedroom. He gestured to it and moved to keep walking, but Stiles seemed to be interested in the eclectic design of it. “What do you think of it?” he asked, suddenly strangely self-conscious of the room. Stiles’ eyes were just catching the massive 4-poster bed Derek had built, the finish a warm, dark brown. It was draped with fabric and had a gray down comforter.
Derek’s room, to Stiles, had a warm feeling to it. It smelled very much like earth and Derek. “It’s nice,” he replied finally with a nod.
“Yeah,” Derek replied lamely, watching Stiles so intently that the boy instantly noticed. Stiles’ eyebrows furrowed inwards and his grip on the beer bottle still in his hand faltered. “Oh, screw this,” Derek said in a voice that was hardly audible before he was stepping forward, lightly grabbing the side of Stiles’ head to pull him inwards for a kiss. He heard a gasp, and he wasn’t sure whom the sound had come from.
Stiles’ heart skipped a few beats and his breathing wavered when Derek’s lips were suddenly on his. A noise of surprise keened out of the back of his throat and it took an amazing effort from him to not drop his beer. He felt around with the glass blindly until it collided with a solid object. He fumbled for a moment before resting it down, confident that it wouldn’t fall. Derek tasted like beer, almost burnt burgers, cheese… and a taste that was unique to Derek. Using the still slightly moist hand that had been previously holding to his beer, he let his long fingers ghost across the small of Derek’s back before resting it there more fully and using that to pull him a little closer.
Derek’s hand slid up the back of Stiles’ shirt and brushed against bare skin, pulling away just for a moment to breathe, looking down at Stiles. Stiles wasn’t too much shorter than Derek, just enough for Stiles to be able to look up at him through his lashes.
And suddenly, for the moment, his large home didn’t feel like it was missing anything anymore.