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We're Never Done with Killing Time (Can I Kill It with You?)

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Maybe Stiles should've passed down the offer. Maybe he should've told Lydia that nah, he was good and that he had some important things to do that Saturday and that he couldn't make it to Jackson's eighteenth birthday party. Maybe he should just leave before he can even manage to get any border than how he is now.

Don't get him wrong, him and Jackson are on somewhat good terms, even if some days Stiles just wants to chuck the back of his head with a lacrosse stick for being the usual tool he is. So a party at Jackson's house with booze and music? Didn't sound that bad since all of his friends (mostly just Scott, Allison and Lydia) are going. Why the hell not show up?

Except that for this being a party thrown by the Lydia Martin, guilty for being in charge of throwing the best parties in Beacon Hills, this is a fucking drag.

It's probably because Stiles isn't much of a party person, he never really did enjoy large groups of people getting drunk and dancing around him. But this was just plain unimpressive: the music was dull and he's sure he's heard the same song on repeat for about half an hour, he wasn't even sure if the people at the party were even from his school most of them just being strangers that he's never seen before.

There was nothing particularly interesting about this, nothing that made him want to dance or get some of that cheap beer at the snacks table. He just sat there on a lonely chair against the wall and watched how everyone danced in Jackson's living room, typical fist bumps and uncoordinated jumping.

Scott had run off with Allison, probably because those two noticed how crappy this party was and decided to go have some fun themselves. Or at least, that was what Stiles thought when he saw Scott drag Allison upstairs, the two of them wearing giddy smiles and eyes red from the alcohol.

Stiles may be the only one here not enjoying this party.

He crosses his arms and throws his head back against the wall, playing with his tongue and counting his teeth idly.

He has twenty eight, including the growing wisdom teeth in the very back that he really has to get rid of soon.

Then right in front of him appears none other than Lydia herself, pushing past people and wobbling a bit in her heels. Her light pink dress is riding up her legs, exposing most of her thighs as she approaches him in a hurry.

"And what do you think you're doing?" She scolds, yelling over the music and taking a seat on Stiles' lap.

If Stiles hadn't gotten over his crush on Lydia and kinda found out he was into dudes, he would've totally popped an embarrassing boner.

Stiles wonders if Jackson would mind to see his tipsy girlfriend sitting on another guy's lap, her arms draped over his shoulders if he happens to walk by, if he would pick a fight or simply kick him out without saying a word.

Then Stiles sees Jackson taking body shots from a small blonde's belly button and shrugs it off.

"I'm observing." Stiles answers, glancing over at Lydia's green and judging eyes, mascara slightly smudged around them as she glares at him.

"You'd rather observe than be a part of all this?" She gestures over to the party people, who seem to be having an awesome time.

"I'm just not feeling it." Stiles admits, scrunching his face up and shaking his head. "Just not my scene."

Lydia cocks an eyebrow lazily and gives him an 'are-you-kidding-me?' look before letting out a petty sigh and fixing Stiles' growing hair. "Oh Stiles; always living on the sidelines." She mocks fake pity.

Stiles huffs and rolls his eyes at her. "No I am not. This just- I'm not meant to be here. Okay? I should be at home studying or having fun in my own way, not at some party where I barely even know anybody."

Lydia pinches her mouth to the side and looks up in thought, before looking back down at Stiles and smirking. "Then I have just the thing for you." She boops his nose and gets up from his lap, catwalking away into the crowd.

Stiles is honestly close to being horrified at what that something is.

He waits anxiously for about two minutes before he can spot Lydia's strawberry blonde hair from a few heads away, making her way with two red cups in her hands. Stiles quirks a brow when she shoves the drink at his chest, a little bit of it spills onto his shirt but he forgives Lydia's clumsy and drunk actions.

"Drink." She demands, sipping on her own cup as she awaits for him to do as he is told.

He looks at the cup and twirls it in his hand, bringing his nose over to sniff it suspiciously. "What is it?" He asks, staring down at the yellowish liquid.

Lydia groans and places a hand on her hip. "It's not like I roofied you, Stiles. Jesus, it's just something I sneaked from Jackson's dad's alcohol cabinet." She takes a full gulp of her drink. "Way better than that piss at the table that Jackson likes to call beer."

"Is it even okay for you to do this?" He looks up at her, seriously not wanting to get into trouble because Lydia decided to break into an alcohol cabinet and take some of Mr. Whittemore's beverages.

