Work Text:
MAY
JUNE
“No take-backsies.” Laura sings out as Derek storms in. She’s got a smug smile on her face, setting her mug back on the pink message as she leans back in her specially-designed office chair.
Derek’s face is set in a thin line, his arms crossed, “I hate him.”
“Oh Derek, really. It’s only been two hours.” She stands up and frowns, thinking about his schedule, “Aren’t you usually doing the whole lifty-weighty-muscly-thingie right now?”
“That jagoff spilled my iced coffee all over himself and didn’t have extra clothes. He’s changing into mine right now.” Derek flops down on the couch, his green eyes flashing blue with anger, “He drives a jeep, Laura. One of those crappy ones from the eighties.”
“So let him drive your car.”
“Like hell!” Derek groans, rubbing his face as he leans forward. Laura’s gleeful face is too much for him to look at.
“So fire him.” Laura grins, knowing Derek won’t do it.
“Laura, give me a damn company car.”
Laura sucks in her bottom lip, a bad habit developed by her own determination to get her way.
“Well, Del and I are supposed to do this stupid gala next month to promote the company. If you go, I’ll let you have a company car for a month.”
“Laura, you know I can’t get my license back for another six months.”
“Oh I know.” Laura sips her coffee with a relish that isn’t from her preferred hazelnut creamer, “I’ll think of another favor by then.” She smirks, both of them knowing that he’s already agreed to her terms. Upset, he growls as he rises from the couch and turns around to leave.
“You’re taking Adara by the way!” Laura calls out cheerfully as she sits back down, looking away from Derek's groan. They both adore their younger sister, of course, but Adara is determined to be a famous actress, even if it means having to play at being a dumb heiress. That role included attending anything with publicity.
“I’m not letting you have my croutons at dinner.” Derek informs her snippily, still trying to think of a better retort as he stomps out of his sister’s office, which is now full of laughter.
Glancing at his watch, he has another hour before he needs to go to lunch at a country club. He normally wouldn’t worry, but Stiles made him fifteen minutes late for his morning coffee meeting with Boyd.
Not to mention spilled his coffee.
This partner’s lunch isn’t life or death crucial, but it is outside of the city, in fucking Marin. Anxious, Derek practically stabs the ground floor elevator button as he texts Stiles to get ready. His phone starts buzzing almost immediately.
“What the fuck is NP?” Derek mutters, scowling as he shoves his phone back into his blazer pocket while the elevator descends. It wasn’t like he’d been expecting a man wearing a suit and shiny old-fashioned driver’s cap. He hadn’t been expecting a scrawny kid with porcupine hair and a Superman shirt that had seen better days either.
There was that kid again, grinning at him and Derek just knew that his chatter was going to-oh there it went. Derek swallows his growl, knowing that he couldn’t scare off Stiles. What was even a Stiles anyway? At least Derek's middle name was normal in Bulgaria.
The kid didn’t look any better in Derek’s gym clothes. He had rolled up the basketball shorts mid-thigh and tucked in Derek’s sleeveless black shirt. It made him look a bit like an old man on his way to a beach jazzercise class in Florida, in all honesty.
“Ready?” Derek asks, giving Stiles his patented ‘hurry the fuck up’ look before making the mistake of glancing down to where his shirt isn’t doing a great job at covering Stiles’ collarbone. He can see the younger man’s fair complexion, dotted with freckles and a few moles.
Tragically, Stiles wraps his arms around himself, trying to block out his bare shoulders, “Thanks for the spare clothes, Derek. I’ll have to buy a jacket or at least a flannel shirt so I feel a little more covered up though.”
Derek blinks, yanking his gaze away from one particular mole, confused, “Why?” Stiles has great skin. It looks baby soft and Derek is sure it’ll bruise easil-
Damnit. He schools himself to go back to whatever Stiles is rambling about.
“-not that attractive. Just these blobby brown things. Plus I always think the sun’s going to give me another one and that’ll be the one that causes a life-ending melanoma…” Stiles monologues at a rapid-fire pace, but Derek manages to grasp he’s self-conscious about his moles.
Derek just gives himself one more look, eyes raking from that mole on Stiles’ neck to a dark freckle that plays hide and go seek with the hem of Stiles' borrowed shorts. He's not usually this turned on by knees and Derek shakes his head, deciding he's light headed from the lack of coffee.
"Let’s go.” He brushes past Stiles who scrambles to catch up as they walk outside, “You’re going to find appropriate clothes for driving a senior partner at Hale and Brown Company.”
“No problem dude.” Stiles hops into his jeep, grinning as Derek warily takes the other side, “I got a sweet set up for shopping. See my roommate-”
“After today, we’re using the company car.” Derek interrupts as he unwillingly sits himself back down in the uncomfortable passenger set. There’s a lump digging into his back and it smells far too much like sweat, french fries and whatever crappy aftershave Stiles’ girlfriend likes.
“Sweet.” Stiles starts the car, “Is it one of those classy limos or something? Seatbelt, dude.”
Derek scowls, but reaches to buckle himself in. They had a fucking staring contest over the damn seatbelt and Derek had ended up fifteen minutes late, “Towncar. Don't call me dude.”
His phone rings. Isaac.
“Hey Mr. Hale,” Isaac sounds nervous, “Accounting screwed up our budget. The numbers are all over the place since someone didn’t know shit between three and five. We have to go back and recalculate for the last three fiscal years before I can give you anything useful for the stockholder’s presentation next week.”
“How long?” Derek half barks, growing pissed. This is not good.
He can hear Isaac swallow, “I’m working on it with two other guys. I think we’ll finish by…Tuesday?” He can hear groans in the background.
“I don't want you guys doing anything but the audits we talked about yesterday, you'll overwork yourselves.” Derek tugs at his hair (a bad habit), scowling, “Look, email me the figures and I’ll do the accounting this weekend. Also, tell Laura to fire whoever fucking can’t tell three from five.”
“Hey man, I know a numbers whiz.” Stiles tells him, whipping out his iPhone as Derek throws his to the floor of the car in frustration.
“You’re driving!” Derek yells at him and Stiles rolls his eyes, shoving his phone into Derek’s face, nonplussed.
“Dial three for Lydia. She’s pretty much a human calculator in addition to being a goddess.”
Derek frowns, “Does Lydia like your musty cow in estrus aftershave?” Hopefully the insult will deter Stiles from stinking up future car rides.
Stiles flushes, the tips of his ears turning red, “Just call her. And thank her in advance for saving your ass.”
