It’s all John Cusack's fault. Specifically, John Cusack in that scene in “Say Anything,” where he holds the boombox over his head for the girl he’s in love with. At least, that’s what Stiles is going to blame, because the look on Derek’s face does not bode well for his continued ability to draw breath.
Ten Minutes Earlier
“That’s brilliant, that’s how I’m’nna do it Scotty,” Stiles had slurred, leaning heavily into Scott in his excitement as the sound of Peter Gabriel’s excellent “In Your Eyes” played through the television speakers.
Scott looked at him with furrowed brows from his place next to Stiles on Derek’s couch, where they were both currently slouched, slightly drunk and marathoning 80’s movies while Derek “works on some things” upstairs, which both had taken to mean “being anywhere where you nerds aren’t”.
“How you’re gonna do what,” Scott asks with his patented confused puppy look.
“How I’m gonna tell Derek that I luff him, Scott,” he answers seriously. “Luff?- lorve-love, love him.”
“You love Derek?”
Stiles face trips over itself with the speed at which Stiles forces it to make his best are you fucking kidding me face. “Duh, Scott. I talk about him almost as much as you talked about Allison when you first started dating. How have you not caught on yet?”
“Huh, when you point it out like that…” Scott scrunches his face up in a way that looks borderline painful before concluding loudly “ Dude , you totally love him!”
Stiles flails wildly, arms pinwheeling frantically to clamp a hand over Scott’s mouth. “Shhhh! You’ll ruin the surprise, Scott!” At Scott’s apologetic nod, Stiles releases his face and continues in an excited whisper, “You gotta help me pick the perfect song!”
Approximately 75 seconds later, Stiles has a karaoke version of his song of choice downloaded to his phone, and is scrambling to the bottom of the stairs. He queues up the song and calls out a slightly less than coherent “Derek!” When he sees the patient and curious slant of Derek’s eyebrows, and the rest of his glorious face and torso, appear at the top of the stairs, Stiles lifts his phone above his head and hits PLAY.
Today is gonna be the day
That they're gonna throw it back to you
By now you should've somehow
Realized what you gotta do
I don't believe that anybody
Feels the way I do about you now
“Stiles, what are you-” Derek has a pinched look on his face; confusion and something like discomfort warring for dominance. Stiles’ resolve momentarily stutters before he pushes the uncertainty aside, cutting Derek off with a loud hushing sound.
“Shh, Der, just listen!” Stiles admonishes, stumbling over the words in his drunken state.
Back beat, the word is on the street
That the fire in your heart is out
I'm sure you've heard it all before
But you never really had a doubt
I don't believe that anybody feels
The way I do about you now
“Stiles, I don’t understand-”
“Derek, listen, it’s important. This is the important part!”
Stiles starts to sing along in earnest now, the mumbling half finished words giving way to full fledged belting, his voice surprisingly rich and capable.
And all the roads we have to walk are winding
Stiles takes a tentative step closer to the staircase.
And all the lights that lead us there are blinding
Derek takes a slightly more certain step toward the top of the staircase.
There are many things that I would
Stiles puts a foot on the bottom stair.
Like to say to you
Derek descends one stair, and then another, eyes locked on Stiles. Another.
But I don't know how
Stiles steps up, again, and again. Eyes searching Derek’s face.
Derek licks his lips, Stiles tracks the movement and stutters over the last word of the line.
You're gonna be the one that saves me
They're almost to the middle of the staircase now; each making slow, steady progress, each looking at the other with awe and tentative, growing tenderness.
And after all
They arrive on the center step at almost the same moment. Stiles’ phone is still clenched tightly in his hand, though it hovers closer to his hip than to his head now. They stand facing each other, only inches apart on the stair, sharing quickened breaths as Stiles half sings half whispers:
You're my wonderwall
The kiss is soft and chaste, a brief, warm press of lips as Derek's hands steady Stiles’ slightly trembling frame with a gentle grip on his arm and hip. As they part, the slightly tinny sound of the rest of the song plays through the speaker on Stiles’ phone, which Derek slips from his death grip to tuck into Stiles’ pocket.
Derek rests their foreheads together, smiles at the contact and clears the emotion from his throat. “Oasis?”
Stiles laughs, slightly startled by the sound of affection in Derek's voice, “Seemed appropriate,” he muses.
Derek whispers “Yeah,” as he cups Stiles’ face and fits their mouths together once more.
(The kiss lasts until they hear Scott’s loud, off-key repetition of the chorus carrying through from the next room. They part, laughing lightly, and make their way to the couch hand in hand. They finish the movie with Scott, Stiles tucked in close to Derek’s side, Derek’s arm draped protectively over his shoulder.)