"I seriously don't understand how you can eat those things," Derek says, looking at Stiles with disgust.
"Fruit Gushers are fucking delicious, okay? Shut up," Stiles replies, breaking off another piece and popping it into his mouth.
"Not when they're all melted together and you can't tell the different flavors apart! Besides, you always buy the variety pack, and you never know whether you're going to open the Tropical flavors or an entire package of Strawberry. And the Strawberry sucks."
Stiles gasps, "You take that back!"
"Never. The Tropical gushers are so much better," Derek declares.
"Have you ever even tasted the green ones? They're awful! No, you know what? I'm going to ignore you said that, and blame it all on the delirium-inducing sauna-like temperatures in our apartment right now," Stiles says.
And he kind of has a point. Regarding the sauna-like temperatures, anyway. The AC went out three days ago, in the middle of one of the hottest summers California has endured in a while. On top of that, their landlord is an absolute asshole who takes pleasure in making them wait another four days before fixing it.
It's not the heat that bothers Derek. He's lived in California most of his life, and the Hales have family all over the south that they visit each summer. Derek is no stranger to extreme heat. In fact, he loves the sun and the warmer temperatures. So no, that's not what has him frustrated. His frustration actually stems from Stiles' inability to wear anything but boxers. Ever since their AC had gone out, Stiles has been walking around wearing next to nothing. And after his shower today, Stiles had entered the living room wearing nothing but a pair of Captain America boxer shorts. He even went out of his way to walk in front of Derek before sprawling on the couch next to him, allowing Derek to follow the shifting of Stiles' muscles with his eyes. How he's never noticed Stiles' lean yet full form before, he'll never understand, but clearly he's been missing out.
If it were anyone but Stiles, Derek wouldn't be bothered by it. Well, that's not entirely true, because he's definitely not immune to the sight of their friend Danny shirtless (most people aren't). But Stiles is Stiles. And despite having lived with him for almost two years now, Derek has never seen Stiles shirtless. Not once. And now he's wishing with everything that he has that he'd seen it before. Because a sweaty and star-fished Stiles is one of the greatest sights Derek's ever seen, and he double majored in Art History and Literature in college.
Stiles continues, "Because there is no way you'd say that if you weren't suffering from extreme heatstroke. That's it, isn't it? You're suffering from heatstroke aren't you?"
Derek rolls his eyes. "Do you even know the symptoms of heatstroke?"
Stiles glares at him. "Of course I know what heatstroke is. I'm a Pre-Med student. You're suffering from delusions, you're sweating, and to top it all off, I can hear your heart beating rapidly from here..."
Derek blushes a little. It's not his fault that his heart is beating so fast! If Stiles wasn't sitting as close to him as he currently is, Derek wouldn't be in this position.
"And now you look flushed. I was just joking before, but now I'm legitimately concerned. Go grab a bottle of water and drink it. Seriously. Go."
Derek rolls his eyes. "Stiles, I'm fine. I'm not suffering from heatstroke."
"Then what the hell is wrong with you?" Stiles demands.
"Nothing, I'm fine." Stiles gives him a look. "Really, I'm fine. Just-do you have to walk around in those?"
Stiles looks down. "What? In my boxers? Derek, I wear boxers all the time. You know this."
Derek sighs. "No, I know, it's just...Usually you've got a shirt on too."
"Wow, so me being shirtless makes you uncomfortable? Way to boost a man's self-confidence, Derek," Stiles says, irritated.
"No, that's not what I-"
"You're such a fucking hypocrite. You walk around like this all the time, and that's totally unfair with your body being the way it is."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Derek asks, indignant.
"Don't play dumb, Derek. You're smarter than that. You have to know what effect all of that," he says, waving his hand towards Derek's body, "has on the human race. With the fucking abs and the arms and holy fuck even your collarbone makes me feel things. And don't even get me started on your fucking stubble."