Derek grins to himself as Stiles surreptitiously sniffs himself, the phone ringing.
“How’s Broody Tightass now?” The other voice launches straight into conversation.
Derek frowns at the inappropriate question, "Is this Lydia?"
“Speaking.” She sounds less bored now, “Who’s this?”
“Broody Tightass.” Derek half drawls as Stiles starts coughing, probably out of horror. The car doesn’t jerk or squeal once though. Really, it’s impressive how smoothly Stiles can drive this piece of crap.
“I see.” He hears her inhale, “I assume you need something.”
Why is he trusting this person? Derek scowls, glancing at Stiles who smiles at him encouragingly like he’s a fucking kindergartener or something. He wants to grab his phone and smack Stiles with it. Taking a deep breath at the irritated sigh from Lydia, Derek explains:
“I have an important presentation next week and our accounting department fucked up. I need someone to crunch the numbers going back three years, focusing on ad revenue and sales profit. We will pay generously for a rush job, of course.”
“Fine.” She says graciously, “I’ll give you the friends and family discount. Give me two days and have Stiles drop off the papers.” She hangs up on him and Derek shakes his head in confusion.
Stiles laughs, “Lydia’s a firepistol.”
“Does she work in the public accounting sector?”
Stiles laughs, “Nah. She’s working on her doctorate for some kind of math theorem. She likes any kind of numbers game. You’ll probably have to let her take you shopping or something as a thank you.
Derek nods, his mind on already on other things. He still needed to find a damn present for Cora.
“I’m sorry for the nickname. It was unprofessional.” Stiles continues, sounding stilted, “You just don’t seem very…flexible.”
For some reason, the word makes Derek think of bending over Stiles’s exposed throat with his tongue, connecting all the little beauty marks spattered over his clavicle.
“I’m not.” Derek informs him sharply, relieved to see the bridge up ahead. Soon they’d be in Marin and Derek could deal with the partners at the club while Stiles went to a mall and invested in grown-up clothing. He reaches over to the radio and turns the volume up.
At least his taste in music isn’t totally awful.
JULY
Derek gets into the front seat as Stiles stuffed his old iPhone back into his pocket. Not that Derek cares, he’s still in the middle of talking to Adara on his own phone,
“I don’t care about visible panty lines. You’re putting something under that dress or I swear, I’m making Stiles stop at Target so I can get one of those damn Barbie cotton underpants Mom used to buy in bulk.” He scowls as he hangs up the call, “Sorry. My sister.”
Derek always thought his parents should’ve stopped after him. Three children is a reasonable amount, average by the standards of western civilization. However, his parent’s decision to saddle him as the middle boy with two girls in either direction was going to cause early onset baldness. Derek could feel the spot forming on his head after every interaction he had with his sister.
“Adara?” Stiles’ voice is a bit higher than usual. Derek sighs, making himself comfortable in the roomy towncar, annoyed by Stiles’ interest. At first, he tried sitting in the back, but he could see that damn mole on Stiles’ scalp too easily and it distracted him. So Derek sat next to Stiles, where the natural resting spot for his eyes was the road.
“A devil, that’s what she is.”
“So, I guess I’m meeting her tonight?” Stiles grins, his eyes bright with amusement, “Seven thirty PM, right?”
Derek frowns, “Not officially. We’ll be in the backseat. You are going to be the epitome of silence. There’s press all over the place and she’s an absolute hellion. I don’t need two distractions on my hands.”
Stiles nods, “Cool. So I’ll park and hang out in the hotel bar for a while. I’ve got some GRE practice to catch up on. Reading Comprehension’s a bitch but hopefully I get through it.”
Derek goes a bit squinty eyed. He doesn’t like the idea of Stiles in the bar. Something could happen (sadly typical with Stiles in the equation). Derek makes a note to get a hotel room. A hotel room might come into use anyway if he needs Adara to make a quick getaway. Also, there's a part of him half hoping that Stiles won’t make an idiot of himself around his sister.
“No ogling Adara of any kind.”
“I would never. I’m the absolute paragon of professionalism.” Stiles preens as Derek flickers over his outfit today-purple pants, yellow and black checkered belt, faded green shirt with a overly muscled green superhero smashing his fists to the ground and a pale yellow dress shirt that was currently unbuttoned. If Stiles gets out of the car, he does button up his shirt. Once he even scrounged out a sports blazer from the trunk.
“Tonight’s dress code is strictly black pants and white shirt for you.” Derek informs him crossly, “Buttoned all the way.”
Stiles groans, “Aw man, I think I left my prom clothes on the floor of a different hotel room.” He grins at Derek, “Damn, that was a night to remember. My date was-” He let out an appreciative whistle as his hands make a crude gesture of a female body shape.
Derek only scowls harder. Stiles smiled like the fucking sun. A very heterosexual sun who had no idea how damn attractive he was when his mouth curled up.
And now Stiles is looking at him, confused, “Mr. Hale? You’re like a half hour early, I haven’t even had to fake an emergency call yet. Where do you wanna go?”
Derek blinks. He left early because-well, Deb had called about the damn underwear issue and now he’d forgo-
“Boyd called and wanted me to meet him at this address to look over some property for the new technology research department in Palo Alto.” Derek rattles off the address from his phone as Stiles groans, pulling into drive.
“Daaaamn, that’s going to be a while…What about your other afternoon appointments?”
“Laura’s dealing with our mother, I rescheduled the dentist, canceled Del and we should be back in time for me to deal with Adara tonight.” Derek pauses, “If you don’t have black pants and a while shirt, I’ll call Isaac to pick some up in your size.”
“I’m not paying for a monkey suit I’m only wearing once.”
“This monkey suit is mandatory for at least ten different occasions in your future as my driver. At most, twenty. Christmas tends to vary from year to year.”
Stiles lets out a sigh, “I’d rather iron some black jeans and-”
“I’ll write it off as a business expense.” Derek folds as Stiles grins triumphantly
“Score. Now I’m set for Scott’s wedding. I’m the best man you know. Do you want to hear my ideas for the speech so far?”
“No.” Derek frowns, scrolling through the specs Boyd sent him, “I was at a wedding two months ago.”
“Ha ha. Not.” Stiles rolls his eyes, not really bothered. Derek’s relieved that at least he can be himself with this idiot and Stiles isn’t running in the other direction. It makes retaining him so much easier.
“When’s the new dentist appointment? You’ve cancelled twice now.” Stiles asked as the pause stretches out.
