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Derek stood at the edge of the ballroom, silently praying no one would come up to him. He wished he could disappear to his chambers, take a respite from this gathering, but people would notice if the king was gone.
However, he could at least avoid dancing for a little longer.
"You look pensive, Your Majesty."
Derek did not jump in surprise, but rather allowed himself one raised eyebrow. "Mage Stilinski. I see you've been enjoying yourself."
Mage Stilinski sidled up next to him. "I thought I told you to call me Stiles, Your Majesty."
Derek's face warmed at the memory. He turned his attention back to the crowd. "I'm afraid now is not the place for such familiarity."
"Such a shame," Stiles said. "I do so love familiarity."
The warmth on Derek's face turned to heat. "I'm sure you do."
Stiles clasped his hands behind his back and leaned forward
a bit, as though he were studying Derek's face. "You didn't answer my
question."
"You didn't ask a question," Derek pointed out.
"Why do you look so pensive, Your Majesty?"
Derek sighed. "I have never been a great fan of balls. Before I would vanish up to my room after the first hour."
"Before?" Stiles's eyes flicked up to the circlet on his head, and understanding dawned on his face. "Ah, before. Perhaps it was your mother's way of finally ensuring you would attend an entire ball?"
Derek smiled sadly. "I assure you, there were much easier ways."
"True, true." Stiles flashed a quick, blinding smile in Derek's direction. "Could I interest Your Majesty in a walk in the garden?"
Derek blinked, and his heart beat faster. "What?"
Stiles looked the picture of innocence, with his guileless amber eyes. "The ballroom does get a bit stuffy after so much dancing, wouldn't you agree? A brief turn through the garden is just what you need."
"Is that what you think?" Derek asked, and damn it, he was matching Stiles's teasing tone.
Stiles bowed. "I know it for a fact, Your Majesty."
Perhaps he shouldn't. But the gardens were part of the ball; the wide doors were open onto the terrace, and people had been streaming in and out all night.
"Very well," Derek said.
Stiles looked inordinately pleased and held out his arm. "Shall we, then?"
Derek took it, resting his fingers lightly in the crook of Stiles's elbow and relishing in the little thrill he felt when they touched. Boyd, one of his knights, started to follow, but Derek gave a small shake of his head. There were many people he didn't feel safe with, but Stiles wasn't one of them.
The gardens were far cooler than the sweltering ballroom, and Derek tilted his head back to breathe in the fresh air. They wandered down the stone paths, not speaking, but it was a companionable silence.
It had been two years since they'd met in this very garden,
two years since Derek had inherited his crown and his kingdom. Though they'd
not spent much time together, Derek's alliance with the McCall kingdom meant
that there had been plenty of reason for correspondence. It had not taken him
long to see why King Scott trusted Stiles above all his other advisors.
It had taken even less time for Stiles to wiggle his way into Derek’s heart.
They took a turn, and Derek found they were at the gazebo at the center of the gardens.
Stiles gave him a cheeky grin. "Recognize this?"
Derek snorted. "I think I know my own gardens."
"You know what I mean." Stiles stepped in front of him and bowed extravagantly, and then held out his hand. "May I have this dance, my lord Derek?"
His heart stumbled to hear his name from Stiles's lips, and after the barest hesitation, Derek took his hand. "You may."
Stiles pulled him in, threading their fingers together and placing his other hand on Derek's waist. They moved to the faint music drifting out in the night air, standing far closer than they should, but Derek couldn't bring himself to care. He'd been fascinated by Stiles since that first night, and now that he was close enough to count the moles along his cheeks and jaw, Derek was not going to pass up the chance to look his fill.
"You look much less pensive now, Your Majesty," Stiles said.
"Being away from so many people helps." He took a deep breath and looked Stiles straight in the eye. "Being with you helps even more."
Stiles froze, eyes wide, and their gentle dance came to a halt. Perhaps it was too bold, too much, but...he wanted Stiles to know.
"I thought Your Majesty didn't trust mages," Stiles said, his voice deliberately light, but Derek could hear the edge under it.
His heart sank. So that was how it was to be, then. "That was before I had the pleasure of making your acquaintance." Derek stepped away from the warmth of Stiles's body, clenched his fists at his sides so he wouldn't reach back out. "Thank you for the dance, Mage Stilinski."
He bowed and turned to walk back to the palace, silently grateful for the years of practice in concealing his every emotion. It meant no one would be able to tell his heart was breaking.
Long fingers caught his wrist. "Derek, wait."
He stopped and turned, and Stiles crashed right into his chest. "I didn't—that wasn't—oh hell," Stiles swore, and then looped his hands around Derek's neck to pull him into a kiss.
Derek took all of half a second to be surprised, and then he caught Stiles by his waist to return the kiss as best he could. This was what he wanted, what he'd been wanting for longer than he wanted to admit.
"Sorry," Stiles whispered when they broke away to breathe. "I didn't mean to turn you away. I just didn't think you'd ever...feel that way about someone like me."
Derek lifted his hand to Stiles's face to brush his thumb along the moles there. "'Someone like you' is the only person I've ever felt that way about."
Stiles's eyes widened in wonder, and he broke into a smile that lasted for all of a heartbeat before it faded. "But...you're the king. And I'm—"
"A high-ranking, very valued advisor to one of our oldest allies," Derek cut in.
Stiles raised an eyebrow. "Just how long have you been thinking about this, my lord Derek?"
"Longer than I ought to have been," Derek admitted.
Stiles's smile returned, his amber eyes sparkling, and
Derek's heart tripped to see it.
Stiles held up a fist and opened his hand to reveal a purple rose. "In that case, may I have another dance, my lord Derek?"
Derek took the rose and tucked it in the buttonhole closest to his heart. "You may have as many dances as you like...Stiles. For as long as you'd like them."
Stiles rested his forehead against Derek's. "I'll hold you to that, Your Majesty."
"Good."