"He won't notice a thing. Now come on, drink." She encourages, snatching his wrist and bringing the cup up towards his mouth.

Stiles hesitantly allows some of the drink go past his lips, grimacing at the sour and bitter taste on his tongue. He stares into the cup in disgust and looks back at Lydia. "What is this?" He points at it, coughing at the burning sensation in the back of his throat.

"Oh don't be such a prude. It's whisky, nothing that bad." She slightly sways her hips to the music.

"This tastes like rat poison." He comments and takes another sip anyway, just because he's actually kind of thirsty. He sometimes wishes that parties serve bowls of fruit punch like how they used to.

"Wouldn't be surprised if you've actually tasted that before." Lydia mumbles into her cup, not loud enough for Stiles to hear.

Before he can even ask her to repeat, Jackson appears behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist, his shirt is off and he looks drunk off of his ass. He whispers something into her ear, getting some of her curled hair into his mouth but he doesn't seem to care.

Lydia flashes a saucy smirk at whatever he said and places a hand on top of one of Jackson's, winking at Stiles. "See ya' later, Stilinski." She purrs and stumbles away with Jackson.

Stiles fakes a tight smile and brings his cup up briefly in a 'cheers' gesture before bringing it back to his lips, accepting more of the bitter alcohol into his mouth.

"Should've stayed at home, damnit." He mumbles into the cup, swallowing more and more of the disgusting drink, which isn't that disgusting once you take a few sips and let it get into your system.

He eyes the people in front of him, all dancing and mingling, having a good time as Stiles remains as bitter as the whisky he is drinking. He knows that he'll only have fun if he gets up on his feet and tries to, but he wasn't really into the idea of getting touched by those sweaty and hot bodies dancing along to the music booming loudly across the block.

Stiles wonders how long it would take until the party gets crashed by the cops, but doesn't really worry about it since he told his father he's going to be here.

He really wishes they would get called on by the cops just so he can have an excuse to leave without Lydia pulling him back in.

Stiles is halfway done with his whiskey when he feels someone sliding their body against the wall and sitting next to his chair on the ground. Through the loud music, he can hear the person grunt in annoyance.

"Not what you expected it to be?" Stiles asks to the obviously pissed person, staring off into the group of students dancing, the bodies almost endless. He takes another sip of his drink and sighs.

The person grunts again. "Really thought this would be better coming from Jackson." And Stiles must be drunk already because that voice cannot belong to Derek Hale.

Stiles turns his head and almost pinches himself because there he is, Derek sitting there on the ground with the usual scowl on his face as he stares angrily at everyone at the party.

Stiles coughs and turns to look ahead once again, ignoring the fact that Derek looks so good in that tight black v-neck and his perfectly messy black hair. "Y-yeah, music sucks." His voice unintentionally goes deeper, scratching his cheek idly. "I mean Kesha; what's up with that?"

Derek scoffs, an aborted sarcastic laugh that sounds way too angelic in Stiles' ears. "Not just that: freakin' pricks from Hoffman." He says, referring to the mostly stuck-up students from the other high school in Beacon Hills.

"Yeah? Didn't even know who they are." Stiles admits, shrugging and catching some of the guys that look like pretentious douches, almost exact replicas of Jackson and girls that wear their skirts a bit too high and wear too much lip gloss. Yep, definitely from Hoffman.

"Three of them came up to me and the first thing they ask is what car I drive. Typical Hoffman girls." Derek shoots daggers at no one in particular, resting his forearms on his knees.

"What car do you drive?" Stiles ends up asking, even though he secretly does know what car Derek drives to school (he's just trying to make conversation, okay?). It's sleek and black and you can't miss it.

"Chevy." Derek grumbles, playing with his fingernails. "Camaro."

"That's nothing to be ashamed of. I'm that guy that drives that worn down blue Jeep." Stiles says, feeling himself loosen up a bit with the alcohol, not exactly tipsy-tipsy, but getting there.

"I'm not ashamed. It's just- why do girls care so much about cars and credit cards and stuff like that? It's all so," He pauses and sighs, shaking his head. "Superficial."

"Girls are dazzling and mysterious creatures, it's really hard to understand them and fulfil their needs. But not all of them are like that, you know." Stiles says, downing a bit more of that whiskey that's sort of on his good side now. "But these girls are Hoffman girls, dude; what else do you expect from them? Have them take you to dinner first and have you wait until marriage before getting down?"

