"Do you think kissing's that big of a deal?"
Derek looked back to where Stiles was jumping along behind him—yes, jumping, because it had rained the night before and there were puddles all along the path to the park. Stiles had apparently made it his mission to land square in the middle of every single one. Derek was walking just far enough ahead to avoid getting caught by the fallout.
"Your socks and shoes are going to be wet and squishy," Derek said.
"Then I'll take 'em off while we're playing, duh." Stiles rolled his entire head, like just rolling his eyes wouldn't be enough to encompass how stupid Derek was being. "Do you think kissing's that big of a deal?"
Derek shrugged and swung his bat up so it was resting on his shoulder. "Why do you care? You're eight."
"Because every time I come over to see you, Laura's talking about kissing Jordan." Stiles made a face. "It sounds gross, but she is thirteen, so she's probably not doing something just because it's gross. Laura's weird, but she's not that weird. And Mom and Dad kiss all the time. And so do your parents."
He had no clue where this conversation was going. When Stiles got an idea into his head, there was really no telling where it would end up. "Maybe it's a big deal for grown-ups?" Derek suggested.
Stiles chewed on his lip thoughtfully, and splashed into another puddle. "Do you want to try?"
Derek spun around and stopped in his tracks. "What?"
Stiles gestured between them with his baseball glove. "We could kiss. See why Laura won't shut up about it."
"I think Laura's more concerned with the fact that it's Jordan," Derek said.
"You're not even a little curious?" Stiles asked.
Derek frowned. He was, but... "I think it's supposed to be with your boyfriend. Or your girlfriend. Or your spouse. You know. Someone you love."
"So?" Stiles shrugged. "It'll be practice. Besides, Dad says Mom is his best friend, and you're my best friend aside from Scott."
Derek sighed. "Okay, fine. Let's practice."
Stiles beamed and ran over to Derek, thankfully avoiding the puddles between them, and then planted a kiss right on Derek's lips.
It was weird.
Stiles pulled back and frowned, poking at his lips. "That's what Laura won't shut up about?"
"Yeah." Derek shook his head. "I don't see the appeal."
"I mean I don't see why anyone would want to do it," he clarified.
"Yeah." Stiles tossed his glove into the air. "First one to the park gets to pitch?"
Derek grinned, then took off down the road, Stiles shouting angrily behind him.
"How do I look?" Derek asked, spreading out his arms.
Stiles didn't even look up from his comic book. "That's like the fifth time you've asked me, dude. You're fine."
Derek rolled his eyes and snatched the comic away from him. Stiles squawked and tried to grab it back. "Rude!"
Derek yanked the book farther from his grabby fingers. "Come on, this is my first date! You're supposed to be helping me, not reading comics."
"I literally said I was coming over to steal all your Batman comics," Stiles said. "Those were the words that came out of my mouth. Why isn't Boyd helping you with this stuff, anyway?"
"Because he's working tonight, Erica's grounded, and Isaac's at a study group. That's why I called you."
Stiles clutched his heart. "I'm wounded, man. I'm actually hurt. I can't believe I wasn't even the second person you'd call. Or the third!"
Derek threw the comic back on the bed in frustration. "Oh yeah, because you've been such a great help so far."
"What is your problem?" Stiles swung his legs over the edge of the bed and bounced on it. "Paige already agreed to go out with you. I think that's a pretty good indication that she's into you. Like, really into you."
Derek shoved his hands into his pockets and looked out the window. "It's just...nerve-wracking, okay? Like, we like each other at school, but what if we don't after the movie? What if the date goes horribly? What if she wants to kiss? I've never kissed anyone!"
His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest, and Derek dropped into his desk chair and rested his head in his hands.
"Whoa, dude." Stiles stood and awkwardly patted Derek's shoulder. "You need to relax."
"I'm relaxed," Derek said through gritted teeth.
Stiles snorted. "Yeah, that's believable. How long do you have before you have to be there?"
He glanced at his phone. "I'm meeting her at the movies in 30 minutes."
"Okay." Stiles clapped his hands. "Stand up. We're gonna practice kissing."
Surely he'd misheard. Derek slowly looked up at Stiles and blinked. "What."