Derek’s noticed that if it’s quiet for longer than thirty seconds, Stiles needs to make some kind of noise. It’s one of his more annoying faults, in Derek’s opinion.
“August.” Derek frowns, rubbing at the screen. He just got this replacement Blackberry two days ago after chucking the last one at a particularly inefficient parking meter that Stiles was trying to feed. The meter maid hadn’t been pleased but let him off with a warning after he gave her one of his patented Hale smiles.
“Should I stop at Target and get the underwear you mentioned?”
Derek glares and Stiles bursts out laughing, half collapsed over the wheel. All the same, he’s still driving with an expertise that Derek lacks. Something about the man’s combination of patience and hyperfocus made him surprisingly good at chauffeuring.
“Deb told me that Adara modeled her dress for tonight and said something about VPL which is appar-”
“Visible Panty Line, yeah. I live with Lydia, remember?”
“I’d rather not.”
Derek’s expedition to the mall with Lydia was anything but short and cheap. He doesn’t really understand Stiles’ attraction to Lydia, but she does have a razor sharp mind that Derek can appreciate and the pair bicker like an old married couple.
“I can ask Lydia for a different solution to the VPL issue?” Stiles offers
“Deb is on the case. She just needed very firm and aggressive backup.”
Stiles nods, “Cool, cool.” He pauses, “So you have like, five sisters right?”
“Four. Each more irritating than the last.”
“I’m an only child so I’m always sorta jealous.” Stiles admitted, “I always wanted an older brother.”
Derek glances at him with sympathy, “Me too. Especially with four sisters determined to turn me into Dericka.”
Stiles laughs. Despite himself, Derek feels his shoulders lifting a bit as a small smile plays on his face, heartened by Stiles’ laughter.
“My mom’s convinced they’re the reason why I’m gay anyway.”
Stiles’ eyes widen as his hands jerk. He nearly runs over the line but straightens himself out. Derek swears, bracing himself against the dash.
“Stiles!”
“Whoa, uh, sorry man. I had no idea. Threw me for a surprise or a loop or whatever it is. Boy it’s getting hot. Let’s crank the AC!” Stiles is flushed, anxious and his heart is racing.
Derek places his hand on top of Stiles’ long fingers gripping the knob, “If you’re uncomfortable driving for a homosexual man, tell me right the fuck now.”
Stiles pulls away, waving his hand frantically, “No! No man. I’m sorry. I just thought you were one of those nonsexual dudes who ends up as a hermit with five dogs. Trust me, I have no problem with male attraction. Seriously, I mean, men! I could go on all day about dark haired guys with nice sets of abs, trust me.” He glances at Derek cautiously, looking a little anxious, licking his lips.
Derek feels bad. He must’ve seriously scared Stiles.
“You’re forgiven, it’s fine.” Derek sighs, moving his hand to his knee, gripping it. All the same, his hand tingles with the memory of Stiles' as he watches Stiles curl those tapered fingers around the steering wheel.
Silence reigns but there’s an odd sort of look on Stiles’ face as the drive continues. Derek suddenly feels obligated to provide some sort of conversation to get them past this awkward bump, make Stiles look more…Stiles.
“You know, my sister Deb think the same thing about my future. Hermit, five cats and some tiny fishing shack in the middle of the Sierra Nevadas.”
Stiles lets out a bark of laughter, “That’s the life, man. Nothing but walking around in your long johns and whittling toys for nieces and nephews who won’t appreciate them.”
Derek smiles faintly, wondering how Stiles would look in a pair of long johns. Lost in those pleasant thoughts, he doesn’t really think about how Stiles is managing general silence or how tightly he's gripping the steering wheel.
AUGUST
Derek can’t help the half-smile on his face. Cora peers closer to him and he ignores her in favor of shooting an email to Boyd about a potential employee. However, when she pokes his cheek, he half snaps at her, eyes sharp.
Cora grins, reckless as always, “Whenever you get in a temper, your eyes always go bluish, did you know?”
“Did you know that I can mail you to Australia?” As far as comebacks go, it isn’t the best one, but Derek’s not exactly focused on on-upping his kid sister right now. Plus they’re in a cafe and he prefers to keep the sibling fighting private. Especially now with cameras popping up here and there.
Cora settles back into her spot next to him on the couch, “Are you really dating Jackson? Like I saw the magazines and everything but you never tell us anything interesting. Just boring crap like the new research tech building.”
Derek sighed, “We met at the gala and bonded over how dumb everyone else is. He helped me with Adara by distracting the press from her attempts to yank off her pantyhose.”
Cora frowns, “And that’s where you got his number, like the magazine said?”
“Actually, I gave him my card.” Derek shrugged, “I didn’t read the article. Jackson said that his publicist put together a thing that makes us look good.”
“Look good? Laura’s in a state of glee because you’re bringing in so much positive publicity just by being attached to that hottie.” Cora half shoved him, still grinning, “You know, I used to be her favorite.”
“Inaccurate.” Derek sets down his phone, “Look Cor, we agreed to try dating for a month. Then a month passed and we still like each other so we’re making it more public. Stiles will probably be happy about that. He didn’t like having to sneak us around.”
Cora sighed, “Can I visit him on the set of the werewolf movie he’s making?”
“Visi-I haven’t introduced him to you guys yet!” Derek half splutters, though he isn't really shocked by her (or his other sisters) attempts to meet his boyfriend.
“Yeah but I’m more interested in meeting him where there’s an environment that includes his co-stars.”
Derek looks at her, exasperated, “If this is your reaction, I’m not even letting him near the rest of you.”
“Oh Derek, we’ll behave.” Cora grins, “Besides, someone needs to show Jackson the pictures from when you decided to bleach your hair.”
“Cora.” Derek glared at her, as he glanced around the coffeeshop, “Why are you here? I’m supposed to be meeti-Stiles said I had a meeting.”
“Yeah, meeting with me. I called him and asked if I could see you this morning.” Cora fiddles with her coffee, “I have you for another thirteen minutes.” She sighs, brushing a lock of her long brown hair behind her ear in an attempt to look more professional, “Derek, I have an idea.”
“No.” Derek said automatically. Cora’s career aspirations were shorter than his morning coffees.
“Derek” Cora gave him a look and he sighed, half nodding for her to continue,
“I want to have a doula on staff at Hale Brown. I think it could really help us lower our reputation as unfriendly for pregnant working women.”
Derek squeezes his eyes shut, unable to comprehend her idea. This was often the case with Cora, though so at least the sensation was familiar.
