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Stiles propped his face up on his hands. He was lying on his stomach staring at Derek who had was still asleep, sheets wrapped around his waist and tangled up in his legs.
He was sure he looked the picture of smitten at that moment, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care overly, not now that he and Derek were a thing.
Well, they’d already been a thing for three months, this hot steamy thing, in many different positions, many different times. The thing was, it’d all happened so quickly, one minute they were arguing about how best to attack the Monster of the WeekTM, the next minute Stiles was being pressed up against Derek’s fridge, strong hands trailing up his sides; so Stiles had never really had time to figure out what the thing was.
“Stop being creepy,” Derek murmured, eyes still closed, jerking Stiles out of his reprieve.
“I’m totally not,” Stiles said, flopping onto his back, tugging the sheet from Derek. “Have I mentioned that I love you, by the way?”
“Several times,” Derek grumbled. “I wish I could take it back.”
“You lie,” Stiles grinned, before shuffling down and kissing Derek’s abs. He smirked at the twitch in the sheets. “You totally love me.”
“Uh,” Derek said, slightly breathless. Stiles just swatted him playfully and pulled back, swinging out of bed and tugging a clean pair of boxers from his drawer in the bedside table. “Aw, don’t do that,” Derek moaned.
“C’mon, Derek, we’ve gotta get up, we both need a shower,” Stiles said, getting to his feet and tugging on his underwear. Derek leered at the moles dancing along his hip as he strutted from the room towards the bathroom.
“That’s not a good enough reason to get out of bed,” Derek grumbled. “I’m tired, can we not just have another sex marathon then sleep?”
Stiles turned his head, rolling his eyes over his shoulder,“Get up, we’re out of supplies anyway.”
Derek groaned, gaze fixated on Stiles ass before the bathroom door was slammed shut. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes.“Is it inappropriate to masturbate if you’re in the next room?” Derek called, casting a glance down at his cock.
“Horribly!”
~
“You fancy going to see that new film… what’s it called?” Stiles asked absently as he flipped through the paper. Derek loved lazy mornings where Stiles would sit around in his underwear and a T-shirt reading the newspaper at his kitchen table, chewing on whatever he could reach, while Derek made breakfast.
“Y’know, and it’s got zombies in it,” Stiles said, snapping his fingers without paying the slightest bit of attention to Derek.
“World War Z,” Derek said again, turning the page of his book absently.
“What’s it called?!” Stiles said desperately, dropping the news paper down on the table a waving his hands around his head.
“World war Z, World war Z is the film you’re looking for.”
“WORLD WAR Z!” Stiles exclaimed happily, before turning to Derek, “So, do you wanna go see it?”
“What, like together?”
“Yeah?”
“Nah,” Derek paused. “If I’m gonna spend time with you in the dark one of us better be naked.”
“You’re such a perv,” Stiles grumbled, getting to his feet and switching on the kettle. “So you wanna come?”
“Sure, why not,” Derek said.
“Oh!” Stiles said excitedly, spinning around and fixing Derek with a grin, “I really want to try out that mexican place for dinner.”
Derek paused, sliding a bookmark in his copy of ‘Catcher in the Rye’ and putting the book down on the table. He raised an eyebrow at Stiles, “Are you asking me out?”
“No,” Stiles said, blushing slightly.
Derek grinned, “You’re totally asking me on a date, that’s so cute,” he got to his feet and leaned in, pinching Stiles’ cheek. Stiles flailed at him, glaring.
“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll ask Scott to come with me then, you stay here and read your outdated novels.”
“It’s a classic,” Derek defended.
“Yeah, but no one likes classics,’ Stiles said.
“Urgh, fine, let’s go one a date,” Derek said. “But you’re putting out.”
“Didn’t your mom ever teach you not to pressure people into sex?” Stiles blinked innocently. “I’ve gotta protect my virtue here.”
Derek snorted, “You’re an idiot.”
~
Okay, so Derek was ridiculously nervous. He hadn’t done the dating thing in years, the last time was Kate, and god knows he didn’t want to remember that. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been with anyone after her, because he had, but that was just physical, like scratching an itch, not dating.
He pushed through the racks of clothes in his wardrobe, cursing himself for being such a dick to Lydia, if only because she seemed like the kind of person who could’ve helped him with this.
He grabbed his phone and dialed 3 for Erica.
“Derek, this is a surprise, did you finally take your mouth off of Stilinski’s dick for five minutes to dial the phone?”
“You’re very funny,” Derek snapped. “I need help.”
“Yes, professional help preferably.”
“Erica,” Derek snapped. “Please come help me pick out an outfit, me and Stiles are going on our first date tonight.”
There was a pause, before Erica burst out laughing. Derek decided to wait her out.
“Are you done?” He asked finally when the laughter subsided.
“Yeah,” Erica said a little breathless. “I’m on my way over.”
Derek paced his apartment for the entirety of the twenty minutes it took Erica to arrive, then the proceeding five where she caught sight of him and started laughing again.
“It’s not funny,” Derek whined. She finally managed to compose herself and lift up a shopping back she’d had tucked behind her bag. Derek took it cautiously, peering inside.
“It’s olive green,” Derek said, wrinkling his nose and pulling out the shirt.
“It’ll bring out your eyes, just put it on,” Erica snapped, before turning and rummaging through the bottom of his wardrobe and grabbing a pair of boots. “Now make sure your jeans are black as well, and Stiles won’t be able to keep his hands off of you. I’m gonna go get a coffee, you get changed.”
~
“YOU STOOD ME UP!?”
Derek startled awake at the blaring siren and slamming door announcing Stiles arrival. He sat bolt upright and groaned as he caught sight of the clock. “Fuck,” Derek muttered.
“I was left sitting in that restaurant for an hour waiting on you. Oh, and it’s not like you answered your phone or anything like that, ‘cause no, that would be fucking sensible!” Stiles was stood in front of him, hands on his hips and a murderous look on his face.
Derek tried to stifle a yawn, as he swung his legs down off the couch. Stiles reached out and hit him around the back of the head. “Don’t you act all cute, you stood me up!”
“I… uh, I fell asleep?” Derek pleaded, rubbing the back of his neck.
Stiles scowled at him, arms crossed over his chest, before letting out a sigh. His shoulders slumped. “You are dead in the morning,” he promised, before reaching down and pulling off his shirt.
“Huh?” Derek said, tilting his head as Stiles sighed and grabbed his hand.
“C’mon, Sleepy,” Stiles said, tugging him toward the bedroom, pausing to kick off his pants on the way. “You’re too cute and that shirt makes me wanna do nasty things to you.”
Stiles leant forward and kissed him, hot, heavy with fingers groping at Derek’s ass as they moved backwards to the bedroom.
Derek frowned as Stiles pushed him backwards onto the bed, following him down, with his nimble fingers working his way down the buttons and pushing the shirt off of his shoulders. He had his knees braced on either side of Derek’s hips, and Derek wrapped a free hand around the back of his head, leaning up and pulling him into a firm kiss.
They broke away briefly while Derek pulled off the last arm of his shirt, “Does this mean I’m off the hook?” Derek blinked.
Stiles cackled and grinned down at him, “Hell no. Get the handcuffs.”