"You said you were nervous about kissing her, right?" Stiles made a "stand up" gesture. "Well, you can practice kissing me and that way you won't be nervous about it. At least you'll know if you're any good."
"That doesn't make any sense," Derek said, but he stood up. He was still a few inches taller than Stiles, but he had a feeling that wouldn't last another year. "What do you know about kissing?"
Stiles gasped in mock offense. "Excuse you, but I have spent five years hanging on to every word Lydia Martin has to say, and that means I know at least a little about kissing."
Derek raised his eyebrows and didn't even bother to keep the scorn out of his voice. "Really."
Stiles punched him in the shoulder. "Yes, really, you jerk. Now do you want my help or not?"
Derek shoved his hands in his pockets. "Okay, fine. Let's practice."
He wasn't sure what to expect, but it wasn't Stiles darting in to peck him on the lips and then pulling away just as quickly.
"There, you see?" Stiles said. "Nothing to be nervous about."
Derek rolled his eyes so hard he nearly gave himself a headache. "That's not how I'm kissing her! That's how you kiss your grandmother."
"Well, how are you going to kiss her, smart guy?"
The challenge in the question made him glare, and before he knew what he was doing, Derek had stepped forward so he was right in front of Stiles, close enough to count his eyelashes. "I'm going to kiss her like this."
He leaned over and pressed his lips to Stiles's, gentle and deliberate. His heart pounded harder now, blood roaring in his ears. It was just Stiles. It was just kissing. But it also wasn't.
Derek drew back, breaking the kiss, breathing harder than he should've been for a three-second press of the lips. Stiles was staring at him, amber eyes huge and his mouth gaping a little now that it wasn't otherwise occupied.
"Like that," Derek said. Wow, he sounded breathless.
"Oh." Stiles still looked dazed. "Yeah, um. Yeah, I think that's good. You're good."
Stiles nodded. "Yeah." He backed up toward the bed and cleared his throat. "Well, I'm going to steal your Batman comics and get out of here before I make you late for your date."
"Okay," Derek said, even though he was pretty sure he still had at least 20 minutes before he had to leave. "I'll text you later?"
Stiles snagged the comics and gave him a little finger wave. "Sure! Later, man. Have fun!"
With that, he was out the door, and Derek was much less nervous, but far more confused.
"A kissing booth?"
Stiles crossed his arms and glared. "Shut up, asshole."
Derek tried, he really did, but he couldn't stop laughing. He had to sit down on Stiles's bed before he fell over. "I'm away at college for two months and you get roped into doing a kissing booth."
"Clearly it's because you were gone and nobody was around to stop me from signing up for this monumentally shitastic idea."
Derek wiped actual tears from his eyes. "Like you ever listen to me."
Stiles jabbed a finger at him. "You would have been able to say no to Lydia!"
"It's cute that you think I'd have helped you get out of this."
"Ugh." Stiles dropped onto the bed beside him, elbowing Derek as he did. "College has made you such a dick."
Derek elbowed him back. "I'm perfectly nice at college. I guess it's just being around you that makes me a jerk."
Stiles made a face at him, and Derek laughed again.
"Yeah, yeah, it's hilarious." Stiles sighed. "I have no idea why Lydia even asked me to do this. It's not like anybody's going to be lining up outside the booth to kiss me."
"Hey." Derek stopped laughing, suddenly serious. "That's not true."
"Seriously?" Stiles waved a hand over himself. "Look at me. Do you really think there's anybody at school who wants to get all up on this?"
Derek looked him over, trying to see through the eyes of a potential romantic partner. They were the same height now, although Stiles was still growing into his arms and legs. The buzz cut he'd had since he was thirteen wasn't very flattering, but the wide amber eyes and full pink lips were definitely attractive. Derek would be surprised if Stiles hadn't driven anyone to distraction with the way he constantly chewed on them.
Stiles's pale cheeks flushed pink. "Stop looking at me like that. I feel like I'm under a microscope."
"You asked for my opinion," Derek pointed out. "And I think there are a lot of people at school who'd want to 'get all up on that.' If not, they're idiots."
Stiles rolled his eyes, but the flush on his cheeks didn't go away. "You're just saying that because you're my friend."