“Derek, I really-”
“No, no, I have a family dinner with you guys on Friday. Save the speech for then.” Derek rakes a hand through his head, “If the others go for it, fine, but I’m neutral because I don’t have the womanly experience or whatever shit you guys are going to throw at me if I pick a side.”
Cora sags, “I’m telling you now because you’re the most likely to think of a reason against it so I can start arguing for good reasons.”
“Fine.” Derek sucked in a breath, “It’s nonsensical, it’s expensive, it wastes time, it-”
The spilled coffee ends his list of reasons. Cora swears that her hand misjudged the distance but Derek stalks out, unable to deal with her any longer.
He’s still scowling at his coffee-soaked shirt when he looks up. Stiles is leaning against the car, drinking a milkshake as he texts with the other hand on his phone. Seeing Derek, Stiles shoves it away,
“He-eyyy Mr. Hale.” He’s a bit red and Derek can’t help but wonder how much of him flushes that particular vermillion shade.
“I don’t care if you’re sexting or something.” Derek pauses in thought, “Call me Derek. It’s been three months, you’ve probably earned it.”
Stiles blinks, “Whoa, what a reward for someone who tricked you into hanging with your sister.”
Derek raised an eyebrow, “You want me to take your phone and forward those incriminating sexts to the entire company?”
Stiles scoffs, “Like you know how. Besides I wasn’t sexting anyone.”
Derek nods absently. His denial makes sense, considering Lydia. Derek didn’t see her as the type for sexting, but you never know. Stiles, he knew without a doubt, would send sexy text messages.
“Ready for your dentist appointment, Derek?” Stiles asked as they buckle up in the car. Derek likes the sound of his name from Stiles. It sounds almost reverent but he’s probably overthinking Stiles’ teasing tone.
“Derek? Your appointment?”
Derek frowns, “Is that today?” He starts unbuttoning his shirt. There’s a plain white shirt underneath and thankfully it hasn’t stained through. He tosses the dress shirt in the back, Stiles glancing at it for a second before answering.
“They just rescheduled it for eleven o’clock. Majorie gave me the heads up.” Stiles grins as if having unfoiled a nefarious plot, “So I moved your 11:30 to three o’clock.”
“What was my el-Jackson.” Derek glanced at him, “You moved my date to three o’clock?”
Stiles nodded, “I told him you had a dentist appointment and suggested three o’clock. He said it was fine and he’ll meet you at that place in Chinatown where you guys had your…second date.”
Derek frowns, “Are you okay? You sound weird.”
Stiles clears his throat, “Sorry. Just having sympathy pains for you having to go to the dentist.”
Derek scowls, “Alright. Uh, after this just drop me off at the Chinatown restaurant and Jackson will take care of me.”
“Yeah?” Stiles smiles, “I’ll be able to get dinner with Scott and Allison then. Awesome.”
Derek smiles in return. He always felt bad whenever Stiles had to skip those dinners.
“Y’know, I read-saw this magazine somewhere that said you might be moving in with him? You’ll let me know if you change addresses, right? Gotta stay on top of that.”
Derek scoffs, “No. But we were thinking about renting one of those beach cabins for Labor Day.” He shrugged, “Don’t really understand why people read those things. We aren’t that interesting.”
“No,” Stiles sighs, “I-yeah-no.” He clicks his tongue a few times, “So you’re going to the beach over Labor Day?”
Derek nods, “I like to surf.”
“Oh me too.”
Derek looks up at Stiles outburst, surprised, “You surf? I didn’t think you encouraged any kind of outdoor activity with that skin.”
Stiles gave him a patented scowl, but there’s a skittish look on his face that’s hard to interpret. Derek’s 75 percent sure he’s lying out of his ass, “I can surf.”
Derek laughs, “Well, you have the honor of driving me down there so you can surf with us. Bring a friend.” He hopes it’s not Lydia. Once was more than enough.
“Oh…that’s really cool of you!” It comes out funny but it’s certainly genuine.
Derek groans as they turn into the dentist’s office, “Shit, I really do have to do this?”
“Your teeth should stay gorgeous now that they’re in national magazines, Mr. H-Derek.”
Derek looks at Stiles with a smile, showing all his teeth, which he typically reserved for heavy flirting or the red carpet, “These old things?”
Stiles goes a bit pale again, half blinking and Derek looks at him, alarmed, “Stiles?”
Stiles laughs weakly, “Sorry, your 100 watt smile is a bit much when a guy isn’t prepared for it. I usually just see the 15 watt when I crack a particularly good joke.”
Derek shakes his head with amusement, “I’ll have to tell Jackson that.” He’s about to get out of the car when he hesitates, “Actually Stiles?”
“Yeah?” Derek turns around to see Stiles looking a little discomfited, but Derek is preoccupied by his own thoughts of the damn drill. He really thought he could do this but he can’t. Not by himself.
“Come with me?”
Stiles’ mouth opens a little, but he nods, practically scrambling out of the seat.
Derek hesitates outside the office door and turns to Stiles who nearly ran into him, but their closeness doesn’t bother him, “Look, I hate the dentist, okay?”
“Gotcha.” Stiles nods, taking a step back. His rangy body in constant motion as he makes a ‘safe’ gesture like baseball umpires, “Totally understandable.”
Derek nods once before continuing, “I used to go with my mom and she’d hold my hand. Obviously I can’t do that now because I’m a twenty-seven year old adult. So you’re going to go in there and hold my fucking hand and we’re never going to talk about it ever again, understand?”
Stiles nods up and down so jerkily that Derek worries his head is in danger of falling off.
SEPTEMBER
Derek frowns as he sets his phone down. He’d get the condoms but he has to deal with some important paperwork from the office. Stiles walks back into the living room, his eyes bright with excitement,
“Man, it’s gorgeous here! Lyds and I will do some shopping and we’ll have a barbecue tonight. Corn, red meat, other he-man type stuff. Sound good?”
Lydia is currently outside trying to get reception. Derek can guess that she’s interested in the shopping primarily for cell service.
Derek sighs, wishing Stiles hadn’t brought her. He already had to suffer through a car trip with Lydia sitting in his seat, buffing her nails as they listened to an audiotape about Ada Lovelace.
His phone bleeps with a new email from Isaac. That’ll be the quarterly report for Derek to look over before shooting emails to the heads of different departments. Then he will actually be on vacation, away from anyone (family or otherwise) trying to harass him.
“Want anything else?” Stiles asked, running his hands all over the dark marble counter. Since they entered the small house an hour ago, Stiles hasn’t stopped touching things. It’s like he’s a blind man mapping his way or something.
