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Stiles stares up at the apartment building of Derek’s loft, his fingers clenched tight around the steering wheel of his jeep and he’s sure he’s only hearing the protest of the leather. There is a small box on the passenger seat, poorly wrapped in newspaper and hey, he’s not some perfectionist. He stares up at it, suddenly unsure of why he’s here instead of at Scott’s who is trying to make up for lost times by having a Lord of The Rings marathon. He even bought all the extended editions. But Stiles blew him off, stating that he needed to do things. He’s not sure that being on the receiving end of Scott’s infamous puppy face was worth driving hear when Stiles can’t even remember why he was here.
He wrote down a detailed plan. Or maybe he never had a plan, just suggestions. It was a sudden decision. A decision with questionable motives because really, these feelings came out of nowhere. Stiles drums his fingers against the steering wheel, puffing out his cheeks as he mulls over the past few days. He had confirmed that Derek Hale was attractive, is attractive even with his broody, angry, “ohmaigawdgreekgod” face that seriously drives Stiles insane because how does one do attractive? Regardless, he had confirmed it, the borders of his notes filled with badly drawn wolves and broody facial expressions rather than the usual strawberry blonde curls and high expectations. He’s pretty sure Derek Hale just kicked Lydia Martin out of the place in his heart.
He didn’t tell Scott, the mental image of Scott’s perplexed face- the one that more looks like Stiles had taken a shit on his bed and the two of them really need to discuss the faces Scott makes towards him. But that’s beside the point. Stiles blew off Lord of the Rings for this and he needs to figure out how to do this. For one, he’s not sure if Derek even likes him on a tolerance level. He knows they have mutual feelings towards Peter but that’s about it.
“Come on, Stiles. It’s just a dude. A dude like you.” Stiles huffs.
Except Derek Hale wasn’t a dude like him. Derek Hale was a walking Adonis with a bit of a shit attitude but he cared about people (like Erica and Boyd and Isaac) and held this air of responsibility that was reserved for himself, it usually ended with Derek almost sacrificing himself. He was a good guy with battle scars and he was attractive. Stiles knows Derek is attractive. He’d be stupid not to or maybe blind or have some sort of cataract or astigmatism that prevents him from seeing properly. The fact of the matter is, Derek Hale is attractive. Really, really attractive. And a neat guy even if he glares like he has superman’s laser vision and throws people into things, but hey, that’s hot.
Stiles cuts the engine and stares down into his lap, swallowing down the urge to drive away. Even if Derek didn’t like him back, he needed to get this off his chest. Stiles snatches the box from the passenger seat and practically kicks down his driver’s door in an attempt to get out before his anxiety threatens to make him drive back home and sob into his kitchen counter like some sort of dweeb. He hurries inside, ignoring the curious glances he receives and manages to catch an elevator. His fingers tremble when he presses the number to Derek’s floor. Lydia never gave him this much anxiety.
Derek is sitting at his table, head tucked into his palm, the other hand scribbling down notes on a worn sheet of paper. He doesn’t make any sort of acknowledgment at Stiles or at the fact that Stiles is there uninvited. There are no signs of Peter and Stiles has to remind himself that Peter lives downtown. The air feels thick and suffocating and Stiles almost calls the elevator back.
“What do you need, Stiles?”
Welp. “Figured I’d drop by. You know, making sure you’re alive.”
Derek pauses his writing and turns to him. “I’m alive.”
Stiles nods dumbly. “I can see that. Alive and broody.”
There is no frown that follows, no annoyed glare that usually leads to Stiles questioning if his limbs are still in his body. As sporadic as Stiles likes to think he is, his tongue catches in his throat because Derek is staring at him with a careful curiosity. Stiles peers down at the box in his hands, noting the tape peeling in some places. He nods once before walking up to Derek and placing the box in the other’s lap.
“I have feelings,” Stiles starts. “But you need to open that first.”
Derek stares wordlessly at the box before he sets to unwrapping it. As the paper falls away so does Stiles confidence because honestly this is Derek Hale. The box is bare, the lid removed and Stiles watches Derek’s expression, pulse thumping loudly in his ears. It’s a quiet look, the kind that is too private to be used in public. It was a doll, a badly made one, but a doll made of a scratchy cloth with Derek’s comically broody face and wolf ears. One eye was lopsided, tiny blush marks stitched into the skin and if you stare carefully at the mouth there was a fang. The tiny Derek wore an open leather jacket that barely had any detail and little pants and boots. There is a head poking out of the jacket, another head and face that resembles Stiles and he’s holding a tiny sign that reads ‘the best alpha’.
The doll had taken Stiles two weeks to make, the pads of his fingers being the victim of vicious pricking each time he handled a needle. Derek holds the doll, turning it thoughtfully in his hands before he glances back up at Stiles. Stiles doesn’t have time to act embarrassed or shy because his mouth is moving, sound forcing its way out.
“I like you. A lot.” Stiles begins, biting the insides of his cheek. “I like you a lot. I know I can be obnoxious and a bit of an asshole. I got you arrested, wanted you dead, held grudges that seem childish when I look back on it.” He smiles when Derek rolls his eyes. “But you’re a bit of an asshole too. You hold grudges just as deeply and you shove people into things. That’s rude, man. But in your own way, you’re kind and fatherly with this ridiculous sense of responsibility. It took me a while to make that stupid doll. I had to buy, buy, a leather jacket and cut that shit up. It was expensive.” Stiles shakes his head. “But what I’m trying to say is I like you, a lot, even if you’re an asshole. But we’d go good together.”
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t written in the well labeled plan he left on his desk to basically ask Derek Hale out but neither was the idea of Derek smiling. It’s not something flashy and big, it’s one of those uncharacteristically touched ones you really only see from your grandma when you decide to visit her. Derek sets the doll down on the table and looks up, eyes soft and Stiles isn’t sure when exactly Derek didn’t become as broody looking as before.
“Yeah, we’d be good together.”
It also wasn’t in the plan for Derek to laugh and stare down at the down as if he’d never received something so personal. It also wasn’t in the plan for Stiles to kiss him, but he can’t help it and Derek tastes like perfection and the sun.