"Yes, because I've always spared your feelings before." Derek poked him. "I bet Lydia asked you because she knows people will be lined up around the block to get to your booth."
Stiles ducked his head and muttered something Derek couldn't hear.
Stiles groaned and wiped a hand over his face. "I said, it doesn't matter because I can't kiss anyway."
Derek couldn't hide his shock. "What are you talking about?"
"The last time I kissed someone, it was you, and that doesn't count because I was thirteen and it was for practice." Stiles flopped back on the bed and threw an arm over his face, revealing a sliver of pale skin and happy trail where his shirt pulled up. "I can't believe I let Lydia talk me into this."
Derek had to jerk his eyes away from Stiles's stomach, his cheeks unusually warm from the sight. "Do you want to practice some more?"
Stiles peeked out from under his arm. "What?"
Derek turned away to study Stiles's ratty desk chair, which hadn't been replaced in at least three years. "You helped me when I was nervous about Paige. We can practice now so you'll be ready for the booth."
He chanced a look back at Stiles, who had levered himself up onto his elbows. "You want to practice kissing with me?" Stiles asked, like he still couldn't believe what Derek had said.
Derek sighed, stood up, and held out his hand. "Will you feel better if you know what kind of kisser you are before people start lining up for the booth?"
"Well, yeah, but—"
"Then come on." Derek motioned to him. "Get up, and let's practice."
Stiles scoffed and cursed, but he got off the bed and stood in front of Derek. "Okay, so what now, big guy?"
Why was his heart beating so fast all of a sudden? It wasn't like they hadn't done this before. They'd done it twice, in fact. He wasn't even attracted to Stiles. And yet, Derek was nervous about it.
This was ridiculous. Derek pushed away his nerves and stepped closer to Stiles, resting one hand on his hip and the other on his neck. Stiles sucked in a breath, his tongue darting out to skate over his lips, and Derek couldn't help watching the movement.
"Are there any rules for the booth?" he asked.
Stiles smirked. "No tongue for less than five dollars."
Derek laughed softly, picturing Lydia writing it up on a board while she'd been brainstorming about the booth. "That sounds like a Lydia rule."
"Yeah." Stiles's eyes were huge this close. "So. Um. How do we do this?"
Derek considered. "We'll do it once with tongue, and once without. That way you'll be ready for both."
"I don't think I'll ever be ready," Stiles muttered, "but okay, let's do this thing."
Derek pulled Stiles in a little closer and kissed him. He kept it light, didn't try to press, because from the way Stiles's pulse was jumping in his neck, under Derek's thumb, he was almost as nervous as Derek was. Don't be nervous, he wanted to say. You're doing fine. We're fine.
Gently, he ran his tongue along Stiles's lower lip, and then sucked on it. Stiles let out a soft whine and tightened his grip on Derek's hips. His mouth fell open just a bit, which had always been an invitation, and Derek slipped his tongue inside to explore his warmth.
Stiles stiffened under his hands, body going rigid, and Derek stopped and pulled back immediately, dread curling in his gut. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "Was that too much? Too fast?"
"I, um." Stiles licked his lips and stepped away, out of Derek's reach. "No, that was good. I think I've got the hang of it now."
Derek let his hands fall to his sides. He was shaking. Why was he shaking? "Oh. Well, good. You'll do great at the kissing booth."
"Heh. Thanks." Stiles shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders a bit. "Anyway, I've got an essay due Monday that I need to start on. I'll see you at the movies tomorrow?"
Derek nodded, blindsided and dazed and a little...turned on? "Yeah." He nodded again, feeling like an idiot. "Tomorrow. I'll text you."
Stiles turned back to his desk and Derek left quickly, pausing just long enough to wave at Sheriff Stilinski, who raised his cup of coffee in farewell and didn't look up from the paperwork he had strewn on the kitchen table.
Once he was out the door, Derek fled to his car and glared down at his crotch, where his cock was half-hard and getting harder the more he thought about the kiss. He cursed and adjusted himself, not that it helped.
He was attracted to Stiles.
He was attracted to Stiles.