“Actually yes.” Derek pulls his gaze from Stiles’ pale fingers against the onyx counter, “Condoms. I’ll pay you back.”
Stiles half chokes, nearly falling on the counter and Derek can’t help but laugh.
“What are you, fourteen? You can buy condoms, can’t you?”
“I-Yes.” Stiles splutters indigently, standing up straighter so that he’s at his full height, just brushing past Derek’s own.
“Look,” Derek sighed, “I’d do it myself, but I have at least another hour and half of work and Jackson’s stuck in traffic. If you’re really uncomfortable, I guess I can get them after dinner.”
“No!” Stiles squeaked, “No, no, that’s fine! Besides I was going to get some too, you know.” He sweeps his hand against the counter, “I’m cool. I’m so cool. Lydia!” He practically bolts out the door.
Derek makes a note not to ask Stiles anything in the sexual department again. Some people never really grow out of the awkward stage, Stiles being a prime example.
Derek squints as he surveys the waves from the balcony. Yesterday had been a bad day for surfing-the waves were too high and the clouds looked threatening. All the same, it’d been nice just to sprawl outside on a beach chair with a beer and watch his boyfriend-his boyfriend throw a football with Stiles.
Lydia had been asleep, tanning next him and the world seemed blissfully quiet. Derek even found himself warming up to Lydia. He idly indulged in a fantasy of getting older with Stiles and Lydia around. It wasn’t perfect but Derek liked the idea. He wasn’t quite sure how Jackson fit in that picture, but Derek knew, he knew without a doubt, that Stiles was going to be there. And since his girlfriend was part of Stiles’ package, Derek would tolerate her the same way he did with his sisters: distance and mildly violent threats.
Today was a perfect day for surfing and Derek was delighted for the opportunity to paddle against the cold Pacific, taste the salt-infused air and try to line up a perfect wave.
Jackson walks up next to him grinning, as Derek admires how the dark blue wetsuit molds perfectly to Jackson's torso, “Perfect day.”
“Yeah.” Derek grins, “Do you want to go ahead without Stiles? He’s probably taking advantage of being able to sleep in.”
Derek was relieved he hadn’t heard any awkward noises from Stiles’ room with Lydia. He was also impressed since Stiles seemed like he’d be noisy.
Derek had a noise problem, but he tried to stay quiet. Jackson, that asshole, only tried to bring out Derek's noisy moans and heavy breathing.
“Early bird catches the wave,” Jackson squeezes him lightly on the neck, his blue eyes sparking with mischief as he suddenly scrambles down the wooden stairs, “Last one in gets spanked!”
Derek lets out his own war cry, grinning despite himself as he tries to overtake Jackson. It’s a pretty even race after he manages to shove Jackson who just laughs. They hit the water, screaming like kids and splashing each other. In the melee, Jackson dunks Derek, laughing.
Spluttering as he shoves his wet hair out of his eyes, Derek gives Jackson an aggressive kiss, half-panting with amusement as Jackson shoves him back.
“Cold!” Jackson half swears, shivering, “Augh, it’s cold as fuck, man.”
Derek laughs at him, already warm. He’s always warmed up quickly, “Come on, let’s get the boards.” There was a cage underneath the stairs where the boards were stored.
"Hey guys, we boarding now?” Stiles voice shouts out above them and Derek can hear him clattering down the stairs.
Derek glances over Stiles’ outfit: baggy white board shorts, dark green neoprene surf shirt, “Huh. I’m surprised you couldn’t find a flannel patterned wetsuit.”
Stiles gives him a mocking laugh, still smiling, “I didn’t try.” He glances at Jackson, “Thanks for letting me borrow a board, man.”
“No problem.” Jackson gives Stiles a nod, planting a nicely formed longboard in front of Stiles.
There’s a noise-Jackson’s phone. Derek always recognizes it because Jackson’s ringtone is the theme song to his show, Arrow. Jackson frowns, glancing at it,
“Crap, that means they’ll need me to come in and reshoot. I told them not to call for anything else.” He takes the phone, looking at Derek apologetically as he walks out.
Derek sighs and grabs his board, along with some surf wax from a shelf.
“Can I have some?”
Derek wordlessly gives him a different tin, eyes focused on his board. He hasn’t gone surfing since he was sixteen years old.
It’d been the week before his dad died.
Derek thinks about telling Jackson that but at the same time, he doesn't want to talk about his dad.
Jackson walks in, looking upset, “Derek, I’m sorry. Someone damaged a bunch of my shoots so I have to go back in and reshoot some key scenes.” He sighs, “I’ll make it up to you. There’s a great seafood place a half hour away. My treat and I’ll even chauffeur this time.”
He smirks at Stiles who makes some weird face Derek can’t quite interpret.
“That sounds good. I’ll see you.” Derek tells Jackson, feeling heavy all of a sudden.
Jackson reaches over and pecks Derek before walking out.
“I’d be happy to drive, you know.” Stiles points out, looking at the sand, “He certainly likes making out with you in the back.” He kicks it, scattering sand grains over sand.
Derek shook his head, “It’s fine. I’ll make out with him after we park and you’ll make out with Lydia here. You guys set for dinner?”
“N-I-wh-bu-I-” Stiles stared at him, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “You think I’m dating Lydia?!?”
Derek blinks, “You’re not?”
“No! Well I tried my hardest in high school and we did some dances together but it never really worked out because I wasn’t the jock-type. And now she’s not my type at all.”
“Oh.” Derek shrugs, scratching his stomach idly as he wonders why Stiles willing wants to spend so much time with Lydia if he's not interested in her, “My bad. Let’s get some waves.”
Stiles opens his mouth before closing it, “Yeah, okay.” He seems a little jittery but grabs his board, “Paddle and pop. Paddle and pop.”
OCTOBER
Laura adjusts her Cinderella costume, before she looks up at Derek, “You shaved!” Her hand darts out to cop a feel of his baby-smooth cheek and he smacks it away, scowling. It’s been several years since he shaved all the stubble off his face. He feels almost…cold without it.
“It’s fantastic.” Laura assures him, still looking at his face critically, “Ugh Derek, you didn’t even try with the hair though. Prince Eric doesn’t have gel and spikes. It’s more of an artful ruffle across the forehead.”
“In three years, I get to pick the family costume.” Derek reminds her, allowing Laura to muss his hair up into a more “Eric” style. He doesn’t bother to mention that his white arm cast is also out of character.
