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“Oh my god, you asshole.”
Derek turns slowly to look at Stiles, confused at the sudden outburst. “What?”
“Don’t what me, mister! You know what you’re doing!” Stiles crosses his arms.
“I do?” Derek doesn’t understand where Stiles’s rage is coming from. They had just been doing one of their self-defense sessions, something Stiles insisted on after the ogre incident.
“Yes! You do! Look at you!” Stiles huffs.
Derek looks down at himself, even more confused. He’s just wearing jeans, they’re even loose fitting. His shirt had come off a while ago after it had an encounter with Stiles’s knife. “I don’t understand.”
“You’re sweaty. And dirty.”
“You are too.” Derek cocks his head, taking in how Stiles looks. He’s down to just a pair of jeans and an old BHHS shirt. Derek’s pretty sure that’s a twig stuck in Stiles’s hair too. “We are training out here in the woods, Stiles. Dirty happens.”
Stiles sighs. “Do I have to do everything?” Before Derek realizes what’s happening, he has an armful of Stiles.
“Asshole,” Stiles breathes before pressing his lips to Derek’s.
Derek stiffens in shock. “What,” he murmurs.
Stiles pouts, sad that he has to pull his mouth away from Derek’s. “You’ve smelled the lust on me, right? This should not be a surprise.”
“You’re a teenager. You all smell like lust. All the time.”
“Only for another year,” Stiles says flippantly. “And do you really think I’m that turned on all the time? Even when I’m eating pizza with the pack?”
“You really like pizza,” Derek offers weakly.
“Pizza doesn’t give me boners. You give me boners.” Stiles grins and pushes his hips forward to prove it. “I know you like me too. Say it.”
“You... I like you too, Stiles.”
“Spoilsport. I wanted to hear you say ‘boner.’” Stiles sighs again. “Hey, do you think you could fuck me like this? Holding me up?”
Derek looks amused. “I could, but we’re not using spit for lube.”
“I’m sweaty too.”
Derek narrows his eyes at Stiles. “Don’t go there.”
“You could even say that I’m... wet for you.”
“I hate you and I’m never touching your dick.”
“That’s not what your boner says,” Stiles singsongs.
“My boner is saying nothing.” Derek glares.
“Yes,” Stiles crows. “Now, take me back to your swanky, grungy Brian Kinney loft and fuck me.”
“That makes you Justin Taylor, you know.”
“Oh my god, you got a reference.” Stiles beams. “Marry me.”
“Laura made me watch it.” Derek shrugs. “And I’m not marrying you.”
“Right. We should get the first date out of the way.”
“Date?” Derek looks slightly terrified as Stiles slides his legs down to stand again.
“Duh. You’re going to woo the shit out of me.” Stiles heads back to where Derek parked his car.
“How do I do that?” Derek follows Stiles, still slightly in shock.
“You’ll figure it out, Hale. Now say ‘boner’ again. I want to record that.”
“Never.” Derek smirks as he picks up Stiles, making the boy squeak, and carries him to the car.