Holy shit, Derek had never been attracted to a guy in his life. Then again, he really hadn't let himself be, had he? He'd fallen for Paige during English class freshman year when they worked on a group project, and it had taken him until they were sophomores to ask her out. He hadn't had eyes for anyone but her until they'd broken up after graduation, since they were going to colleges on opposite coasts and neither of them wanted to do the long distance thing. Derek had been more focused on school than dating these past couple of months at Berkeley, but now...
He turned on his car and pulled out of the Stilinskis' driveway. It was probably best if he had a sexual identity crisis somewhere slightly more private.
Derek tried to focus on his textbook and the two chapters of reading he still had to finish before his class the next day, but it was difficult with Scott and Stiles drunkenly playing Mario Kart on the couch. In an effort to be both "cool" and responsible (and as the only one of them old enough to purchase alcohol), Derek had agreed to supply them with booze if they promised to only drink it at his apartment. It meant he'd been the inadvertent host to more parties than he liked, but it also meant that he could keep an eye on how much they were drinking and keep them from getting into trouble. In general, he took it as a win, although that was tough to remember on Thursday nights when they decided midnight video game tournaments were a good idea.
He got another cup of coffee and turned up the volume on his music, hoping to drown out the sound of swearing whenever one of the dumbasses on his couch blasted the other with a blue shell.
The next thing he knew, Stiles was pulling one of his earbuds out, and Derek lashed out with a highlighter in his shock. "What the hell, Stiles?"
Stiles blinked at the yellow line along his arm, poked it, and then flopped into the chair next to Derek like rag doll. "I said your name three times an' you didn't hear me."
Derek gestured to his book. "I'm trying to finish this chapter before tomorrow. Go back and play with Scott."
"Can't." Stiles rolled his head over toward the couch. "Scott's asleep."
Derek looked back. Sure enough, Scott was sprawled on the couch, face shoved into one throw pillow as he cuddled another to his chest. Typical. Scott was a sleepy drunk.
Oh well. Derek would make sure to set out some water and aspirin before he went to bed.
Stiles stretched his arms across the table and rested his head on them. "Deeeereeeeek, I'm booooored."
"You're drunk." Derek stood and went to the cabinet for a cup. "Here, drink some water. That will make you less bored."
"No it won't," Stiles grumbled, but he accepted the full glass when Derek gave it to him.
The good deed netted Derek all of two minutes of peace before Stiles started whining again. "Derek, pay attention to me."
Derek poked him with the butt of the highlighter. "I told you when you came over that I had homework."
Stiles made a face. "You've got two months until you finish college. Why do you still have homework?"
Derek rolled his eyes. "Because I haven't actually finished college yet."
Stiles groaned and rested his forehead on the table. Derek waited a beat; when no other questions seemed forthcoming, he let out a quiet sigh of relief and went back to his reading.
"I miss kissing."
Derek froze, his highlighter half an inch above his book, and he slowly looked up. Stiles was still face-down on the table, and he hadn't moved, hadn't given any indication that he'd actually spoken, but the words still echoed in Derek's head.
He'd done a good job of not thinking about kissing and Stiles for the past three years. Part of that had been because they'd been in different towns—Stiles still in Beacon Hills in high school, and Derek in Berkeley for college—and because Derek was moderately more concerned with figuring out why he was suddenly attracted to one of his closest friends since childhood.
(According to Erica, it was because he was "demisexual and biromantic.")
But still, Stiles had never given him any indication that he felt anything other than friendship, and Derek knew well at this point that being sexually attracted to someone didn't mean you had to do anything about it. Besides, he had plenty of other things to focus on, like finishing his classes and applying to grad school and looking for jobs. Important things like that.
"I miss kissing," Stiles said again, and this time he turned his head so one bleary amber eye peeked out from above his arm. "Don't you miss kissing?"
Derek shrugged. "I don't think about it too much."
Liar, liar, pants on fire. He didn't in general, but when it came to Stiles...well, Derek had been thinking about kissing him more and more since he'd come to college at Berkeley as well.
"I haven't kissed anyone since high school," Stiles lamented. "That's like forever ago. I'm gonna forget how."
For God's sake. "You are not," Derek said.
Derek sighed and pushed his glasses up with one finger so he could rub the bridge of his nose. "You are not going to forget how to kiss, Stiles."