People keep asking him if they can sign it and he refuses. Naturally, he’s not anyone’s damn art project.
He is happy though that it only took five minutes to put the damn thing on though. That was better than last year when Adara picked the Flintstones and he was stuck in an itchy orange pelt for five hours.
Laura rolls her eyes as she steps back to survey him again, “You’ll just pick baseball again. So boring.”
“Laura!” Del pops out of their kitchen, grinning. His normally blond hair is now a light brown, slicked down and parted neatly. Derek can’t even remember the last time Del even combed his hair. Certainly not last Halloween for Barney Rubble.
“You look like your first grade school portrait.” Derek smirks as Del rolls his eyes good-naturedly and wraps his arms around Laura, kissing her on the cheek.
“You’re one to talk baby-cakes. Nice cheeks.” Del comments as Derek scowls, running a hand over his smooth jawline. He missed the stubble already.
“I like it.” Laura informs her husband loyally, admiring Del’s gold shoulder fringe and cherry-red tuxedo pants, “But you’ve always been a fantastic Prince Charming.”
Del smiles as Derek inwardly gags at their affectionate moment. It’s weird when his oldest sister gets all melty.
Del looks down at the rest of Derek’s outfit and frowns, “Hey, how come he gets to wear jeans and a white shirt? Prince Eric has a suit too!”
“Yeah but in the family meeting we decided that we liked Eric better in his jeans and white shirt. Plus, Eric also has the red sash, remember?” Laura points out Derek’s crimson-red sash tied around his waist.
Surveying him, Laura adds, “Actually, Der, will you unbutton one more?”
Derek scowls. He’s barely in the custom of unbuttoning his top shirt collar. Now, with three buttons undone, he’s very aware of how exposed his throat and collarbone are.
For some reason, that makes him think of his first day with Stiles wearing his damn exposing gym shirt.
“So, we’re princes now.” Del pats him on the back as Laura walks upstairs to put on her wig, “How’s Jackson?”
“He’s fine. Just busy shooting an episode.”
Derek’s original costume was supposed to be Ping while Jackson was Li-Shan. However, he didn’t want to wear the damn armor when he was supposed to have Jackson as an explanation of why he was wearing a fucking samurai costume. So Laura called an emergency family costume meeting where they picked Eric for him since Deb’s boyfriend (Derek had to get his name from someone later) was going as Beast (their first choice).
“Right. Sorry for mentioning it.” Del glances over at the kitchen, “Drink? We still have to wait for Cora’s date anyway. Deb says Gerry will meet her there.”
Derek sighs, “Beer sounds good.”
“Ugh.” Del sighs, “Talia knew what she was talking about when she decided to start skipping these ridiculous Halloween family costumes.”
Derek laughed, following him into the kitchen to take a seat while Del grabs the beers and takes a very unprincely swig. He riffles around the shelves before grabbing two bar coasters to set the beers on. Apparently Del hadn’t forgotten about Water-Ring Gate of 2015 (to this day, no one had any idea who made the ring but Laura remains convinced it was Cora).
Derek really wants to message Stiles and ask what he’s wearing tonight. Stiles hadn’t mentioned his costume but Derek knows that he’s going to a party.
Maybe he’ll find a pretty girl there.
She’s probably not that pretty though. Or nice. Or sweet enough for Stiles.
“So,” Del breaks into his thoughts, “Don’t tell Laura I had a beer. I told her I wouldn’t drink if she can’t drink because of the fertility treatments."
Derek shrugs, “What do I care?”
Del grins wider, “My man.” They clink their beers.
Derek takes a small sip from his beer by the neck before setting it back on the coaster.
“Gerry’s going to ask you if he can propose.”
Derek blinks, “The answer’s no…who’s Gerry?
Del’s face splits into a grin, “I knew you didn’t remember him. Deb’s been dating him for two years.”
“Two years?”
“We had a similar conversation near their one year anniversary.” Del reminds him and Derek recalls that conversation. They had popcorn and he nearly choked on one (from shock that Deb successfully made it a year in the same relationship).
“I thought they broke up. She’s dated at least four diff-”
“Nope.”
Derek nods, absorbing it, “Do we like him?”
Del shrugs, “He’s obsessed with lacrosse and his assistant coaching job at some high school outside of the city.”
“I don’t want Deb moving to the sticks.”
Del laughs, “Relax. You guys have a summer house in Beacon Hills after all. It’s not that rural.”
“We do?”
“Yeah, remember? Your dad used to take us there all the time for fishing and tough man shit. Get away from the pink ruffles and perfumed walls, grow some hair.” Del smiles as Derek half-laughs, eyes gazing at the faded design of the coaster.
He can’t stop the remembered smell of fall leaves and the faraway belly laugh of a man he hasn’t seen in over fourteen years from entering his mind.
“Aw shit, don’t look like that,” Del sighs, “Look, just tell Gerry that he can propose to Deb and cross your fingers that Deb says no and proceed to date someone you recall."
Derek scowls, “Gerry. Gerry what?”
Del shrugs, “Greenerman or something. Maybe Greenbaum. Just be chill, Derek.”
Derek huffs, taking a longer pull of his beer.
“We’re ready!” Laura’s voice hollers out, “Del! Do you have the camera? Del, are you drinking?!”
Del colors as he throws his half-full beer away, “Coming babe! Derek had the beer!”
Derek laughs and follows his old friend, shaking his head in amusement.
In the foyer, his sisters have already arranged themselves on the stairs. Laura, swathed in her floaty blue dress, rocked the blond wig she had just applied. Deb was all smiles in her gold ball gown, double-checking the princess knot on her head, dark brown loose curls strategically placed around her face.
He frowns, looking at Adara. The frilly-white top looks fine, even with the shoulders revealed but he’spositive that the original princess didn’t feature such a short purple skirt. He definitely didn’t see any thighs in the cartoons.
“Dara, what the hell are you?”
She rolls her eyes, “Esmerelda! She’s totally a Disney Princess!” Adara’s naturally brown curls bounce as she pulls a dance move with her tambourine, smirking.
Derek sighs, but if his sisters have accepted the shortened skirt, there’s really nothing he can do about it.
“Where’s Cora?” Del asks as he frames the shot and counts three Princesses.
“Sorry, had to use the bathroom!” Cora’s soft voice floats out before she walks into the foyer, grinning broadly. At first, Derek can’t see more than a mint-green streak but then he realizes that she’s decided to go as navel-bearing Jasmine.
