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“Scotty! Buddy I really need you to come get me from Jungle. I’m kinda a little smashed. Ok A LOT smashed. And I can barely walk let alone drive. And I don't want to ring dad ‘cause he’ll be all like ‘the son of the Sheriff shouldn’t be getting drunk at Jungle’, and I’ll be all like, ‘Dad I’m an adult now and have my own place, so whatever.’ You know? Anyway, can you come get me? OK, bye.”
Stiles hangs up the phone after slurring a message for his best friend. He groans as the alcohol swarms his system. His limbs are relaxed, but his head is swimming, and the waves of nausea are sending Stiles’ pale face even paler.
“Why do I do this to myself?” Stiles grumbles into palms that are holding now holding his head up. “I never learn. The same thing happens every time I come to this stupid, loud, sparkly, place. I mean it’s fun, but why do I drink so much!”
Stiles continues to mutter to himself, talking about the virtues of sitting at the bar, compared to being on the dancefloor, how dancing with a drink isn’t such a good idea, so he doesn’t notice when a car pulls up. He’s now leaning back against the bench, and is talking to the stars, “And anyway, I wouldn’t drink s’much if stupid sexy sourwolf wasn’t so stupid and sexy. And so completely out of my league.”
He hears a car door slam, and feet trip up the gutter. “Like, it kills me when he’s shirtless. I could like come in my pants from how hot Derek is you know? I mean, he’s jussss so bootyful. And he got the booty. You know what I’d do to that booty?” Just as he’s about to answer his own question, he gets yanked up from the bench, and hauled towards an idling car.
“Oh my god Scotty you got here so quick you’re the bestest man. The bestest. Anyways I was just tell the universe how much I love Derek’s booty. Do you love Derek’s booty? You better not Scott because it’s MY booty. Well it’s not my booty, but I wish it was my booty. Hahaha booty is a great word.”
Stiles gets dumped into the passenger side of the idling car, and tries for about a minute to do up his seat belt.
“I don member this being so hard to do.” Stiles giggle snorts. “Hard. Haha I said hard. That’s funny Scotty. Why aren’t you laffing?”
Stiles goes to look at Scott, but his seatbelt is hurriedly being done up, and he’s being pushed gently up against the side of the rumbling vehicle.
“Sometimes you’re so smart Scott. I’m feeling weary. Imma just rest a bit.” Stiles rests his head on the window, breath fogging up the glass. He closes his eyes and enjoys the movement
“Scotty your car’s a bit rumbly. Is that normal? Did your mom getcha new car or sumfin? It sounds like a beast! Like you’re a beast too. Is it a werecar? Bwahahaha I wonder if there’s something like a werecar. I wonder if Derek bit your mom’s car, and then it came out like his Camaro. OHMYGOD SCOTTY that would be so awesome!”
Stiles closes his eyes again and listens to the rumble of the engine. “I think I’m in love with Derek, Scotty. Should I tell him?”
The car lurches suddenly to the right, then corrects, but smashes Stiles’ buzzing head into the window. “Duuuude. What the hell was that? I just braineded myself. Brainded. BRAINED myself. You made me hurt my head, what’s wrong with you?”
Stiles turns his head to look at Scott accusingly, but his head is being turned back towards the window, and his cheek is being patted.
“Whatever. Am I almost home? I need sleep. I wanna dream about Derek. He’s the greatest.”
Stiles slips into sleep just as the car pulls up to Stiles’ place. His pillow gets wrenched away from him as the door is opened, his seat belt undone, and then he’s being forcibly removed from the car. “Jesus Scott, what has gotten into you! You’ve never been this rough with me, you big meanie.” He’s dragged up the stairs, and his keys are removed from his jacket pocket. Stiles snatches them away, and goes to open the door himself, which he surprising is able to do, then turns around to yell at Scott.
The colour drains from his face, then flares red as he suddenly sobers up.
“You’re not Scott.”