"You don't know that," Stiles said. "Maybe the kissing part of my brain is atruh...afro...atrophying. Maybe I'll never remember."
"You remember everything you read about the history of circumcision for that paper your freshman year in high school," Derek said. "I doubt you're going to forget how to kiss in eighteen months."
Stiles held up two fingers. "Two years."
"Whatever." Derek went back to his book. "My point stands."
"We should practice," Stiles said.
Derek raised his eyes from the book to see Stiles looking right at him, cheeks flushed and hair messy, but looking moderately more alert than he had thirty seconds earlier. Derek cleared his throat and squashed down how much he wanted that. "You're drunk."
"So you don't know what you're saying."
Stiles stuck out his tongue. "I'm not that drunk." He widened his liquid amber eyes pleadingly. "Come on, Derek. Just one practice kiss, so I know I'm not losing my touch?"
Damn it, damn it, Derek knew he should say no, but he'd never been very good at resisting Stiles, and right now, he didn't really want to. He sighed and pushed away from the table. "Fine. Just one. And then I need to get back to work and you probably need to go to sleep."
"Sleep is for the weak," Stiles said with a grin and a drunken dance in his chair. "Now come on and lay one on me, big guy."
"You're a moron." Derek stood and pulled Stiles's chair out from under the table, turning it so that they were facing each other. Stiles started to stand, but Derek put a hand on his chest and pushed him back down. "Stay there. I don't want you falling over and braining yourself on the table."
"That happened one time," Stiles grumbled, but he didn't try to get back up.
Derek cupped the back of Stiles's head, reminded himself just practice, and leaned over to kiss him lightly.
It wasn't like last time. Stiles didn't stiffen when they touched, didn't hold himself rigid with nerves. He opened his mouth with a soft moan as soon as their lips touched, grabbed at Derek's hips to pull him closer, and Derek obliged, melting into the kiss.
Stiles tasted like beer and whatever godawful alcohols he and Scott were combining earlier in the evening, but Derek barely noticed. Stiles kissed like he was made for it, like he'd been born knowing how to do it, even though Derek knew from experience that wasn't true. It made him dizzy, made his knees weak, and all he wanted to do was stay right here, with his fingers scratching through the short hairs on the back of Stiles's neck and just kissing him until they couldn't remember their own names.
But he did have to breathe, so Derek pecked him once more on the corner of his lips and drew back to take a deep, shaking breath. "Well. You've definitely gotten better at that."
Stiles didn't respond. Instead, he sagged to the side, his eyes closed and breathing deeply.
Derek groaned inwardly. He was asleep. Half-asleep, at least. For fuck's sake.
He mentally doused himself in cold water and pulled Stiles's arm around his shoulders. "Come on, Stiles. Bedtime."
"Duh wanna," Stiles mumbled, but he stood up when Derek hoisted him out of the chair.
Getting down the short hallway to his bedroom was an adventure, with Stiles trying to fall asleep on his shoulder and occasionally tripping over his shoes, but Derek managed it without injuring either of them. He helped Stiles sit on the bed, and Stiles immediately flopped backward with a moan. "Spinny cloud."
"Yeah, spinny cloud," Derek muttered, kneeling to take Stiles's shoes off. "Get some sleep."
Stiles crawled up the bed and faceplanted into Derek's pillow, mumbling something into the fabric that Derek couldn't hear. Probably for the best, in all honesty.
He stood in the doorway, staring at Stiles's body splayed across his bed, and then he closed his eyes and lightly thudded his head against the doorjamb.
At some point in the past three years—Derek wasn't entirely sure when—this thing had changed from "attraction" to "love." He was stupidly in love with this boy, and didn't have the faintest idea of what to do about it.
Stiles's twenty-first birthday came with far less fanfare than Derek had anticipated. He'd been sure there would be a blowout to end all blowouts with a hundred people attending, which would go until at least four in the morning and end only when the cops had been called at least twice and someone had been arrested.
Instead, the group at Scott and Stiles's apartment consisted of less than fifteen people, most of whom Derek had known since high school. The only ones he hadn't were Allison, Scott's girlfriend of six months; Kira, who had been Stiles's lab partner throughout their entire junior year; and Mason, who was two years younger than everybody else and surprisingly happy to be the designated driver for the evening.