Derek's eyes widen. "What's wrong with my stubble?"
"Nothing!" Stiles gives an exasperated sigh and jumps off of the couch, "It's fucking perfect. That's the problem. You're over there looking like the love child of a Greek god and a siren or some shit like that, and everyone else pretty much pales in comparison to you."
"Stiles, I'm not the love child of a Greek god or a siren, and I'm not perfect. You of all people should know that," Derek says.
Stiles starts pacing. "Yeah, but the fact that you know you're not perfect makes you perfect."
"Well what about you?" Derek asks, frustrated.
Stiles freezes, confused, and asks, "Me, what about me?"
"You're basically flawless, with moles that are surprisingly everywhere, and your fucking hands–oh my god, Stiles, those fucking hands. And why the hell are you always wearing multiple layers? You really have no idea what kind of effect you have on people. I'm not the only one at fault for that," Derek replies.
"What do you mean the effect I have on people? I don't have an effect on people. There's a reason why I've been single for almost the entire time that I've known you, and it's because not many people want a piece of this when there's a piece of that nearby," Stiles says.
Derek snorts. "I think you're the one suffering from heatstroke. You're being delusional right now. You're probably one of the most attractive people that I've ever met. And I'm not the only one that thinks that."
Stiles' jaw drops. "What are you talking about?"
"You really have no idea, do you?" Derek asks in disbelief.
Stiles shakes his head. "Care to elaborate there, Der?"
Rather than explaining to him verbally, Derek rises from the couch and closes the distance between himself an Stiles. Before he can stop himself, Derek grabs Stiles' waist to pull him closer and crushes their lips together. Stiles doesn't react for the first few seconds, and Derek begins to pull away because he thinks he misinterpreted everything. Before he can actually pull back, Stiles' hand comes up to the back of Derek's head holding him there.
Stiles walks Derek back to the couch, where they stumble a little while trying to sit down. When they're settled, Stiles ends up straddling Derek's legs. Derek pulls away for a second to breathe and whispers, "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."
Stiles kisses him again and says, "Tell me."
"Your sophomore year of high school at Jackson's birthday party," Derek confesses.
"Seriously? I thought we all made a pact never to speak of that again!" Stiles complains, burying his face in Derek's neck.
Derek chuckles. "You're the one who asked, Stiles."
"Yeah, but how was I supposed to know that you've been pining for me since I lost my swim trunks in the pool when I was 16?!" he exclaims.
"I thought we weren't going to talk about it!"
"You're not allowed to talk about it. I can mention it whenever I want."
"That's such a double standard," Derek says, shaking his head.
Stiles shrugs. "Details. Now, can we go back to the making out thing, because that was really good."
Derek laughs and pulls Stiles up against his chest. He lets their lips get as close as they can without actually connecting and says, "I want you to know that I'm in this all the way, okay?
Stiles blinks, licks his lips and says, "I just want you to know that I'm trying very hard to focus solely on the sweetness behind that statement and not on the many innuendos that I could be making."
"And I appreciate that."
Stiles grins and leans forward, kissing Derek again. Derek's hands start moving and one ends up on the back of his neck while the other moves just above his ass and pulls him even closer, dragging him across his lap. Stiles moans and drags his tongue across Derek's lips, requesting entrance into Derek's mouth. He immediately responds and Stiles begins mapping out Derek's mouth with his tongue.
Kissing Stiles feels like everything Derek has ever hoped for and so much more. It feels like time has stopped.
And maybe it has. because they are so engrossed in getting to know the feel of the other's mouth that neither of them hear the key turning in the lock.
They also don't hear the door opening. Or the sound of a purse dropping onto the floor.
They do, however, hear someone shout, "YOU OWE ME FIFTY BUCKS, PAY UP!"
This causes them to break apart, and makes Stiles fall off of Derek's lap and onto his ass, his face flushed. This is followed shortly by Cora asking Laura if she accepts IOUs.