Derek shakes his head. “No I’m not.”
Stiles stumbles back. “Oh god. Oh god. Derek. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to spew my feelings all over you. FUCK. I’m so sorry.”
Derek hasn’t taken his eyes of Stiles. His hands are clenched in his pockets, and he’s holding himself like someone who is bracing themselves for disappointment. “Did you mean what you said?”
Stiles swallows, then nods his head. His jittery fingers have found a receipt in his jacket pocket, and is currently shredding it, raining paper onto the doorstep. “I did mean it. Every word.”
“But you were drunk when you said it. How can I believe you?”
Stiles grimaces as he slowly remembers what happened once he left the club. “You want to believe me?”
Derek takes his hands out of his pockets, and then ushers Stiles through the front door. “Go get changed for bed. I’ll bring you in some water.”
“Ok.” Stiles watches as Derek closes and locks the door behind him, then takes his jacket off. Stiles then goes upstairs into his bedroom where he changes into a tshirt and some sleep pants, and sits down on the bed.
There is a hesitant knock on the bedroom door. “Come in Derek.”
Derek comes in with a big glass of water, and some pain killers. He hands them both off to Stiles, who takes them gratefully, sipping the cool water, then washing down the pills with some more.
Derek takes the glass from Stiles, and goes to leave the room. Stiles clears his throat, which stops Derek, and he turns back around.
“Would you stay?”
Derek looks at Stiles as if waiting for more to that sentence, or a just kidding. When none are forthcoming, he nods, and holds the glass up, “I’ll get more water and turn off the lights.”
“Ok. Derek? I meant would you stay here in my room with me in my bed.”
Derek can’t help by smile. “I know Stiles. I’ll be right back.”
Stiles watches Derek leave the room, and hearing him fill up the glass, then turn off all the lights, he makes himself comfortable in bed, leaving the side closest to the door for Derek.
Once back upstairs, Derek hands Stiles the glass, and then takes off his clothes, leaving him in his boxer briefs. He turns off the light and climbs into bed, settling in amongst the unfamiliar sheets.
Derek watches Stiles in the dark, with the moonlight from the window framing the man. He reaches out and cups Stiles’ face, grazing his thumb on the apple of his cheek.
“I do want to believe you Stiles.”
“You can believe me. I know I’m still tipsy, but you can believe me.”
Derek listens to Stiles’ heartbeat and hears no lie. “I do believe you." He swallows, throat clicking in nerves. "I love you too Stiles.”
Stiles sighs, and moves closer to Derek, who wraps the younger man in his arms. Tucking his head under Derek’s chin, Stiles kisses Derek’s warm skin.
“I’m so glad it was you and not Scott who picked me up. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here right now.”
Derek hums. “We should probably let Scott know he doesn’t need to pick you up now.”
Stiles sits up quickly, almost knocking his head on Derek’s chiselled jaw. “I forgot Scott!!” Stiles leans over Derek to grab his phone, to see a roll of messages from Scott. He quickly reads them all while Derek chuckles. Stiles glowers “Stop laughing it’s not funny!”
Typing out a quick “Sorry Scott, Derek got me, he was driving by”, Stiles throws his phone back onto the bedside table.
“I can’t believe I forgot Scott.”
“Well you were confessing your undying love for me.”
Stiles blushes, covering his face with both hands. “I’m such an embarrassment.”
Derek reaches out and pulls Stiles against him, burying his nose in the back of Stiles’ neck. “Yeah, but you’re MY embarrassment.”
Stiles falls asleep with a big smile on his face, wrapped in Derek’s arms, with the wolf not far behind.
When they wake in the morning, Derek looks after Stiles and his hangover, hydrating him, and feeding him pancakes. When Scott comes over to check on Stiles, he finds Stiles laying on top of Derek, in the middle of a fairly intense make out session.
Backing out the door, Scott shakes his head to get rid of the image of his best friend snogging his Alpha.