Not that they really needed one; most everyone was only tipsy, not drunk, and they'd spent most of the evening crowding around the TV to play Rock Band.
"I can't believe you've still got a set!" Erica had cried gleefully when she'd spotted the drums. "I can't believe it still works!"
Now she, Boyd, Mason, and Kira were making their way through the playlist, with Lydia and Allison backing Kira up on extra microphones. Isaac, Cora, and Scott were cheering them on, and Jackson was lying across the armchair and grumbling about being kicked off the bass.
Stiles was, surprisingly, nowhere to be found.
Derek grabbed another beer from the fridge and went looking for him, but he wasn't anywhere to be found in the apartment. Before he panicked and alerted the others, he decided to check the roof.
Sure enough, Stiles was sitting on an old bench he and Scott had dragged up there last year, gazing up at the stars and drinking a beer. The waxing moon shone on him, and he was so beautiful he took Derek's breath away.
Derek was still in love with him. He'd spent two years hoping it would pass, two years trying to make it go away (probably longer, if he was really being honest with himself), because he'd been certain Stiles didn't feel the same way about him. Or maybe just afraid that he didn't.
He took a deep breath, thinking back to the conversation he'd had with Boyd the night before Boyd finally asked Erica out on a date. Derek had encouraged him, saying, "You never know until you ask. And really, what do you have to lose?"
It was high time he took his own damn advice.
Derek sauntered over to the bench and sat. "I was about to call in a missing persons report."
Stiles snorted and took another swig of his beer. "I've only been gone for fifteen minutes."
Derek knocked his knee into Stiles's. "You okay?"
Stiles smiled up at the sky. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking, you know? Everything's changing. You and Boyd are about to finish grad school, Lydia's graduating early, Scott and Allison are spending next semester in France, and in just one year the rest of us will graduate and go off," he spread his fingers, "poof. Out into the world. This'll be one of the last times we're all together."
Derek nodded. "Probably."
Stiles whipped his head around to look at him. "What? Dude, you're supposed to tell me that we'll always be together, blah blah blah."
"I've never lied to you before," Derek said. "Why would I start now? I mean, you're probably right. This will be one of the last times we're all together like this. But it's not the last time we'll all see each other. Boyd and Erica are going to get married as soon as he finishes school, Cora's following Lydia to grad school," he swatted Stiles on the shoulder, "you'll be Scott's best man whenever he and Allison get married."
"They've only been dating six months!" Stiles protested.
Derek raised his eyebrows.
Stiles sighed and nodded. "Okay, yeah, you're right, he's probably going to propose by Christmas."
"My point is, it'll be different, because we'll be different, but we'll still be around each other." Derek took a sip of his own beer and looked up at the star-speckled night sky. "We survived high school and college together. I can't imagine surviving the rest of my life without you idiots."
Stiles laughed and elbowed him. "Ass."
Derek elbowed him back. "Dick."
They fell back against the bench together, Stiles's arm pressed along Derek's, warm and solid. Derek switched his beer to his left hand and didn't move away.
"So what about you?" Stiles asked. "You got any special plans for after graduation?"
"Not really," Derek admitted, and took a steadying breath. This was it. "I do have a plan before graduation, though."
Stiles gasped and clutched his heart. "What? What's this? What doth my ears hear? Derek Hale, admitting potential romantic and-or sexual feelings for another human being?"
Derek shook his head and laughed, hoping he didn't sound as nervous as he felt. "Yes, I am. I've...known him awhile, and he's..." He trailed off and looked Stiles right in the eye. "He's one of the best people I know."
Something flickered across Stiles's face, an emotion Derek didn't recognize, but it was gone in a flash and Stiles was smiling again. "Well, good for you. When do we get to meet this guy?"
"That's the thing." Derek wiped his sweaty palm on his jeans. Shit, he wished he had more than a beer for this. "I haven't...asked him for anything yet. I'm nervous about it, because I know at this point he has way more experience than I do, and I don't think he would care, but..."
"Oh." Stiles cleared his throat. "Well...I mean, if memory serves, you have absolutely nothing to worry about on that front, but if it would help...do you want to practice?"