Suddenly Adara’s costume looks a lot better.
“I think Derek should’ve been Genie.” Cora says impudently as she arranges herself at the bottom of the line, as youngest of the Hales.
“I think you’re not wearing that unless there’s a special jacket I didn’t catch.” Derek frowns, “One that covers all this.” He gestures to his torso, upset.
“Stop that, Derek. She looks beautiful.” Laura, of all people, snaps at him. Usually Laura’s on his side when it comes to modesty. Deb too and now Deb is nodding along with Laura as if Cora isn’t revealing the majority of her torso to the outside public.
“You’re all on her side?” Derek asks, shocked
The sisters nod. It’s a bit freaky how synchronized they are sometimes.
“Besides, just wait until you see Aladdin.” Cora grins, a hard edge to it that Derek associates with the feeling he gets from bad hangovers and pop quizzes. She flips her braid, content to let Derek imagine hobos and bike gangsters.
“Okay, picture!” Laura demands from her post and Del sighs holding up his iPhone as he hollers for attention, a hard thing to gain with 5 Hales in the room.
The sisters pose several times before demanding Derek join them in the center as the middle Hale. He even manages to smile for one without looking exasperated. Maybe he’ll send one to Stiles as a joke.
The doorbell rings and Del glances over as Cora rushes out of the picture, “Aladdin!”
Derek chuckles at Cora’s enthusiasm. She said it the exact same way she might’ve yelled for candy as a kid.
Cora opens the door with a burst of energy and Derek wasn’t prepared to see fucking Stiles there.
He’s wearing loose white pants, a rust-colored sash and-
Oh, that skimpy purple vest did not leave a lot of room for imagination. Derek could see that mole peeking from the edge of Stiles’ collarbone and there were other moles and dots and hair-Stiles.
“You’re Aladdin?!” Derek’s voice startles even him. For some reason, he can’t remember how to move.
Cora grins, “Hey, you went blue again!” She laughs, wrapping one arm around Stiles, “Yeah! He fits the costume, which is great. It’s a little small up top, but you look hot, don’t worry.”
“You-” Stiles looks surprised too and coughs to clear his throat, his eyes not leaving Derek’s, “You look great, man.” He gives a half sheepish smile, “I was going to help pass out candy but Cora asked and I couldn’t say no?”
Derek closes his mouth, “Well. What do I care?”
“Yeah, we are allowed to fraternize with the help.” Cora jokes before turning to Stiles, “Seriously though, thank you. I really wanted to do a couple costume so everyone got that I was Princess Jasmine.”
There’s conversation going on around him but Derek can’t stop thinking that was his baby sister and that was…Stiles.
NOVEMBER
Derek walks back into his office, scowling as he sees the jaunty bright red card with a perfectly ridiculous elephant plastered on it.
“You are such a grump, you’re literally scowling at a birthday card.” Derek jumps, seeing Stiles in his preferred corner seat of Derek’s swanky sitting area, grinning. His hair is mussed up, as if he’s been yanking at it and he hasn’t stopped tapping his foot against the edge of the glass coffee table.
“You break that, I’m billing you.” Derek warns him, though there’s no heat behind it. He frowns again at the card, “I don’t like birthdays.”
“Well I won’t get you a card next year.”
Derek turns around, eyes wide, “This is from you?”
Stiles nods, grinning a little wider, “Cora mentioned it last week when we went to get coffee.”
“You two are still just friends?”
“We spent the entire time talking about this really cute guy in the corner of the cafe. He wasn’t as cute as you though, don’t worry.”
Derek rolls his eye, moving to sit at his desk. There’s a pause before he gestures to the card, still standing in the middle of his desk, “Thanks for the card.”
Stiles looks at him, “Don’t you want to read it?” He looks a little funny, almost anxious.
Derek plucks it, sighing. He didn’t want to deal with his damn birthday. He just wanted to go on with his day without people grinning at him like he just won the damn lottery. All he did was turn fucking twenty-eight. Twenty-eight and single because he couldn’t get his heterosexual driver out of his head.
Derek smiles, touched. He looks up at Stiles’ expectant face, “Thank you.” It’s strangely nice how determined Stiles wants him to feel good about himself.
Stiles smiles wider, “So…it’s a good card right?”
“I am a great guy. I don’t know about the greatest, but it’s nice to know that someone does.” Derek frowns as his phone bleeps again, “Dammit, Isaac needs me.”
He leaves Stiles in his office. For a second, he could’ve sworn he heard Stiles say “Me too,” but that doesn’t seem right. Derek shakes it off as wishful thinking.
"Cora wants her popcorn plain with no animal cruelty of any kind. Organic if possible," Deb reminds him, carelessly stashing a twenty in the breast pocket of Derek's shirt, "And the usual for the rest of us, right Der-bear?" She pecks him on his cheek before waiting for any sort of verbal answer. Or an eyebrow twitch, even.
Derek scowls but at least Del and Deb's Greenerspan are decent enough to hang out with him, help carry all the damn food. Derek has to stop agreeing to do things with his family-it keeps leading to unwanted social interactions.
Del yawns, "Laur's been on me all month. I doubt I'll be able to watch this movie without falling asleep and I've been looking forward to it!"
Derek makes a face, "Kindly refrain from any reference, oblique or otherwise, about my sister's babymaking activities."
Del turns pink, "Sorry man, sleep ruins my filter." He glances around, squinting, "Oh hey, Der, where do I know that guy from?"
Derek's not expecting to see Stiles when he turns in the direction Del's pointing, but that's Stiles. Stiles who happens to be holding hands, fingers laced with a dark haired boy that looked like he had more dimples than sense.
"Nobody." Derek says firmly, turning away. He can't help the lump in his throat as he steps up to order and Del does it for him after an awkward long pause with the pimply cashier staring anxiously at him, having already repeated an inquiry to help with his order.
Just as they get loaded up with the food, stupid Blueberg snaps his finger and says, "Oh yeah, that guy's your driver! He's so cool."
Derek can't really help himself when he dumps a large cherry slushie on Blueblub's head, scowling. He bites off something about going to the bathroom, intending to collect himself before leaving the movies. But awkwardest of fucking awkwardest, he comes eye to eye with those big brown eyes, warm as ever. Even if their warmth is aimed toward the dimpled idiot.
Because the universe hates Derek Hale, his sisters happened to pick out a row behind Stiles and his date.
Because Derek Hale secretly hates himself, he spent half the movie watching how the idiot rested his head on Stiles' broad shoulder, practically nuzzling his throat.