Derek actually laughs, a quick and genuine sound leaving past the small smile on his face. "Been creating false expectations in my head this whole time, then." He jokes and looks up at Stiles and even though he's seated on the floor, he doesn't have to tilt his head up that much. "Guess I'm not going home with one of them tonight." He shrugs, a small smirk on his face before turning his eyes away from Stiles. Those beautiful blue-green eyes with specks of gold somewhere in there.

Stiles almost chokes on his whiskey and tries to disguise it as a laugh. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and nods. "And who did you plan on taking home tonight?" He asks, trying to sound chill and indifferent.

It's Derek Hale, for Christ's sake. He's Captain of the lacrosse team and probably one of the most popular guys at school. He can take home whoever he wants in the blink of an eye, damnit.

Derek shrugs. "I dunno. I just planned on maybe getting a bit drunk, playing a birthday prank on Jackson or something." He makes a slightly disgusted facial expression. "But definitely not dancing to this." He refers to the remix of a Katy Perry song that was currently playing.

"And why aren't you doing all of that?" Stiles asks, playing with his now empty plastic cup in his hands nervously. "Because there's obviously nothing holding you back." Derek could be having such an awesome time right now, why waste it with Stiles?

Derek quirks his eyebrows for a quick second in thought, shrugging afterwards. "Probably because this isn't as fun as how it used to be. I've been... fucking around for such a long time that I've already seen all of this before. It's repetitive, like déjà vu or something." He turns to look at Stiles again, his brows furrowed. "And what did you plan on doing tonight?"

Stiles didn't really expect the question from him, but the guy was just trying to be nice after all. "I... honestly don't know. I came here because Lydia would literally castrate me if I didn't. But I never really thought about what I wanted to do here." Stiles pauses and taps on the cup in his hands. "Just to kill time maybe."

Derek stares at Stiles a little longer than necessary after his answer and Stiles honestly doesn't know what to do. He never really prepared himself for someone as hot as Derek to be gazing longingly at his face.

But he ends up speaking just before Stiles can go completely red on his face. "I'm Derek." He introduces himself and Stiles wants to snort and roll his eyes, because yeah, no kidding. He already knew that. He's known that since Stiles was a freshman and Derek was a sophomore that had recently moved from New York.

"I know that." Stiles stupidly blurts out, but he doesn't feel that stupid. He stops himself from adding a 'duh' at the end.

Derek frowns slightly but it has a bit of a smile on it, so it's all good.

Stiles clears his dried throat and swallows, glad that the whiskey he drank has loosen him up enough to have a normal conversation with Derek. "I'm Stiles. Stilin-"

"I know that." Derek repeats Stiles' previous words, a soft smile on his face and oh god he should smile so much more.

"How do you-?"

"You're on the team." Derek answers, interrupting Stiles before he can even ask. "I know everyone's name on the team."

Stiles lets out a disbelieved noise because he's barely ever spoken with Derek. He's usually on the opposite side of the field during practice and Stiles doesn't even play during games for them to even have any sort of interaction. "Yeah, but I'm usually on the bench and we've never really spoken to each-"

"Stiles." Derek says firmly, interrupting him again. "You're still on the team. I know who you are."

Stiles' heart flutters and he literally has to clench his jaw shut to prevent it from falling open.

Before Stiles can even respond, Derek is getting up on his feet and he fears that he's finally noticed how much of a loser Stiles is and decided to get out before he can waste anymore of his time with him.

But he doesn't expect him to extend a hand towards him and quirk a brow, as if waiting for Stiles to take it. No, he is waiting for Stiles to take it.

"Let's get out of here." Derek says over the music and Stiles blinks as he stares up at him owlishly.

"What?" He asks even if he heard loud and clear and Fergie is singing loudly over them through the speakers.

Where the hell would Derek like to take him? It's not like he actually wanted to take him home or anything like that because that would be ridiculous. Derek is popular, mysterious and way out of his league. There were so many people at this party and why chose to get out of here with Stiles?

Derek rolls his eyes, but it's almost playful. "Let's leave this place. We both know this sucks."

Stiles hesitantly takes his hand and almost jolts at the way he immediately squeezes it, feeling the warmth of Derek's grip around his usually cold hands. "And go where?" He looks around at the people who were having fun.

"Anywhere you'd like to go." Derek says, hauling Stiles up to his feet, the boy stumbling a bit but stopping himself before hitting Derek's chest.

There wasn't much of a height difference, but Derek was taller by a few inches, his multicolored eyes staring down at Stiles with an almost-not-there smirk.

