Derek finds Stiles sitting on the couch, face covered with his hands, groaning. He can’t stop a little smile. Seeing Stiles after all day at work is everything he needs for all the stress to leave his body, and he really doesn’t care how pathetic the admission makes him.
“What’s the matter?” Derek asks as he drops his ass next to his ‘better’ half.
Stiles doesn’t uncover his face, just nudges something on the coffee table with his knee. Derek lifts it and his smile gets wider. “The wedding pictures finally arrived.”
There is another groan from Stiles. It sounds almost pained.
Derek lifts his eyebrows and starts to list through the photos with growing curiosity. Why is Stiles so upset?
“It’s the first one.” Stiles finally speaks.
“Well, hello to you, too,” Derek snickers and Stiles peaks through his fingers.
“Hi,” he peeps, little ashamed, and then lets his hands fall and leans forward to give Derek proper welcome kiss.
“Hi,” Derek smiles at him watching as Stiles’ eyes flutter open. “Wanna tell me what’s all this about?”
Stiles groans again, and nods towards the pictures. “Look at it and tell me you don’t see it.”
Derek looks down at the picture on the top of the others. It’s them in the wedding suits, standing in the park where the photograph Lydia insisted on, took their pictures.
“It’s very nice,” Derek says after a moment. Posing like this was all kinds of unnatural for them, but it turned out nicely. Derek is holding in his hands proof that one of the happiest days in his life really happened. He loves it, if only for that.
Stiles huffs and takes it from his hands. “Are you kidding me? I look like I want to murder you! Viciously! This supposed to be a happy adorable wedding photo and I look like on a mugshot!”
Derek knows laughing is the worst possible reaction, now, so he bites his tongue and looks at the photo again. The thing is… Stiles does look kind of pissed. Adorably pissed and Derek doesn’t really cares because he loves Stiles’ stupid face in all variations, but yeah, definitely pissed.
If Derek recalls their wedding correctly, Stiles had all rights for this expression, too. If there was something that could go wrong that day, it did. There was a car accident, spilled wine, lost rings, baby crying in the middle of the Stiles’ vow, allergic reaction during the banquet, and the worst fucking DJ ever. Stiles worked hard on their wedding. Or more like, he was forced to work hard by Lydia.
In the end, Derek had to take him away early and put Stiles’ mind of it with all his abilities and determination, because his beautiful amazing husband was on the brink of tears.
“You don’t,” Derek shakes his head with a small privet smile. Stiles gives him his best bullshit look, but Derek only smiles a little more. “You look hot.”
“Very,” Derek adds, eyeing said photography. It’s true. Stiles has been always looking good in a suit, but the one he had on their wedding made him look… well, hot.
“You think?” Stiles asks and takes another look on that, for him, infuriating picture. Derek can see his expression changing. Stiles is thinking about it. And he likes it. Derek can tell.
Derek leans forward and presses his lips right under Stiles’ ear, where is the pale skin soft and warm. Tempting. “Yes,” he breaths out softly. Stiles shudders and Derek bites down a satisfied smile. He can smell Stiles’ rising arousal, feel his skin getting warmer, his heart beating faster. “You look perfect,” Derek whispers and kisses Stiles low on his throat.
“Derek,” Stiles whines quietly and the werewolf can hear the photographs falling on the floor like heavy snowflakes. Next second he’s lying on top of Stiles, smiling in sight of his husband’s shining amber eyes. Stiles’ cheeks are flushed, pupils blown, lips slightly parted. Together with his flailing, babbling and stubborn loyalty, it makes him the most perfect thing Derek ever saw.
And he has a lifetime to prove it to him.