No matter how many times they'd said it to each other before, the question meant more at that moment than Derek had ever felt. He nodded, his gaze fixed on Stiles's lips. "Yeah. Yeah, I really would."
This time, Stiles put a hand on Derek's cheek, rubbing a thumb over his beard, and Derek shivered. It was the first time Stiles had really touched him during this, and he opened his mouth to mention it when Stiles kissed him instead.
It was slow and sweet and different, not stiff and nervous or drunk and sloppy, but utterly focused. Stiles knew exactly where to put his lips and where to put his tongue, grazed his teeth along Derek's bottom lip in a way that made shivers run down his spine, continued to rub his thumb along Derek's cheek.
All Derek could do was kiss him back, kiss him with all the feelings he'd been burying for years now, all the promises he wanted to make. He wanted this to be their last practice kiss and their first real kiss, the first of many for the rest of their lives.
God, he was so far gone.
He grabbed Stiles's hips and hauled him over so that he was straddling Derek's lap, his knees on the bench and his hips now dangerously close to Derek's very hard cock.
Stiles pulled back, blinking dazedly. Derek tried to chase him, to pull him back into a kiss, but Stiles flatted his hands against Derek's chest and kept him down.
"I, um." Stiles shook his head. "Yeah, dude. That guy will be super happy about that."
Derek wanted to bash his head against a wall. "Stiles, the guy is you."
"Me?" Stiles's brow furrowed, and then cleared, and his mouth dropped open in shock. He pointed at himself. "Wait, me? You want to date me?"
Derek nodded and dragged his hands up Stiles's sides. "Have for a while now."
"Oh my God, you mean we could've been doing this for months, you asshole?"
Derek raised his eyebrow. "Do you want to keep swearing at me, or do you want to go back to kissing?"
"Kissing, fuck, you fucking..." Stiles bent over and kissed him, deep and filthy, and it made Derek's toes curl. "Oh my God, I can't believe...wait. I'm one of the best people you know?"
"Yeah." Derek kissed his cheek, peppered kisses along the moles on his jaw. "You really are."
"You have terrible standards," Stiles said with an utterly blinding grin, and bent over to kiss him again.
When Derek broke away a moment later for air, he said, "You know what we've never practiced?"
Stiles nosed along his neck. "What's that?"
Stiles shuddered and bucked his hips into Derek. "Well, practice makes perfect."
Derek was halfway to the sanctuary when someone grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the men's bathroom. He wasn't really surprised to see it was Stiles.
He did his best to look reproving. "You know, you're not supposed to see the bride before the wedding."
Stiles pressed him up against the bathroom door with a lascivious grin. "Good thing neither of us are brides."
Derek ran his fingers along Stiles's dark green tie. "You have a point. So why did you haul me into the bathroom?"
"Because it's a momentous occasion," Stiles said.
Derek's lips twitched. "Marriage usually is."
"While true, not what I'm talking about." Stiles poked him in the chest. "This, right here, will be our last unmarried kiss."
The idea sent a shiver through Derek, and he grabbed hold of Stiles's lapels. "Our last unmarried kiss?"
Stiles nodded solemnly. "Mm-hm. So we have to make it count."
Derek leaned forward and kissed the corner of Stiles's mouth. "I'm on board with that."
Stiles turned his head and Derek captured his lips, kissing his fiancé of one year, his boyfriend of three years, and his best friend since he was eight years old. It was familiar by now—the way Stiles tasted, the way he sighed when Derek sucked on his lip or gasped when Derek licked into his mouth—but it never stopped thrilling him, never stopped making his heart pound faster.
And he would get to kiss Stiles like this for the rest of his life.
Derek would have stayed here and gladly kissed Stiles until someone came and got them, but he had a feeling Lydia would be mightily displeased if they were late to their own wedding. Reluctantly, he broke away and smoothed Stiles's suit, hoping it didn't look rumpled.
"That was a good last unmarried kiss," he said.
"Yeah." Stiles grinned. "It really was."
Derek leaned over and whispered in his ear, "I bet our first married kiss is going to be even better."
Stiles beamed at him. "Well, we have had a lot of practice."