Derek walked in, his heart hammering against his chest. He could hear Stiles’ jovial voice from the hotel reception and quickened his pace, following that damn voice.
It stopped once Stiles saw him. Derek just drank in handsome Stiles in the familiar ‘monkey suit’ he wore for special events. His hair was ruffled in the back, denting the perfectly arranged spikes he probably had before.
Seeing Stiles only made Derek more aware of his mission and he purposefully strode to the center of the empty dance floor, well aware of how many people were watching him.
“-behind him. I-uh-” Stiles half stammers, staring at him, “Derek?”
“Laura said you called her to resign.” Derek half barked, feeling horse. He’s very aware that he’s interrupted a speech but everyone seems content to watch him interrupt.
Stiles swallows, a funny look on his face, “You’re here because you need me to what-unresign?” He frowns, “How did you even get here?”
Derek marched forward until he’s at the head table, across from Stiles’ pale face, both of them the only ones standing in a quiet ballroom.
“I drove. I broke the speeding limit but I had to get here in time. I need you.”
Stiles looks at him, his eyes suddenly brighter than before, “Need me? Like-how do you need me?”
Derek stares at him, knowing that Stiles is half-goading him on to spill genuine affection in front of 200 people that he doesn’t know.
“And just so you know, my dad’s here. He's not armed though.” Stiles adds as if he knows what Derek is thinking.
“Damnit Stiles, I’m not good at these things.” Derek sighs, upset as he rakes a hand through his hair, “If I loved you less, I could explain it better.”
In the pause that passes, Stiles stares at Derek who feels the moment passing. Just as Derek's about to slink away into a glass of whiskey on the rocks-
“Fuck you, that was perfect.” Stiles declares as his hand grabs Derek’s shirt collar, the other already running through Derek's hair.
Suddenly lips are colliding and as they navigate teeth and tongues, Derek grows more aware of the clapping and cheering around them. Stiles pulls away first, breathless, smiling broadly. He pecks Derek on the nose, fisting his shirt collar. His eyes are shiny, on the edge of leaking tears and Derek wants to kiss every salty drop.
Stiles let out a choked laugh, looking around at everyone still seated, raising the microphone to his mouth wiht a sheepish grin, “Everyone, meet my boyfriend, Derek Hale. Scott and Allison, have a happy life. Cheers.” He raises his glass and downs it quickly.
Before Derek can figure out where to go, Stiles jumps the table, then Derek finds Stiles in his arms like they’re in on the cover of Laura’s favorite bodice rippers. Everyone’s clapping as if they’re finished some kind of skit.
Derek drops Stiles, who laughs. Wasting no time, Stiles grabs his hand, dragging him away, “Come on.”
“Oh no!” A man in a sharp suit stands up, “You are not having sex with this young man before I meet him.”
“Dad!” Stiles groans, “We’re just going to go talk. We need to talk. We’ll be back real soon, I promise.” Stiles laces his fingers, those soft fingers that Derek can’t get enough of, into Derek's and yanks him toward the doors of the ballroom, away from the crowd of gossips.
“Sorry about ruining your date.” Derek said breathlessly as they close the door. Stiles breaks ahead to hit the elevator button, turning around with an impish grin. Derek strides over to hug him tightly and hears Stiles inhale deeply, as if he can’t get enough. Derek understands the feeling, overwhelmed by his own closeness to Stiles’ scent.
“Huh? I didn’t have a date."
"What about Danny?"
"Weddings are too formal for a guy you only had three dates with.” Stiles explained, a fond note in his voice as his hands roam Derek’s back, “You’re in luck though. Lydia tampered with my reply card and put me down for two meals.”
“Fantastic.” Derek kisses the mole on Stiles' cheek. It's taunted him for so long and he can’t resist dropping down to press a wet open mouthed kiss to the back of Stiles’ neck where another favorite teased him for the last six months.
Stiles let out an almost unearthly, harsh groan, tightening his hold around Derek, pulling their pelvises together. Derek feels like preening as he grounds himself into-
“Fuck, stop. We’ve got to get in the elevator, get up five floors and then go to Room 514 before we take off any clothes.” Stiles sounds strangled, but he doesn’t try to pull away, his breathing hot and heavy, near Derek’s ear.
“Why?” Derek really can’t figure out why he can’t do what he wants with his fucking Stiles after six fucking months of wanting.
“Because we’re fucking grown ups.” Stiles managed to pull his neck away, looking at Derek with a half smile, “Say you love me again.”
Derek’s smile crooks, deep affection surging for Stiles, “I love y-.”
He can’t get the rest of it out, muffled by Stiles mouth. That fucking mouth. Somehow, they manage to register the open elevator doors.
A family steps in even though it’s blatantly obvious that the two of them were getting pretty hot and heavy. Feeling guilty as their small child turns around to peer at them, the two men break apart, leaning against the back of the elevator.
They hold hands.
Stiles’ grip is as firm as Derek remembers. Those hands had played a starring role in an embarrassing number of fantasies that kept Derek company late at night. Right now he could feel Stiles’ thumb against around his own thumb, circling and stroking: it’s a crude imitation that gets Derek growing hot all the same. He doesn’t dare look over where he’s sure Stiles’ face displays all his lascivious thoughts, eyes hooded with flirtatious intent.
They manage to get off the elevator without scandalizing the family of three too much. Stiles laughed, wild with glee as Derek tries to tackle him against a wall for the teasing.
Lithe, Stiles slips out with a well-timed kiss, laughing yet again as Derek chases him, smile broad on his face. It's like chasing after a fucking butterfly.
There he is, leaning against Room 514, his pupils blown with lust. The sultriness of Stiles’ gaze makes Derek crazy. Doesn’t he know how beautiful he is with that wide mouth and these moles and those long, elegant fingers?
He must.
Derek has to lean in and breathe in Stiles, try to calm himself through the dizzying high that Stiles unleashes in him. Especially a Stiles hell bent on getting his tongue in Derek’s mouth.
Stiles turns around, taking charge with the door and they practically spill in, a mess of limbs tangled. Derek’s unable to stop touching Stiles and the younger man appears no less immune to Derek.
“Bed,” Stiles manages to get out between the hot licks and kisses that Derek’s bestowing on his neck, “Bed right there, go-get-Derek!”
Stiles says his name with so much feeling that Derek can’t help but draw away, hard as he rolls off the warm lithe body, crawl/jumping over to the damn bed while Stiles shakily stands up and closes the door.
Stiles opens it again a second later to add:
