Work Text:
“Oh my goooooooood,” Stiles groans as his hands itch to take off his headphones, thereby saving his ears from the monstrosity that is Kate Argent’s voice. It’s been twenty minutes of her alternating between bitching about the echo reverberations in the theater and caterwauling her way through the worst song he’s ever heard. Seriously, if he wasn’t getting a college credit for being the sound tech he would have bailed out after the first week. But here they are, two days from opening night, and Stiles can’t wait until he can burn the memory of this entire experience out of his brain.
“I have to go down there, don’t I?”
Well, maybe not the entire experience.
“I don’t know,” Stiles slides off his headphones and turns away from the soundboard, “I think we have at least another hour before Kate gets tired of her own voice.” Derek grins at him, broad shoulders filling up the doorway as he leans casually against the frame. It’s a sight Stiles has gotten accustomed to over the past month, and the one thing from this ordeal he’s actually going to miss.
“If we’re waiting for that to happen I could be up here for days…” Derek says, easing his way into the room. There’s not a whole lot of space so he takes the only other chair, causing their knees to brush against each other as Derek swivels to look at the controls. “I still can’t believe you know what all these do.”
“Hey, we’ve all got our skills. There’s a reason I’m up here and you’re down there.” Derek snorts at that, fingers gliding gently over the knobs and sliders, careful not to disturb anything.
“Yeah, the only reason I’m down there is because Kate didn’t want to kiss Greenberg in the final scene,” he withdraws his hand and crosses his arms over his chest. Stiles watches him, eyebrows pinched in confusion.
“Dude, what are you talking about?”
“She told me,” he tucks his chin into his chest, as though trying to make himself smaller, “said that’s why I got the part.”
“And you actually believed her?” Derek shrugs, eyes resolutely facing forward, and just, no. “Derek, as someone who has been forced to listen to every second of this god-forsaken musical, repeatedly, let me tell you the only reason I haven’t torn my ears from my head is you.” His cheeks burn with the confession but his eyes never leave Derek’s face, watching as the other boy’s eyebrows twitch before he glances back at Stiles.
“Yeah?” And god, he sounds so insecure. Never in his whole high school career would he have ever guessed Derek Hale, captain of Sports, winner of Homecomings, would be seeking any sort of validation from Stiles. And yet…
“Yeah dude, I mean, when you showed up at auditions, I thought you were there as like, a joke or something, maybe you’d lost a bet, I don’t know. But then you sang, and, shit man, I really hoped it wasn’t a joke, and there’d be something to save this shitpile of a show.”
“It’s not that bad…” Derek starts, but a glance at Stiles’ unimpressed face has him laughing, “yeah, you’re right, it’s bad.” He grins ruefully, shaking his head a little, “I honestly don’t even know why I tried out.” He says, unfolding his arms to run a hand through his hair, “I think it was just, senior year, you know? And I’ve always done what I’m supposed to do, what I’m told to do, and with the scholarship I’m not going to have any time next year, and I just wanted…” he pauses, face a glorious shade of pink, as though just realizing everything he’d just said.
“Wanted to do something for you?” Stiles finishes for him, and Derek nods, nose practically brushing against his and god, when did they get so close? He can see every fleck of color in Derek’s eyes, every individual eyelash, every-
He’s honestly not sure who moved first, all he remembers is the feel of Derek’s lips on his, the softness of his hair between his fingers, the strength of Derek’s hand as it held onto his hip, flexing, urging him closer without forcing him to move. The choice is entirely up to him, and Stiles takes it, chair falling backwards as he pushes forward, straddling Derek without breaking the kiss. Derek grunts at the addition of Stiles’ full body weight, and Stiles is about to apologize when he’s tugged closer, allowing their groins to rub up against each other, and fuuuuuuck, nothing’s ever felt this good before. Derek’s hands are rubbing up and down his back, over his ass, and Stiles presses down a little harder, making Derek jolt and hiss, hand hitting something on the control board.
“It’s okay,” Stiles mumbles against his mouth, “I’ll fix it later.” Derek nods, hands trailing down his sides and cupping his ass again. Stiles can’t help but grin, his own hands busy with exploration. Pecs and abs and biceps and muscles, good god, so many muscles. Derek moans a little as he brushes a thumb over his nipple, so he does it again. He wishes he could pull Derek’s shirt off but they’re still at school and the door’s not even closed and maybe he can just slip a hand under the fabric and-
“STILINSKI!!!” Stiles falters and falls off Derek’s lap, scrambling for the headphones that connect him with the auditorium, sound of Finstock’s voice and the throbbing in his tailbone enough to kill his boner.
“Geeeez Finstock, way to kill the damn-” he follows the practiced motion of flipping on the speaker switch, and blanches when his fingers brush against... nothing. There’s nothing to flip. Which means the speaker’s already on. “Oh fu-”
“STILINSKI! YOU AND WHOEVER YOU’RE UP THERE WITH, GET YOUR ASSES DOWN HERE NOW!” Stiles flips the switch off, falling into a heap on the floor.
“Well, not exactly how I pictured coming out,” Derek says, attempting to smooth down his hair. Stiles gives him a horrified look, grabbing his ankle as though that could stop him from leaving.
“You do not have to go down there with me. I’m more than willing to take the heat for this. You can just... say you were in the bathroom or something.”
“And you were making out with who, then?” Shit, he hadn’t thought that far out. There’s probably someone out there he could pay to pretend they’d been caught sucking face with him. Derek didn’t have to be implicated. He’s about to say as much when Derek kneels down next to him, cupping his jaw so tenderly Stiles kind of wants to die. “It’s okay. Besides, it’d be weird if you say you were kissing someone else and then started dating me tomorrow.”
“We- you want to date me?”
“I thought- did you think this was just one-” Stiles presses forward, cutting him off the best way he knows how, but ends up ruining the kiss a little because he can’t stop smiling.
“STILINSKI!!!” And good god, even through the headphones that man’s voice could end an orgy. Stiles pulls back, allowing Derek to help him back to standing.
“You’re sure?” He asks before walking out the door. Derek grabs his hand, thumb brushing against his knuckles.
“C’mon, let’s go face the music.”