Stiles gulps and nods. "Sure why not?"

***

"Oh my God." Stiles moans with his mouth full. "This is holy!" He praises, taking another huge bite from the chili dog he bought at food truck that was only a few blocks away from Jackson's home.

Derek has his own chili dog in his hands, dark red sauce spilling out from the bun and onto his fingers. He doesn't look pleased with the looks of the food, its presentation wasn't the best but Stiles has been trying to convince him that looks were definitely deceiving and that this was going to be the best thing Derek will ever taste.

They sit on the curb, a few feet away from the truck that was busy with other customers at the moment. Stiles and his father would usually stop by here every time his dad has a few hours off, allowing them to have some quality father-son time while sharing a large batch of curly fries and two cokes.

"Well," Stiles slightly nudges Derek with his elbow, who continues to stare at the chili dog with a disturbed glare. "are you going to try it or continue glaring at it until your heat vision kicks in?" Stiles says, gulping down some of his soda.

Derek makes a hesitant expression, tilting his head to the side and his mouth twisted to the side in a grimace. "Is this... healthy?"

"Hell no." Stiles snorts, taking another large bite, unashamed of his obvious craving for this gift sent from the heavens. "But you know what it is?" Stiles struggles to keep his chewed food away from Derek's sight; doesn't want to scare the guy off. "It's good as fuck."

"If this makes my stomach burst I will end you." It does kinda sound threatening, but Stiles has hung out with Derek for a short amount of time to know that he wouldn't do that. Hopefully.

"Just try it. You'll love it." Stiles insists, almost reaching the end of his own chili dog. This may be going against Derek's usual lacrosse diets, which also explains why Stiles isn't in enough shape to actually play during lacrosse games.

Derek braces himself and leans in and takes a bite, a yep, that looks a bit too hot in Stiles' eyes.

Derek taking a huge bite out of a chili dog with his mouth wide open? Yep, that image shouldn't be so sensual but damn, Stiles is glad he got to witness it.

Derek pulls away, his cheeks stuffed with food and the corners of his mouth covered in red chili. He chews carefully and Stiles is literally leaning in, the suspense of whether Derek enjoyed the fast food or not was killing him.

"So?" Stiles gestures him to say something, wiping his own mouth with a napkin from his now-in-his-stomach chili dog.

Derek swallows and there's a confused frown on his face, turning to look at Stiles as if this is an actual dilemma that needs to be discussed about. "I don't... hate it." He states and his eyebrows knit impossibly harder. "Why don't I hate it?" He then looks at the chili dog and takes another bite.

Stiles fist bumps in victory. "Told you you were gonna love it!" Stiles beams and smiles, probably because this is the best day of his life. "Now come on; keep eating."

Derek obliges.

Once Derek is done with his chili dog (Stiles might've stared at him the whole time like a creep, but Derek didn't seem to care, he was too infatuated with the dog to question it), he washes it down with his beverage, placing the empty soda can down on the concrete next to him and sighing contently. "That was better than what I had expected." He rest his forearms on his knees.

"Losing your chili dog virginity is always a memorable moment." Stiles says and Derek gives him a strange look and a laugh.

"That sounds really disgusting." He shakes his head, looking down at his lap but Stiles can see the smile on his lips.

"Hey," Stiles shrugs, placing his hands down to rest on the concrete of the sidewalk. "It was worth it, wasn't it?"

Stiles is kind of mesmerized by the way the streetlight shines on Derek, the crappy yellow lights flickering on his face and reflecting against his eyes, making them shine brighter than how they usually do.

Stiles is pretty sure that the way his stomach jumps isn't because of the chili dog.

Derek stares a bit longer than necessary into his eyes. "Yeah, it was." He says slowly and his lips quirk up into a soft smile and oh.

There's a bit of chili on the side of his mouth.

Stiles tries not to make it obvious that he was staring at his mouth and blinks, trying to form the words in his head. "Um, you've got a little something," He gestures to his own mouth, making a wiping motion. "Here."

Derek brings his hand up to the side where it wasn't dirty. "Here?" He wipes at nothing.

Stiles shakes his head and internally groans. What a fucking cliché. He thinks to himself when he grabs a spare napkin and leans in to wipe Derek's mouth, dangerously close to his soft pink lips.

"Here." Stiles says, his voice low as he concentrates on getting the food off of his face, trying his best to ignore the way his mouth twitches and how close he is to it.

When he finishes, he crumples the napkin in his hands and laughs nervously, avoiding Derek's eyes. "There you go."

Derek doesn't seem to be weirded out or anything, he actually looks kind of amused by it all. He tries to keep his smile soft, but it ends up being a wide one with adorable bunny teeth. "Thanks."

Stiles scratches the back of his head nervously and chuckles. "No problemo, man."

***

Now that they're chili dogs have been consumed, Stiles and Derek still aren't in the mood to go back to Jackson's party, which Stiles is pretty sure still hasn't been shut down by the cops because he got a text from Scott asking for his whereabouts.

Stiles texts back that he's out with a 'friend'.

Scott texts 'cool'.

Right now, Stiles and Derek have decided to take a midnight stroll through a quiet and lonely neighborhood, undisturbed and peaceful because of the lack of music booming all around.

They walk slowly, their shoulders bumping every once in a while and enjoying the cold air of the night upon them.

It's goes silent every now and then, but it's not uncomfortable or awkward like most silences are. It isn't ear ringing empty, it's just calm and Stiles doesn't feel lonely by Derek's side.

It's only been two hours, but Stiles feels like as if he gets Derek more than other people. Others mostly expect him to be rude and grumpy, he might be like that in the beginning, but he transitions into someone who listens and actually has smart and interesting things to say. He isn't an ignorant and douche jock that he's expected to be. He's intelligent, fun and a cool guy.

He's just misunderstood just like everybody else.

"So would you rather have huge, Hulk-like hands," Stiles begins, kicking on a pebble in his way with his hands in his pockets. "Or have small baby hands?"

Derek scoffs at the question. "What?"

Stiles rolls his eyes playfully and throws his head back, looking up at the night sky, the clouds barely even visible due to the darkness. "I said, would you rather," He looks at Derek. "Have Hulk-like ha-"

"I heard you." Derek snorts. "But what the hell kind of question is that?"

Stiles looks at Derek as if he were stupid. "Haven't you ever played Would You Rather?" He asks, because, come on, everyone used to play that back in middle school (along with the horrible games of Truth or Dare where Stiles was always dared to drink out of the toilet while Scott was always dared to kiss the prettiest girl in the room).

"Well, yeah, I have, but-" Derek pauses and sighs, an amused smile on his face. "Big hands." He answers, giving up and not bothering to argue.

Stiles hums and gives him a thoughtful look before nudging his shoulder with his own, looking both ways before crossing a completely empty street (safety first). "Why?" He asks.

Derek actually seems to put some thought into this, clenching his mighty jaw and narrowing his eyes. He crosses his arms against his chest (muscles are very visible and Stiles has never seen a simple black shirt look so good on someone). "Because," He starts, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. "Playing lacrosse would be easier with big hands."

Stiles lets out an aborted sarcastic laugh, shaking his head down at his feet.

"And I don't think that jacking off would be fun with baby hands."

Stiles chokes on his own spit and coughs unattractively, stopping abruptly and gripping onto Derek's well-defined shoulder for support. He's got the image of Derek furiously jerking off with baby hands, and damnit, why does that still look hot in his head?

Derek laughs loudly at his reaction and if it weren't for Stiles nearly getting suffocated by his saliva, he would've stopped and stared in awe, because Derek Hale full-on laughing? That's like, once every blue moon or something.

And Stiles actually feels proud because he actually witnessed it and caused that laugh from Derek, someone who's known for their lack of emotions and constant grumpy attitude. Stiles knows that he isn't the only one that has made Derek laugh before, so he can't feel special about that, but he's just glad he did it. Even if Derek is laughing with him or at him, Stiles is just sort of honored to have caused that.

Stiles wipes some of the spit off from the sides of his mouth, chuckling nervously and glancing over at Derek who's finally settling down a bit.

Derek sighs and he looks like he's genuinely enjoying himself; there's that wide smile and gleaming eyes and Stiles really likes how his shoulders aren't as tense as they usually are. He doesn't look as harmful and brooding as usual.

It's a really good look on him.

"I haven't laughed like this since..." Derek says airily, looking up at the flickering streetlight and tries to remember.

"Since," Stiles clears his throat, his voice raspy due to his previous choking attack. "Forever?" He suggests unsurely, shrugging awkwardly and looking away from Derek, keeping his eyes on the barely lit cracked pavement.

Derek looks over at him and Stiles can feel it even though he's not looking back. There's a moment where there's only silence, the sound of cars in the distance and their feet continuing to guide themselves along the sidewalk. Then there's a sigh from Derek and it's a weird mix between happy and sad in it.

"Yeah," He agrees ruffling his own hair. "Forever's pretty accurate."

"When was the last time you had fun?" Stiles suddenly asks, snapping his head up and pursing his lips at how stupid that must've sound. But he continues when Derek gives him a What-do-you-mean? Look. "Ya' know? Like, the last time you didn't ever want that day to end. The last time you... felt happy to be alive, to be then and there and never wanting it to stop." Stiles stares blankly ahead, trying to remember the last time he himself felt that way.

But it was hard since Stiles doesn't remember having much fun in the past couple of years.

Derek looks kind of speechless by the question, his eyebrows drawn up and his mouth slightly gaping. He scratches the back of his neck nervously, glancing over at Stiles. "My first lacrosse game."

"And that was...?"

"Freshmen year." Derek's a senior now.

Stiles is not surprised but he still asks anyway. "Never had any fun during any parties?"

Derek scoffs sarcastically. "I get drunk at parties; I wake up with a hangover and regretting everything." He answers honestly, shaking his head at himself. "I just try to tell myself it's fun." And then he brings his eyes over at Stiles, looking soft and friendly, words that Stiles never thought he would use to describe Derek. "What about you? The last time you had fun?"

Stiles huffs heavily through his mouth, his lips flapping like a horse's. "Last year I think." He answers, squinting up at the dark sky, trying to remember the events that are now vague and blurry; he was too into the moment at the time to even remember. "Went to a carnival with Scott. It was only me and him, no girlfriends or anything. Just Scotty and I." Stiles sighs at the memory. "Before he and Allison got together."

"But you and McCall seem... close." Derek says, probably recalling the times he's seen Stiles and Scott during practice or in the hallways, two birds of a feather.

"Yeah, we still are, don't get me wrong." Stiles says quickly. "But he seems to be too busy with Allison to spend some actual time with me. Have fun."

Derek stares at him for a few seconds, the look on his face seems a bit sorry for Stiles. "That sucks."

Stiles shrugs indifferently and idly kicks the ground. "I know, but I'm used to it; sometimes I forget I even have a best friend to hang out with." He chuckles bitterly, glancing over at Derek who stares a Stiles a bit longer than necessary.

Stiles frowns, stopping when he watches Derek back up a bit, his eyes not tearing away from Stiles'. "What is it?" He asks, because Derek is taking careful backwards steps, stopping right in front of a house they had just passed.

"Wanna have fun?" Derek asks from a few feet away and Stiles honestly has no idea what the hell is going on. He can see Derek lick his lips nervously, glancing at the house then back at Stiles.

"Wait—what? Derek what the hell are you doing?" Stiles question, his voice a bit too loud for this quiet neighborhood.

Derek simply answers by cocking his head towards the home, suddenly speeding over to the doorbell and ringing it.

He darts away and Stiles stares in awe, frozen in place by the sound of the annoying buzzing sound emerging loudly from the silence in the home.

"Run!" Derek tries his best to keep his voice down, grabbing Stiles from his arm and tugging him away.

Stiles runs, Derek's hand still firmly wrapped around his forearm as he makes a sharp turn at a corner, and he can faintly hear the sound of a door swinging open and a dog barking. The wind blows widely around him but the grip on his arm is almost warm, sending waves across his body. Stiles tries his best not to trip on his own feet, already almost faceplanting onto the ground twice because of Derek's speed.

Adrenaline pumps through his veins as he and Derek slow down once they know that they are out of sight. They both stand in the middle of an empty road, catching their breathes and wiping the cold sweat off of their faces.

Did Derek just ding dong ditch someone?

"What," Stiles begins, gulping saliva down his burning throat. "The fuck?" He looks back up a Derek, narrowing his eyes at him. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

"Did you have fun?" Derek ignores the question, his breathing heavy along with his chest going up and down as he did so. He takes a step forward, only a few inches away from him, too close for Stiles' comfort but he likes it.

He awaits an answer from him, eyes wide and persistent.

It takes Stiles a moment to be able to form actual words, due to his lack of breath from running and how breathtaking Derek looks in the dim light of the lonely neighborhood streetlights. Stiles has the sudden urge to kiss him. But he doesn't.

"Derek, ding dong ditching is for freaking twelve year olds. But that's beside the point; what if they call the cops and my dad—?"

"Stiles." Derek interrupts firmly, leaning in so close that Stiles can see the little hairs growing on his recently shaved cheeks and jaw. His lips are so close to his, yet Stiles can't seem to move. "Was it fun?"

Stiles gulps because yes, it was fun. It was fun to run away from that home, with the burning fear in his stomach because they might get caught. He liked the ache in his legs and the way it was hard to breath, but the wind was blowing all around him and Derek, who didn't even dare to loosen his grip from Stiles not even once.

It was fun because it was with Derek.

Stiles nods and Derek smiles; looking satisfied. To Stiles' dismay, he leans away but he ends up grabbing his hand and pulling him along with him.

They ding dong ditch five other houses in the neighborhood.

***

Stiles and Derek settle down on a swing set at nearby park. Sweating and tingling with excitement from their previous shenanigans, they plop down onto the old worn down swings, laughing even if their chests burn from all the running they had done.

Not once they had gotten caught, moving onto disturbing another neighbor since the residents of the first were now outside of their homes, angrily looking for the teenagers and threatening to call the police.

Stiles never imagined Derek to be the type of guy that enjoys doing these types of things, he just thought Derek was someone who just liked to lay low and not cause any trouble. But, of course he proved him otherwise.

“We’re acting like fucking middle schoolers.” Stiles chuckles and breathes heavily at the end, trying to hold back the wheezing in his throat. He swings slightly, using his legs to push himself, his arms gripping onto the rusty grey chains. “Sitting on a swing set at 3 a.m.”

Derek slumps his shoulders and smiles sheepishly, some of his hair stuck onto his forehead due to the running. Wind and sweat wasn’t a good combination, but he manages to pull it off. Stiles isn’t even sure how this guy is real. “Middle schoolers don’t get to go out at 3 a.m.”

The younger teen nods, smiling and shaking his down at his lap. “True, true.” He says, ignoring the way the swing creaks with every push.

It was completely alone in the park and if Stiles weren’t in such a good mood, he would’ve thought there was some type of serial killer lurking behind the trees waiting to kill them. But Derek was kind of a distraction at the moment, with his hands in his lap as he used one foot to slowly rock himself on the swing, a small yet mesmerizing smile on his face.

“I used to come here with my sister.” Derek begins, looking nostalgic and his eyes dimming at the words. “The older one, Laura. She would push me really hard until I would finally chicken out and tell her to get me off. She was my best friend and I remember that whenever I got to spend some time with her, it always felt like as if time was never going to run out.” He chuckles, but it’s bittersweet.

“What happened to her?” Stiles asks softly, knowing exactly the answer he was going to get, squeezing the chains a bit tighter as Derek purses his lips and tries to shrug nonchalantly, even though Stiles can see the hurt in his eyes.

“She died.” And it sounds like as if he’s said those words so many times before, the tone of his voice was just flat. “Car accident. I don’t remember feeling so lost and empty when I heard those words. It just wasn’t losing a sister, it was like losing a part of me.”

Stiles remains quiet, bringing his gaze over to the ground, relating due to his own personal experience. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He says, afraid to raise his voice any higher than the almost whisper he was using.

“Don’t be.”

“Frontotemporal dementia.” Stiles says, building up the nerve to speak these words and not tearing his eyes off of the ground. “My mom, she had that. Areas of her brain began to shrink, making it harder for her to listen, read, move, talk… be herself.” Stiles swallows the lump in his throat and can feel Derek’s eyes on the side of his head. Stiles stops swinging, the annoying squeaking noise from the swing completely gone. “Sometimes, she would wake up and wouldn’t even look at me. She would blame me and tell me that I was trying to kill her, but I was just a kid; I didn’t even know what was going on.” He takes a deep breath. “My dad wasn’t there when she died, he was off at work. I remember just being there with the doctors, afraid of holding her hand because she thought I was hurting her. When she died, it was the first time in a long time I had saw her look peaceful.”

Derek blinks, taking in a deep breath; he brings his hands up to grip onto the chains. “It’s not easy talking about these types of things.”

“We’ve all got all got our tragedies.” Stiles says, kicking a bit of the sand on the ground, watching the dust disappear into the air.

“I never really talk about it,” Derek admits, giving Stiles a look that the younger teen doesn’t quite understand, but it’s somewhat comforting. “And I can say the same thing about you.”

“You’re not what most people expect you to be.” Stiles blurts suddenly, his mouth doesn't stop moving and the words just flow out of his mouth. But that's him and he's gotten used to his lack of self-control. “You’re sweet and you listen and you’re easy to talk to. Not many people are like that.”

“I…” Derek begins, looking a bit surprised by Stiles’ words, pink blush begins to appear on his cheeks and he coughs awkwardly. “Thanks.” He ends up saying.

“No problem.”

Then Derek’s up on his feet and he looks anxious, stuffing his hands inside of his pocket, his eyebrows are furrowed as he takes a few steps towards Stiles. “Remember when you asked me when was the last time I had fun?” Derek asks, licking his dry lips nervously.

Stiles doesn’t get why he looks so nervous, not even trying to mask it with his usual angry glare. “Yeah?” He says slowly, debating whether or not to get up on his feet or continue to look up at Derek from his swing.

“Well, I had a lot of fun with you tonight, Stiles. More fun than what I would have ever expected and I didn’t even have to get drunk. You’re talkative and funny and kind and I haven’t meant someone like that in a long time.” Derek pauses, taking a breath. “Thanks for this.”

Stiles finally makes his decision, shooting up onto his feet and grabbing Derek by the shoulder and pulling him into a deep kiss.

Derek seems to freeze a bit, but it isn’t long until his hands slowly make their way onto Stiles’ waist, squeezing and pulling him in closer. He kisses back, his lips soft against Stiles’, teeth grazing his bottom lip as they tilt their heads to get the perfect angle.

This is a guy that is almost treated like royalty at school, someone Stiles had always been afraid to talk to, to approach during practice just to start up a simple conversation. Derek isn’t grumpy or bitchy like how most people describe him to be, they just don’t take the time to actually walk up to him and give him a chance, just seeing him as some hot and misunderstood teenager that always has a scowl on his face.

Derek is more than that and he’s managed to prove that in just a few hours, proving that he’s someone who cares and is actually passionate about a lot of things: lacrosse, literature, his family, old movies, cars. Someone who is interesting and hilarious, but hasn’t been given the chance to show people that side of him, already been given a label that doesn’t even make up for half of who he really is.

So Stiles can say that he is happy and extremely lucky to have this guy’s arms wrapped out him, holding him tight as he kisses him as if this were the last time he would ever do it. It’s rough and slow and Stiles can feel how his whole body shakes with the pleasure of Derek’s mouth on his, kissing him with such want and passion, something Stiles never expected from Derek.

Yet again, he never expected half of the things from Derek tonight.

When they separate, their breaths are heavy and their mouths are red and slicked with each other’s spit. Derek still has his arms curled around him, not bothering to let go at all when he speaks.

“It’s late.” He says, staring into Stiles’ brown eyes.

Stiles nods, his eyes staring into Derek’s, not wanting to look away because he feels like if he does it’ll all be gone. “The party’s probably over now.”

Derek returns the nod. “I should take you home.”

Stiles heart flutters, even though he knows that it’s not what he actually wants it to be. But he can wait; he can wait for Derek. “Yeah, yeah sure.” He blurts, pulling away a bit. “But we can… do this again, right?”

The older teen smiles, laughing softly and nodding again. “Yes, of course, I’d love to do this again.” He lets go of Stiles’ waist and replaces it with his hand, gripping onto it slightly and pulls him out of the park.

Yeah, Derek is definitely worth all the waiting in the world.

***

Stiles walks into his home, his mouth still tingling because of the last small peck Derek placed on his lips when they made it into the door (cliché but Stiles can’t help but love it). He tries to shut the door as softly as he can behind him, hoping that his father wasn’t up to question him for making it home at almost 4 a.m.

But of course, his dad just happens to be standing right behind him.

“How was the party?” He flicks on the light, making Stiles jump at his words and the sudden illumination.

Stiles flinches and squints, blinking his eyes at his father to get rid of the blurriness interfering with his vision. The Sheriff stands there with his arms crossed and in his pajamas, but he doesn’t look worried or angry.

“It sucked.” Stiles answers honestly.

“Then why do you finally get here at 4 in the morning?”

The teen can’t help but smile at that. “Because I ended up having a good time.”

The Sheriff doesn’t bother to ask any more questions, even though he looks kind of suspicious. But he lets him go and wishes him a goodnight’s sleep.

Stiles does so and even when he drifts off into a much needed sleep, there’s a faint smile on his face.

***

Stiles wakes up to five text messages from Lydia, asking where the fuck did he go last night. Eight from Scott asking the same, but his way of expressing himself was a lot more concerned than Lydia’s angry and annoyed hungover texts.

He also gets one from Derek, asking if he wants to meet up with him later that afternoon.

Stiles obviously says ‘yes’.