It’s a Monday when Derek first sees him.
The boy is pale, kind of lanky with stupid, awesome hair that’s just tousled enough to look like he rolled out of bed only a minute prior. His body is one long line of perfect lean muscle and Derek can’t see his face but he’s already captivated, eyes tracking the boy’s every move. He’s barely made the decision to go up there and introduce himself when the boy gets hug-tackled by a gorgeous redhead in a yellow dress, effectively stopping Derek in his tracks.
Derek looks at the boy one last time before turning his head and walking away.
Two weeks later, he sees the redhead in one of his tutes and he absolutely does not roll his eyes and glares at her or look around hopefully for her boyfriend.
Of course he doesn’t, Derek's mature isn’t he?
This also means he doesn’t immediately perk up when he sees the boy walk into the room a few minutes later, a smile lighting up his face when he sees the redhead. He’s got a nice smile, a nice face and a nice everything. He’s got really light amber eyes underneath black glasses and they’re so bright, they’re almost gold, set in a smooth, pale face with moles everywhere. His nose is upturned slightly and his lips are so soft-looking and full, Derek can’t help but imagine what they’d feel like against his skin, wrapped around his—
He blinks sharply and tries to keep his face expressionless when he sees the two of them heading over to him.
“I’m Lydia,” the redhead introduces herself confidently and she doesn’t wait for his reply before gesturing to the boy next to her, who waves at Derek, “This is Stiles. He’s deaf, so he’s going to need some extra help. You good with that?”
He can tell she’s used to getting her way, not that he was going to refuse to put in extra time helping a student, much less a student who’s probably one of the most attractive people he’s seen in his life.
But, deaf. That’s new.
Stiles. It’s an unusual name, but it seems fitting for him, to have a name as unique as he probably is.
“Uh, I don’t… I, sure,” he finally settles on, flushing under the raised eyebrow the red—Lydia—gives him and instead turns to face Stiles, “I don’t know how to sign though.”
There’s a beat before he adds hastily,
“I’m Derek, by the way.”
“I’ll do it for you,” Lydia said primly, then turned to Stiles who began signing something quickly. She shook her head and Stiles bit his lip, his eyes darting to Derek for a brief moment before he signed something else in a flurry of movement.
Lydia rolled her eyes, taking him by the arm and pulling him to a table in the back corner of the room, but not before she leant into Derek's space and whispered,
“He says that it’s okay if you can’t sign because you’re pretty enough to get away with it.”
Derek feels his face heat up, the tips of his ears going pink and he doesn’t remember anything after that except for the warm feeling he got when he noticed that Stiles’ eyes never left him throughout the session.
Derek's never regretted his inability to say no to beautiful people more in his life than in the moment two days later when Stiles came up to him and slid a piece of paper over to Derek.
Lydia’s not here today, can I stay afterwards?
Derek nodded at him and Stiles fucking beamed.
It’s been a long time since anyone smiled like that at Derek without any ulterior motive and he couldn’t help but feel like a weight had been removed from his shoulders. Smiling softly to himself, Derek turned to the rest of the freshmen and began his discussion.
‘Didn’t really peg you for a Romantic Literature kind of guy,’ the note says when the tute session is over and Derek walks up to Stiles’ table.
Derek feels his mouth twitch and Stiles looks absolutely delighted.
He is so, so fucked, it isn’t even funny.
Pulling the sheet closer to him, he writes:
I have hidden depths.
Stiles smirks when his eyes flit over the words and quickly scribbles:
I feel like I should be making a plumbing your depths joke here
Derek chokes, causing Stiles to grin and add:
Or maybe not. In other news, I can actually lip read pretty well, you don’t have to keep writing things down.
Derek shrugs and reaches for the page, feeling unnerved at the mere thought of having to stare at Stiles’ face while the boy’s amber gaze would be focused on his lips.
It’s fine. I’m not a big talker anyway.
He’s startled by the short bark of laughter Stiles lets out. It’s a beautiful sound, loud and unrestrained, like he hadn’t meant to. It’s adorable and endears Derek to him so much that when he turns to look at Stiles and finds the younger boy’s eyes wide in panic, hand over his mouth, he can’t help reaching over to remove Stiles’ hand from his face and blurting out,
“No, no, it’s really cute.”
He freezes, Stiles’ warm and slender fingers entwined in his.
What the fuck just came out of his mouth.
Despite Derek's inner freak-out, Stiles smiles shyly up at him, his thick-rimmed glasses magnifying his already large eyes and fuck. Has Derek mentioned how completely gone he is?
They stay like that for a moment until Derek realizes that they’re still, essentially, holding hands and lets go as if he’d been burnt.
Picking up the printed pages he’d organized since that first tute session from his messenger bag, he straightened up to see a brief flash of—was that disappointment?—leave Stiles’ face.
“I, uh, prepared these for you last night,” he says quietly, then mentally kicks himself for being a creeper, “I mean, I figured it’s not really any extra work for me, the notes are already on my computer and I just have to compile them together, so yeah. I thought it’d be easier on you and Lydia because she might miss something and you probably have other classes as well to focus on…”
He trailed off, feeling a little like an idiot. Just because Stiles said he could read lips didn’t mean he could understand the pointless chatter coming out of Derek's mouth.
Derek hadn’t rambled this much since… No, he wasn’t going to think about it.
That way lay madness.
When he looked back up, Stiles had written something in his pretty penmanship (seriously, was everything about this guy pretty?) and was looking expectantly at him. His gaze dropped to the sheet of paper sitting innocently on the table.
I really appreciate it. Thanks. Do you wanna go grab some coffee? Austen and her badassery always makes me crave caffeine. :)
He’d drawn an actual fucking smiley on the bloody page. Derek didn’t know anyone who still did that outside of the fourth grade.
Derek sighed. He knew he should probably say no, nip this thing, whatever it was, in the bud before it escalated further. He didn’t want to give Stiles the wrong (right?) impression that he was interested. At least not if Lydia was in the picture.
But Derek had always been pretty awful at choosing to do the right thing.
He stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder, grinning at Stiles.
Pfft, no such thing.
They ended up staying at Starbucks for over two hours and grabbing dinner, because Stiles loved Mexican and Derek knew the perfect little taqueria only a few blocks away from the freshman dorms.
He was surprised that Stiles had never heard of it (wow, pun definitely not intended, Derek where are your manners) but then again, it was a little hole-in-the-wall kind of shop and it’s patrons were primarily composed of old Mexican ladies who loved to give Derek advice on how to be happy and liked to call him ‘mi’jo’whilst pinching his cheeks.
“Blink-and-you’ll-miss-it,” Laura had told him when they had first joined the college a little more than five years ago.
Stiles loved it there; loved the homey feel, the colorful walls and the paintings created by Maria; the daughter of the owners and the mascot of the place, loved their awesome tacos and their even better guacamole and loved the old Mexican grandmothers with their lack of boundaries. He even loved old man Juan, who sang in the corner with his guitar horrifically out of tune and his sombrero perched at a jaunty angle on his balding head. Watching him sigh happily as they left the restaurant made Derek happier than he’d been in a long time.
They walked in companionable silence until Stiles stopped in front of Hemlock Hall, the main freshman dorm. Stiles signed with his hands before stopping and letting out a soft laugh, looking down at his hands than back up at Derek apologetically. It was getting darker now, but it was still bright enough for Derek to try to speak to him and let Stiles read his lips.
Before he could utter a word, however, Stiles leant into him and hugged him, shocking him into silence. He flinched reflexively and Stiles stepped away, his eyes wide and his hands raised placatingly.
“No, it’s fine,” Derek said, reaching out to take Stiles by the forearm, squeezing it reassuringly, “I was just surprised.”
Stiles nodded and smiled again, his teeth flashing brightly and he signed something again, before looking frustrated with himself.
“You’re welcome,” Derek told him, feeling a wave of relief when Stiles’ face brightened. That would’ve been awkward if Stiles hadn’t been trying to say thank you.
“I had a really good time, so yeah. I’m glad you came with me,” he said, feeling his face grow hot. Derek wasn’t usually like this. He wasn’t confident. Sure, he had the looks and he could flirt shamelessly when he got hit on, but he always got shy around the people he genuinely liked, not that there was too many of those.
But Stiles didn’t let him dwell on that. He gripped Derek's arm, grinned cheekily and pointed at himself before lifting two fingers. It took a while for Derek to get it but when he did, he couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across his face.
“I’ll see you on Tuesday,” he told Stiles, who nodded, “Goodnight.”
Stiles bounded up the stairs and headed for the door, but not without one last look over his shoulder and a wave to Derek, who turned on his heel and headed to his apartment, smiling to himself.
As he was stepping into the elevator, his phone rang and he frowned, moving back out so he could take the call. Checking the caller ID, he sighed when he recognized the number and picked up.
“Hi Erica, so lovely to hear from you today,” Erica teased, dropping her voice into a low bass that Derek assumed was meant to be a mockery of his before continuing on in her normal pitch, “How are you, Der?”
“I’m…” Derek trailed off as he contemplated telling her what had happened, and then deciding against it, reverting to his usual response, “I’m okay, how are you and Boyd?”
“Boyd is a jerk,” she sniffed disdainfully and Derek resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing there was no point when she couldn’t see him, “I swear, he’s so inconsiderate.”
This was the trend of Boyd and Erica’s relationship, really. It was never a serious argument; and whilst they’d been having ‘breaks’ since forever, they’d never actually broken up. It was really impressive, considering the fact that they’d been together since high school, when Boyd punched a guy in the face for making fun of Erica when she had a seizure.
“Do you want to stay over?” he offered. Whenever they were taking a break, one of them always inevitably crashed his place, seeing as the couple shared an apartment over on the far side of the campus.
“I’m already here,” she told him and this time, he did roll his eyes, knowing he should’ve expected that, “Do you have anything to eat?”
“No,” he said and he heard her sigh at him, could even see her shaking her blonde head at him in his mind’s eye, “I already ate. Did you want something? I’m at the elevator now, but I can go back out if you need anything.”
“Of course, you idiot,” Derek said, “Why wouldn’t I?”
Everyone assumed Derek was cold-hearted and uncaring, that’s what Kate had hissed at him when they broke up, but the truth was that Derek was just distrustful. Once you managed to earn his trust, however, he was more loyal and generous than anyone. When he had been in a relationship with Kate, there had always been a part of him that knew, instinctively, that something wasn’t right with her. But that part had been smothered by the fact that someone cooler, someone prettier, someone older, older than his sister, even, wanted to be around him, wanted to kiss him and touch him and make him feel like he wasn’t just a gangly nerd with rabbit teeth and a too-wide smile.
Four months later, his instincts had been proven right and he found her cheating on him with one of the mechanics from the local garage. He had broken up with her, gotten drunk, cried over her to his sister and thought it was all over and done with. Until Kate had, in a burst of anger, set fire to his family home while most of his family were trapped in the basement. Derek and Laura were the only survivors, and they moved soon after Derek graduated, unable to deal with the pitying stares of the townsfolk. Laura had transferred to the same college Derek was currently attending in her junior year when she was killed in a car accident. It was only a few months after the fire and it only served to make Derek feel worse, as she had been on the way to see him during his freshman orientation.
That was four years ago and Derek had been alone ever since.
The only real friends he had were Boyd and Erica, and they had both been Laura’s friends first.
When Laura died, they were the only ones to stick around, cared for him like he was a part of their family.
“Well, you are,” Erica had said simply, as if it wasn’t a big deal at all, “We’re doing this because we like you. It’s not some crazy burden to us or a guilt thing or something she made us do or whatever disaster you’ve created in your head. You’re our baby brother too, just as much as you were hers.”
Derek could only shake his head, wondering how he had these people he didn’t deserve.
“—erek, are you even listening to me?” Erica demanded sharply, pulling him out of his thoughts.
“Yes? You were complaining about Boyd?” he tried and Erica scoffed, “I’m sorry, I was just thinking.”
“Oh, wow you can do that now?” she said sarcastically and continued before Derek could even think of a witty retort, “I said, I just ordered pizza but I need you to get me some painkillers and tampons.”
“Oh, suck it up,” she snapped at him without any real venom in her voice, “Just say you have a hot girlfriend and you’re being nice in the hopes of getting laid once shark week is over.”
“And that would make me feel so much better if you weren’t practically my sister,” Derek said dryly, heading out into the night and towards the closest convenience store, “Are you on your period now? Is that why you and Boyd had a fight?”
There was a pause as Erica debated whether or not she should feel offended or own up.
“Probably,” she admitted after a while and he tried to smother a laugh. They were so predictable, it was crazy. They had a fight every time during Erica's period; Derek didn't even know what else was left in the world for them to argue about, he was sure they’d covered it all.
“I’ll be back in a few, okay? Save me some pizza when it gets there, will you?”
“You wish, jellyfish,” Erica told him, “Love you Der.”
“Yeah, you too,” he said honestly, before taking a deep breath and ducking into the store, heading straight to the feminine hygiene aisle, even remembering to deposit his dignity at the door so he could collect it on the way out.
When he got home, Erica was lounging on the couch, a half-empty pizza box lying next to her, watching How I Met Your Mother reruns.
Flopping down next to her, he handed her the bag in exchange for a slice of pizza and didn’t resist when she pulled him into her to smack a kiss on his cheek, leaving behind a bright red lip print.
“Beer?” she asked, looking over at him. He shook his head and heaved himself up and off the couch.
“I’ve got things to do tonight. I’ll grab you a bottle then I’m heading to my room.”
She pouted at him but then settled back in with a sigh.
“I’m a bit jealous of your dedication to schoolwork,” she said, shaking her blonde curls around as he walked around the couch, “I’m a fucking senior and I’m doing nothing. You’re making me feel lazy.”
Yeah, that’s right.
He was doing schoolwork.
“I’m sorry,” he told her, not even trying to sound a little sorry, while walking towards the kitchen, “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He hands her the bottle of beer and ruffles her hair affectionately, ignoring the affronted noise he gets in return. Squeezing her shoulder, he shot her a quick smile before heading over to his room and locking the door behind him, walking into his en suite bathroom, shucking clothes on the way. Taking what was possibly one of the quickest showers in existence, he stepped out and toweled off, pulling on sweatpants regardless of his matted hair still dripping down onto his chest. He ignored the mild annoyance in favor of dropping onto his bed with an exhausted sigh and pulling his laptop towards him, opening it up.
If he went through with this, Stiles would either think he was unbelievable sweet or a completely crazy creep (alliteration fuck yeah, college was good for something after all, even if it was only for internal monologues). Sighing at the direction his life had taken, he got comfortable, leaning against the pillows and opened YouTube, mentally prepping himself for a long night.
He sees Stiles drunkenly stumbling along the sidewalk on Saturday night, presumably on the way to his dorm from a party or something. Derek's just come out from the library, ready to head home and have a Shameless marathon with Erica and he’s torn whether or not he should go over to help Stiles out. His breath catches in his throat as Stiles tilts and swerves into the road and he reaches out, snagging the end of his plaid jacket. Suddenly furious at the thought of Lydia leaving him to fend for himself drunk in traffic, Derek isn’t prepared for the sudden burn of pepper spray in his eyes.
“Mother of fuck,” Derek swears loudly, letting Stiles go, his hands flying up to his eyes, “Ouch, holy god, why?”
Stiles makes a distressed noise when he recognizes who he is and rubs a trembling hand down Derek's face.
“I’m okay,” Derek manages, trying to blink the pain away and ends up having tears sliding down his face. Good job, you try to help some guy out and you end up crying like a child. That’s attractive.
Stiles drags him over to a public bathroom and nudges him towards the sink. Derek can barely see him gesture wildly, still a bit off balance but he points towards the sink and then to Derek's face, miming splashing water on it.
“I get it,” Derek tries to roll his eyes which makes Stiles cross his arms defiantly, the show of authority slightly undermined by the way he sways unsteadily. Derek reaches out for him but Stiles bats his hands away, leaning onto the wall and signing something that Derek recognizes as ‘I’m fine’.
Oh yeah, that’s right.
Derek knows ASL now, bitches. A little bit of it, at least.
Once he flushes his eyes out with a couple of gallons of water, his vision is clear enough to see Stiles leaning against the wall, his eyes beginning to droop. Desperate as he is to show Stiles what he’s been spending his weekend doing, like a completely pathetic lovestruck teen, he knows there is only a small chance Stiles will even remember what happened tonight.
Tugging Stiles’ arm gently, he grins at the small yawn and the confused sound the younger boy lets out.
“Let’s get you home.”
Derek's taken aback by the vehement way Stiles shakes his head and then can’t hold in a small chuckle when Stiles’ nose wrinkles and he winces. Derek grimaces in sympathy, remembering his own freshman year parties, although he used to get drunk to forget Laura and his family and Kate, not to go around getting laid.
Stiles’ hands flutter in front of him, making aborted motions to sign and then he grabs his phone out of his pocket and types slowly and deliberately for a moment, tongue poking out of his mouth as he concentrates on what he’s typing before handing the phone to Derek.
sCot nd ALison are hvig all he sEX
“You’ve been sexiled?” Derek asks after squinting at the screen for the moment. Stiles nods and then gestures to himself sadly, not noticing the way Derek's hand clench at his side to keep him from blurting out something stupid like ‘I haven’t had sex in a long time either’ or ‘I can fix that’.
“Where’s Lydia?” he says instead.
Stiles face crumples up and Derek feels awful. He can’t tell what expression is on Stiles’ face because he looks really confused and Derek wouldn’t know why he would be confused except Stiles is drunk and he’s probably upset about the fact Lydia isn’t there.
Maybe they broke up and Stiles wonders what went wrong or something?
He takes a deep breath before possibly making the worst decision of his life.
“C’mon,” he says, patting Stiles on the shoulder and Stiles looks up at him at first before realizing he hasn’t really got a better option. He transfers his weight back evenly onto his feet and then nearly topples over, Derek catching him with the bulk of his body.
Struggling to balance Stiles as he’s trudging along next to him, Derek fumbles for his phone and dials Erica.
“Erica?” he starts tentatively and Erica sighs.
“Please don’t tell me you’re kicking me out of the apartment.”
Derek bites his lip and thinks for a moment. He normally wouldn’t kick her out of the apartment but then again, nothing about this situation was normal. He looked down on the innocent, unguarded expression on Stiles’ face and makes his decision. Erica would eat him alive if he left them alone together.
“Just for tonight?”
Erica is silent for a moment before she grins and her voice goes predatory,
“Are you sexiling me?”
Derek's face goes hot.
“NO,” he protests too quickly and Stiles lets out a little whimper when Derek stops walking abruptly. His eyes widen because he knows Erica heard that and he can see her eyes narrowing, the cogs turning in her head.
“Sure you aren’t,” she says, her voice saccharine sweet, “I expect all the details tomorrow or I will stalk him.”
“No, Erica,” he whines and she laughs brightly.
“I hate you,” he tells her, which only makes her laugh harder.
“You love me and you don’t know how to stop,” she tells him before hanging up because she knows he doesn’t have a comeback.
Shouldering Stiles’ weight more fully, he walks into one of the secure parking areas in the campus and unlocks his car, resisting the urge to smile when Stiles’ eyes widen at the shiny black Camaro and he starts waving his arms around manically, turning back to stare at Derek with a crazed look on his face.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got a very attractive car,” he said, opening the passenger door and helping Stiles slide in, watching for a moment as Stiles begins touching the dashboard reverently.
He shuts the door, barely managing to catch Stiles’ peeved expression as he gestures to the car and then to Derek in general. Derek doesn’t get it but his face heats up anyway, as he feels Stiles’ eyes travel slowly up Derek's body through the tinted glass and he shakes away the feeling as he walks over to the driver side and heads towards his apartment.
The ride home is silent, save for the little high-pitched snores Stiles starts to let out when he falls asleep only a couple of minutes into the drive. Pulling into his parking spot, Derek pauses for a moment wondering if he can get away with carrying a freaking drunk undergrad into his apartment.
“Hey, Stiles, we’re here,” Derek says, touching Stiles on the shoulder, careful not to startle him again.
He repeats himself louder this time when nothing happens and he just sits there staring at Stiles until he remembers his passenger is deaf. Scoffing at himself because he is an actual idiot, Derek gets out of the car and walks over to the passenger side to shake Stiles awake.
Stiles makes a sleepy noise and shifts around slightly, a wrinkle appears between his eyebrows as he frowns. It’s adorable and Derek wonders when he stopped being tough and started thinking things like adorable. Shaking Stiles again, he’s gratified by the way Stiles’ eyes pop open to see Derek standing over him and the blush that starts on Stiles’ cheeks but continue on down his neck. Derek averts his eyes from where the open vee of Stiles’ shirt allows him to see a generous sprinkling of chest hair as he wonders just how far that flush goes.
Tilting his head lightly, he puts his hand out for Stiles to grab and he hefts him up, careful not to jostle him unnecessarily. They manage to make it to the elevator and into Derek's room where Stiles heads straight for the couch.
“I’ve got a spare room,” Derek said, leading him into the other direction and helping Stiles into bed, “Do you need anything else?”
Stiles shakes his head and Derek decides to get the hell out of dodge when Stiles starts struggling to remove his clothes, tangling his arms in his shirt and letting out a small hurt noise when the shirt refuses to budge.
Rather than be seen as a creeper (even though he actually is), Derek makes sure Stiles can undo the damage on his own before stepping out of the room and shutting the door quietly behind him.
This is not good at all.
He checks on Stiles only once, when he gets up at six to go for his morning jog. Leaving a glass of water and two aspirin beside Stiles’ sleeping figure, thankfully cocooned in blankets. Derek's not sure he could handle Stiles half-naked in his spare room this early in the morning, noticing the pile of clothes on the floor. He contemplates leaving a note before figuring he’d be back before Stiles gets up anyway.
He’s back two hours later, sweaty and feeling a lot more settled, jogging up the stairs with a paper bag of bagels in his hand. Opening the door, he jolts in surprise when he sees Stiles stumbling round the kitchen, still fucking shirtless, dressed only in boxers, checking drawers presumably for food. He approaches slowly, not wanting to freak Stiles out and waves the bag of food in Stiles’ periphery.
Stiles’ grin melts into something hotter as his gaze flicks from Derek's face to his sweaty biceps and to his abs clearly visible through his soaked-through wifebeater. Stifling a little noise, Stiles’ reaches out for the bag and makes gimme motions with his hands once his eyes manage to meet Derek's.
“I got you bagels,” Derek said tentatively, holding it out to Stiles who took it with a smile on his face. He gestured at the cupboards and sighed before grabbing a piece of paper and writing something down.
I was going to make you breakfast. As a way to say thank you for taking care of me last night.
Derek shook his head and then smiled when Stiles nudged the sheet towards him. He raised his hands and signed,
No need. You’re welcome.
Stiles’ jaw dropped and his eyes lit up.
He signed something else excitedly and Derek laughed.
“I’m not that good,” Derek told him, “I only started learning on Thursday.”
Stiles shrugged easily and grinned back up at Derek. He looked down at the sheet of paper and toyed with the pen for a moment before biting his lip and scribbling down one word.
Derek thought for a few seconds and then reached out as if to touch Stiles’ shoulder before deciding against it, letting his arm fall back to his side. Stiles was, essentially, his student.
He needed to talk to Erica.
“Eat your breakfast while I take a shower and we can talk then.”
Stiles looked at Derek for a brief moment and then he nodded, opening the bag up, a soft smile still curled up at the corners of his mouth. He sniffed at the pastries before letting out little noise, pleasantly surprised, Derek was guessing, if the way his eyes lit up was anything to go by. He watched as Stiles shoved his hand into the bag and shoveled a large bite into his mouth. Stiles glanced up completely by chance and froze when he noticed Derek still standing in the doorway.
Derek had an amused smile on his face as Stiles looked a little like a deer caught in headlights, one of his cheeks puffed out where the pastry was, like a squirrel storing its nuts.
That was Derek's cue to go.
Two animal similes in one sentence. Really, brain, you’re going there?
Nodding at Stiles like he hadn’t just been caught creepy staring; he headed back to his room and dialed Erica, who picked up on the first ring.
“He’s a freshman,” Derek whined, running a hand down his face, “He’s a freshman in one of my tutes and I’m so fucking attracted to him I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“Oh Derek,” Erica sighed, “It’s like you don’t even know what your dick is for.”
“Sorry, hun,” she said, not sounding particularly sorry, “How do you survive?”
“I don’t know,” he said despairingly, “Help me.”
“Did you sleep with him?” Erica’s voice sounded so deliciously scandalized and Derek scowled at his reflection as he threw his shirt off.
“No, but I want to Erica! It’s awful. He’s deaf and I think he’s perfect. I could get expelled for even thinking about it.”
“You are so completely gone, it’s adorable!” Erica squealed.
“That isn’t helping,” he complained and Erica giggled at him before hanging up with,
“Oh, and by the way? Boyd thinks it’s hilarious too.”
“I hate the both of you,” Derek groused into the empty air and stepped into the shower.
When he walked back out, still grumbling to himself, he was disappointed to find a Stiles-less kitchen, although he was a bit gratified to find a note stuck to his refrigerator underneath a small black wolf magnet.
Sorry I had to go, Scott texted. Thank you again though, dinner sometime?
Derek blinked at the page.
Stiles had left his phone number and asked him out.
But, was it like, meant romantically? Or friendshiply?
Shut the fuck up, that was a word.
Didn’t Stiles only break things off with Lydia the night before?
This was probably why his only relationship had been with Kate. He had no idea what the fuck he was doing.
Derek sighed and grabbed his phone.
Derek: Tuesday after tute?
Stiles: I’ll see you there (:
Seriously. This kid and his damn smileys.
Derek's good mood carried on over the rest of the weekend and up until Tuesday when he saw Lydia and Stiles walk into the library, arm-in-arm.
Looks like they got back together.
Stiles bounced up to Derek happily but his smile wilted when he saw Derek's scowl.
Even without Stiles’ voice, Derek could see the exclamation point from Stiles’ body language and it made him struggle to hide a small smile.
I am. So glad you noticed.
Stiles looked at his hands then at Derek and grabbed a piece of paper from his pocket.
Didn’t think you’d know the sign for snark.
“I could’ve,” Derek protested hotly, but quietly enough that the freshmen still trickling into the room weren’t startled.
Ooh, you’re so hot when you’re all snarky, babe.
Even hotter when you’re angry.
Derek wasn’t sure if he should blush or roll his eyes and settled on doing both instead, narrowing his eyes when he noticed Stiles’ lips quirk. Dropping the pen, Stiles raised his hands.
We still on for dinner?
Derek's confused face must’ve betrayed him because Stiles signed again.
Dinner? Tonight? Remember?
“I just… Lydia?” Derek tried.
Stiles looked over his shoulder at her, where she was fooling around on her phone. Turning back to Derek, he shrugged.
“Are you not seeing her tonight?”
Rolling his eyes, Stiles jotted something down onto the page and jogged back to his seat. Derek's eyes followed him and tried to see what he was signing to Lydia but his hands were moving far too quickly. Huffing in annoyance, he settled back into his seat and then jolted suddenly, remembering he had a bunch of students to ramble on to about literature.
Glancing down at the sheet of paper, Derek felt his stomach twist in nervous excitement.
Lydia has plans with Jackson, I think. Does it matter? I’ll see you afterwards.
Derek shook his head to clear his thoughts.
If Stiles was okay with it, then it couldn’t hurt, could it? It was just dinner, after all.
Tute was unusually frustrating today, the reminder that he was having dinner with someone in a relationship itching under his skin. It made him antsy, and more impatient than usual and he nearly cried with relief when it was over. He wasn’t that kind of guy, he knew from firsthand experience how much getting cheated on sucked and he couldn’t go to dinner with Stiles in good conscience because he could tell that Stiles was attracted to him, maybe even liked him. And he couldn’t be the reason Stiles and Lydia broke up.
Being in his head sucked sometimes.
He felt a tap on his shoulder and he looked up from where he had buried his face in his hands to Stiles’ worried face.
You sure you’re fine?
Derek nodded, then got up to gather his things. His phone buzzed just as he slung his bag over his shoulder.
Stiles: Whatever’s going on in your head, you’re probably over thinking it.
He managed a weak smile and Stiles beamed back at him when he mumbled,
They ordered a pizza and decided to take it back to Derek's apartment where they argued over watching the latest Batman movie or the new Iron Man, which Derek hadn’t seen yet. Stiles was aghast and insisted they watched both.
“Tomorrow’s a Wednesday,” Derek shook his head, trying to be the responsible one and Stiles rolled his eyes.
I don’t have classes on Wednesday. Do you?
Beaten out, Derek shook his head and Stiles smiled beatifically at him, as if he was bestowing the gift of movies to Derek.
“Yeah, yeah, shut up,” Derek grumbled and Stiles let out a bark of laughter.
They watched Iron Man first and Derek couldn’t help but feel Stiles’ eyes on him, lingering longer and longer each time as the movie went on. When it finished, he got up, stretched and handed his laptop to Stiles.
“Can you get the movie up? I’ll grab us some drinks, what do you want?”
Derek crossed his arms over his chest.
Fine, Mr. Grumpy, be like that. Can you grab me a Dr Pepper?
“Heathen,” Derek mumbled, walking to the kitchen and grabbing a beer for himself and a can from Stiles. He walked back and handed Stiles his drink, settling back down onto the couch as Stiles nodded his thanks, still fiddling around with the laptop. If they were somehow closer than they had been before Derek got up, well, it was definitely an accident.
Stiles stared at him for a long moment before looking up at Derek's flatscreen to confirm that the menu screen had popped up. Looking at Derek to see if he was all set to watch it, Stiles pressed the play button when Derek nodded and then placed the laptop carefully on the coffee table in front of them. He twiddled his thumbs for a moment and stilled when Derek glanced over at him.
Letting his gaze linger for a moment, Derek turned back to the movie but he could still see Stiles fidgeting out of the corner of his eye. He sighed and leant over so he could press the spacebar on his laptop, pausing the movie. He then turned to Stiles and raised an eyebrow.
What is it?
The only answer Stiles gave him was to lean in and press his lips to Derek's. It happened so quickly that Derek was already kissing him back without any thought of Lydia and how awful this made him as a person. His eyes slid shut and his hands threaded through the thick strands of Stiles’ hair without his express permission but he didn’t really give a shit in light of how fucking good it felt to finally kiss Stiles. Stiles’ mouth was a soft but firm pressure against his lips and when Derek swiped his tongue across Stiles’ bottom lip, he let out a little whine, jolting Derek's brain back online. And, shit, he was kissing Stiles. His eyes flew open and—
Derek jerked backwards away from Stiles, his hand over his mouth and his eyes wide in horror. Stiles blinked slowly and let out a confused noise.
“I… I can’t,” Derek shook his head, “Not with you.”
Stiles flinched and Derek winced as he replayed the words he just said. Yeah, not exactly good word choice on his part and he hastened to correct himself.
“No, it’s not that, it’s just—“ Derek let out a frustrated growl. Stiles was still all tensed up but he had lost the wounded look in his eyes so Derek continued on.
“I just, I don’t do cheating. I’m sorry.”
Stiles’ eyes widened and he jumped up off the couch, his hands flying out in front of him as he started signing things frantically.
Derek blinked, struggling to understand what Stiles seemed to be desperately trying to tell him, but it made no sense whatsoever.
“Stiles wait, slow down. I don’t…” he trailed off as Stiles grabbed his bag off the floor and literally fucking ran away. Derek sat there, stunned, his shock punctuated by the slam of the door and the indistinct murmur of a depressed Christian Bale on the screen.
Hey, at least there was a positive outcome to this disaster. Now Derek could honestly say he knew how Batman felt.
When Derek called Erica to tell her all about it, she couldn’t stop laughing at him and he even heard Boyd chuckling in the background.
Derek fucking hated his friends.
Stiles didn’t show up for tute on Tuesday and he gritted his teeth when he noticed Lydia staring at him with a calculating expression.
She wasn’t planning his murder, was she? Derek couldn’t really tell, but he was about 98% positive she was glaring at him.
Ignoring her, he went on with the session, feeling an eerie sense of déjà vu when he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched for the rest of the hour.
On Tuesday, when neither Lydia nor Stiles showed, Derek began to worry.
He pulled out his phone and shot Stiles a text.
Derek: You okay?
He waited for a few moments, tapping his fingers on the tabletop nervously. Stiles never took more than a few minutes to reply to his texts and Derek didn’t think Stiles seemed like the type to ignore someone.
Maybe he was mad at Derek?
Stupid question, of course he was. He probably thought he could get away with sleeping with Derek because Derek had been leading him on for the last week or so.
He looked up at all the chattering freshmen, some of their voices dropping into whispers when they noticed him looking up at them. A couple of really unsubtle of them even decided to elbow the fuck out of the person sitting next to them.
Yeah, no, this wasn’t going to work.
“I’m guessing most of you don’t have any classes tomorrow,” he said. He wasn’t surprised when the majority nodded and had to bite back a grin when a blonde boy with an Australian accent whooped. The college for some reason decided it was a good idea to give a large amount of the freshman class Fridays off.
“How about you kids start your weekend early,” he said and didn’t bother holding back his smile when they started cheering and packing up their things. Once they had cleared the room, he still found it so fucking irritating that they always took such a short time to pack up and leave when it took them nearly ten minutes to all arrive, he glanced down at his phone.
Derek bit his lip. What was that supposed to mean? His hands hovered over the blank screen for a few moments before his thumbs flicked out another message.
Derek: What’s up? Why haven't you been coming to tute?
Stiles: I didn’t want it to be weird.
Derek: Does Lydia know?
There was a lull in the conversation and Derek, slumped back into his chair. Lydia didn’t seem too furious with him, did she? He assumed she would’ve gone up to him and given him a piece of her mind if she was angry, so what was going on?
Derek had never been this confused in his life, and there was that one time when he was six and he had crept down the stairs to see his mother placing gifts under the Christmas tree. He went up to his mother and when she told him Santa couldn’t make it this year, he asked if Santa had a cold and if he could visit him to help him feel better and didn’t understand why she had laughed at him. He liked Santa, okay, shut the fuck up. A year later, he caught Laura eating the cookies and milk he had prepared and when he confronted her, she just scoffed at him, telling him he was an idiot for believing Santa was even real. He had cried for hours.
But anyway, going back to the situation in hand, Derek glanced down at his phone when it buzzed.
Stiles: Lydia says I need to talk to you. In person.
Derek: I don’t think that’s a good idea, to be honest.
Sighing, Derek rubbed a hand over his face. He really didn’t have a choice. It was better if he got over it as quickly as possible, cut off all the loose ends and move on.
Derek: I’ll be there in a bit.
Stiles: Lydia says she’ll be here so she can give you a piece of her mind.
Stiles: Her words, not mine. I told her to back off but
Stiles left it there as if he didn’t know how to end the sentence and Derek winced, knowing it was probably useless to try and argue with either Stiles or Lydia. He could kind of tell Lydia was a no-bullshit, I-will-end-you-and-keep-my-nails-perfect-at-the-same-time-if-you-don’t-let-me-do-what-I-want kind of person. He decided not to reply and just walked to Hemlock Hall, only a couple hundred meters away. He was just walking in when he realized he didn’t even know which fucking room belonged to Stiles. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and was surprised by a notification that he had a text waiting for him.
Stiles: Room 309
Taking the stairs, Derek spared a moment to remember his own freshman year and his roommate, a pothead who had disliked Derek so much that he spent most of his time in his girlfriend’s dorm. Derek hadn’t been surprised. He had been an angry person back then and he still was, occasionally, and having his whole family die around him, because of him, should’ve been reason enough to excuse his behaviour.
He paused outside of Stiles’ room, his hand poised to knock.
What the hell was he doing?
He really did mess up this time. Granted, at least he hadn’t slept with Stiles and Stiles hadn’t trapped his family and burned them alive but Stiles was a freshman. And while that wasn’t necessarily so bad, he was part of Derek's tute. He’d read about people getting expelled for what he did, even if it had only been a brief kiss.
He clenched his fists. If Lydia were to report him, he’d take what he would get. It was an accident, but it wasn’t as if Derek hadn’t noticed the way Stiles’ gaze would linger on him for a tad too long, or how he would compulsively lick his lips while staring at Derek's mouth. Derek knew that it would only be a matter of time before Stiles made a move but he hadn’t anticipated Stiles kissing him. That was a surprise. He expected more flailing and a pie chart or two. Maybe a pros and cons list?
Steeling himself for the worst, Derek knocked on the door, which swung open a few seconds later. Peering inside, Derek was surprised to see Stiles hastily wipe his eyes, as if he’d been crying and Lydia standing there glaring at him, one hand on the door and the other poised on her hip.
Stiles’ hands flutter around in an aborted attempt to sign for a while and he makes a noise when Lydia doesn’t even turn around to look at him.
Lydia leans closer to Derek and says in a furious whisper,
"That boy is one of the most incredible human beings I know. You had absolutely no right to do what you did."
Derek nods, and swallows once.
"I know," he said, his throat dry, "I'm sorry."
Stiles grabs Lydia's arm and spins her around to face him. He looks angry and he starts signing things that Derek can pick bits and pieces of. Things like 'stop' and 'let me deal with it' and Derek just can't.
"I'm sorry," he says, signing along as best as he could, "I'm sorry. I fucked up big time and I can't apologize enough for that."
Lydia doesn’t look surprised when Derek starts signing and Derek realizes that Stiles had been telling Lydia everything from the start. It’s a warm feeling that starts in his belly until he remembers that he was the reason he was here in the first place. If he hadn’t been thinking with his dick (again), he wouldn’t have been the reason Stiles cheated on Lydia. No one deserved to be cheated on.
Stiles stops and looks at Derek for a long moment, his wide eyes boring into his as if trying to see into his head and understand him. Derek mentally berates himself as every second pass because how did he ever think he was worthy of a boy like Stiles? He was never going to be good enough. Stiles deserved so much more than whatever Derek could give him, what gave him the right to try and take him away from Lydia, who was probably way better for him that Derek could ever be.
Stiles signs something, slowly, making sure Derek gets what he's trying to say.
Why did you learn how to sign?
"I..." Derek trails off, unsure how to phrase the words he's about to say and he looks over to Lydia, who only raises an eyebrow at him. Derek is still frozen outside their room and he's infinitely glad that no one is out traipsing around the halls, everyone already out pre-gaming in pubs or whatever frat house is hosting.
"I saw you a few days into the year," Derek says, his voice barely loud enough to be heard and his eyes trained at the hem of Stiles' plaid shirt, "And, I don't know. You fucking intrigued me and no one has. Not in a really long time. I wanted to go up and talk to you but then I saw Lydia."
Derek shook his head at himself.
"I was kind of really excited when you walked into my tute that Tuesday and I thought I'd be okay with you just being there but after dinner and everything... I got stuck on you. And I just, I wanted to get to know you and I didn't want you to keep being inconvenienced by having to write things down when you're so obviously used to signing things. So I learnt. I liked you, a lot. Fuck it, I still do. I don't know how to stop. And I..."
Derek trailed off, helplessly shrugging, unable to meet Stiles' earnest brown gaze.
"Why did you lead him on?"
The question comes from Lydia and he has to physically bite back a scowl.
"I didn't mean to. I didn't really expect him to like me back and I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry that he kissed me, but I'm not sorry that I kissed him back."
It was probably the most he's ever said to anyone outside of Erica and Boyd since Laura died. And it was kind of gratifying. Scary as hell, but actually still kind of nice.
He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he missed the confused looks Stiles and Lydia shot each other. Lydia opened her mouth to ask him a question when a blonde boy with a smug expression on his face pushed past him, pulling aviators off his nose. He nodded to Stiles, completely ignored Derek and wrapped his arms around Lydia, kissing her soundly.
Derek's jaw dropped.
"Jackson, off, seriously," Lydia snapped, pushing him away, though there was no missing the hint of a pleased smile lurking around her mouth. Stiles made a gagging noise and Jackson went over there to shove him, rolling his eyes when Stiles shoved back half-heartedly.
"Who's this? The hot guy you've been lusti—"
Jackson's eyebrow jerked in surprise when Stiles lunged forward and clapped a hand over his mouth, shaking his head wildly.
"Okay, you testicle," Jackson sighed, slapping Stiles' hand away from his mouth and turning back to Lydia, "C'mon Lydia, we gotta go. I've got the table reserved for six."
Lydia looked at Stiles, who nodded and signed,
I got this.
"You'll text me?" she asked and he nodded. Satisfied, Lydia flipped her hair over her shoulder and with one final glare at Derek, walked out of the room, Jackson's fingers securely entwined in hers.
Did you want something to drink?
Derek shakes his head, his mind trying to process what just happened. He walks in almost on pilot, not even noticing when Stiles shuts the door behind him. When he turns around, Stiles is looking at him nervously.
"Who was that?"
Stiles turns to look at the door when Derek gestures to it and he bites his lip before quickly signing,
Jackson, Lydia's boyfriend.
"Her boyfriend?" Derek asked.
But I thought you were her boyfriend.
"But I thought you were her boyfriend!" he says, his voice a bit hysterical because hello, Stiles could be single.
Stiles bursts into surprised laughter and god, Derek has missed that sound. Jesus, if Erica could hear him she would be cackling at how pathetic he was being.
Stiles shakes his head and grabs a laptop from the dinner table. Settling down on the couch, Stiles pats the seat next to him and begins typing.
I used to be in love with Lydia waaaay back, since the third grade. When I was 13, my mom was driving Scott, that's my best friend, and I, to her birthday party. We weren't part of the popular crowd, that was always Jackson and Lydia's thing, but Lydia always used to invite everyone to her parties. We were driving along the main road when some guy in an eighteen-wheeler swerves into us. Scott barely made it, he was unconscious for a couple of days and my mom didn't make it. I broke a few ribs, got a concussion and lost my hearing. After Danny went to Boston, it's just been the five of us, Jackson, Lydia, Scott, Allison and me. I'm not against dating, actually the opposite, but there isn't many people who'd bother with a deaf, spastic, gay kid, so there. The tragic life of Stiles Stilinski, ladies and gentlemen. Or man. Y'know, seeing as there's only one of you.
Derek let out the breath he didn't even know he was holding, he shut the laptop gently, taking it from Stiles' hands and placing it behind him.
"When I was 16 I met this... Person," Derek starts, letting out a little cough and hating the way his throat always threatened to close up whenever he thought about Kate, "She was a lot older than me and she was beautiful and smart and funny. She used to tell me things like how no one else got me like she did and how no one would care for me like she did. I didn't realize it back then but she never actually used to word love when she was talking to me, even though I said it to her all the time. I caught her cheating on me a few months later and we broke up and I thought that was it, y'know? But she came back; using the key I never took back from her and burnt my family alive. I've got no one left and it's all my fault."
Stiles shakes his head violently, taking Derek's hands in his. Slowly, and very deliberately, he signs,
It's not your fault.
But Derek isn't finished.
"I didn't think I'd ever find anyone ever again. And then there was you and your sense of humor and your laugh and the way you would just fucking light up at the absolute smallest thing you noticed. And watching you be happy made me happy. And I wanted that. I wanted you. But then I thought you were with Lydia and then you kissed me and I felt really guilty."
When he looked back up, Stiles was looking at him fondly, their hands still clasped together and Derek can't help but press into that smile and feel it grow wider against his mouth. Derek kept it chaste, short and to the point, before pulling away, much to Stiles' dismay, if his displeased whine was anything to go by.
"We still can't do this," Derek tells him, reaching out to smooth out the frown lines between Stiles' eyebrows when he pouts, "I'm practically your teacher."
Stiles rolls his eyes and reaches out for Derek again, letting out a frustrated sound when Derek stops him with a hand to his chest.
"I'm serious, Stiles," he said sternly, though his tone was a bit undermined by the way his free hand curled around the nape of Stiles' neck, fingers curling in the soft curls there, "Not while you're in my tute."
I'll change tutes. I can do that after a semester, right?
Derek nods and his heart pounds just thinking about it. It would be a while but just because they couldn't be sexual with each other didn't mean they couldn't hang out or spend time together. Stiles beams at him and Derek can't resist pulling him in one more time. Stiles seems to agree with this plan, signing,
Just a few more minutes.
They end up making out for hours, until they're both yawning into each other's mouths, lips red and swollen, hard in their jeans.
When Stiles meets Erica and Boyd and tells them the entire story, they laugh at him for hours and they get that He's Just Not That Into You movie and a teen magazine boasting Get Him to Leave Her for You for his birthday, which Derek thinks is actually a horrible thing to be advertising. Stiles laughs and laughs however, and hands Derek a book entitled ASL for Dummies which Derek refuses to use because he isn't a dummy.
He reads it sometimes though, when he wants Stiles to wake up to a compliment he signs, telling him that he is beautiful, that he is loved, and that he is perfect the way he is.
Stiles always scoffs and rolls his eyes, but he can never hide the blush that spreads across his cheekbones and the warm look in his eyes when he leans over to wrap his arms around Derek.
Stiles walks up behind Derek and slides his arms around Derek's waist, resting on his broad back, his lips pressed firmly onto Derek's shoulder.
Derek turns around and leans down to kiss Stiles because he can now, now that the semester is over and Christmas is around the corner.
I'll be done packing in a minute.
Stiles smiles fondly at him and signs back,
Take your time. I'm sure dad'll be cramming in his last couple of burgers as we're driving down.
Stiles' dad was the sheriff of a small town in Northern California and when Stiles had first told Derek about it, Stiles had gone on an impressive rant about his inability to stick to his diet and Lydia had devised some magic mathematical equation that calculated just how likely it was that he was going to pull out his gun, cleaning it at the dinner table to intimidate Derek.
Derek wasn’t sure if it was supposed to scare him or not. He figured yes, so he nodded along to Stiles’ explanations and reassurances that he would be fine.
Erica and Boyd had decided to go to Paris, where Erica had told Derek that Boyd was going to propose.
"How do you know?" Derek asked, refusing to believe her.
"Men," Erica rolled her eyes, linking her arm through Lydia's, who had been nodding emphatically.
Derek really didn't know whose idea it was to introduce those two but whoever it was deserved a punch in the face.
So, Derek was headed over to the Stilinski's for the holidays and he was pretty excited, not that he would ever tell Stiles, who was currently hunting around Derek's apartment to try and find out what Derek had gotten him. The first time Derek caught him sniffing around in the living room, Stiles hadn't even looked vaguely apologetic, just shrugging unabashedly and saying it was only fair because Derek had seen what Stiles was getting him (a yearly subscription to Men's Illustrated, to help keep him fit, Stiles had told him with a leer, and a $200 gift card for a car servicing shop, because the only thing Derek loved more than Stiles was his Camaro), even though it had been Stiles' own fault for leaving his iPad open where Derek could see it.
Derek had told Stiles he hasn't even gotten him a gift, except Stiles didn't believe him. He was right not to, because he had and it was hidden somewhere around the apartment. Stiles just never bothered to check the gym, because, according to him, he was allergic to hard work, he told Derek so only a few days ago. Derek had snorted and then showed him exactly how well the pay-off was for that hard work by lifting him up and fucking him against the wall.
Speaking of, Stiles had found his way back to Derek and was currently mouthing at his neck, his fingers toying with the waistband of Derek’s sweats. Derek rolled his eyes and batted Stiles' hands away, ignoring the wounded sound he let out.
Turning around to face Stiles, Derek narrowed his eyes at the kicked puppy expression on Stiles' face and told him,
"I haven't finished packing yet."
Just a handjob.
"No," Derek said sternly and Stiles sighed in defeat, flipping down onto Derek's bed. He looked around for a moment before grinning slyly and rubbing at his crotch, eyes trained on Derek, who hadn't noticed.
Undoing his button and sliding the zipper down, Stiles bit back a smile when Derek's head jerks up from where he had been sorting socks together, his eyes zeroing on Stiles' hand pushing down on the bulge in his boxers. Smirking, Stiles slides his long fingers past the waistband and Derek swallows, his throat going dry as he sees the outline of Stiles' hand working at the head before twisting around his cock and sliding up and down slowly.
He looks down at his socks for a brief moment and then back at Stiles, whose head was thrown back, eyes shut and mouth parted as he began stroking in earnest, letting out little whimpering noises that redirected Derek's blood from circulating around his body straight down to his dick.
Yeah, really, no contest there.
Stiles lifts his head up to grin at Derek when he feels the mattress dip under Derek's weight as he climbs over Stiles, straddling him while tugging his boxers down and tucking then under his balls. Derek pulls Stiles' hands off his own dick and Stiles watches with hooded eyes as Derek licks his palm and curls his hand around him. When Derek starts jacking him off, the sound of skin on skin is absolutely filthy and Stiles really thinks Derek should be all kinds of naked right now. He struggled to sit up, resting his weight on his elbows even as his hips begin to arch, fucking up into the indulgent grip of Derek's hand.
Stiles gives up halfway, instead sitting in a half-crunch, the muscles in his stomach straining to hold the position as Stiles fumbles with the waist of Derek's sweats.
Derek lets go of Stiles' dick enough to pull his sweats down enough to free his cock, giving it a few firm strokes and ignoring the noise Stiles lets out at the loss. Derek shuts his eyes, losing himself in the pleasure spreading across him in waves, relaxing him so that when Stiles thrusts up and flips them around, Derek goes without much resistance.
Grinning, Stiles readjusts them so he's seated more comfortably in between Derek's legs, Derek's thighs bracketing his hips and pressing their cocks together. Pulling the bottle of lube from his pocket and refusing to acknowledge Derek's raised eyebrow and amused smile, Stiles squeezed a liberal amount onto his fingers and wrapped a slick hand around the both of them, moaning in tandem with Derek.
He goes slow at first, knowing that's how Derek likes it, occasionally running a thumb over the head of Derek's cock, pressing into the slit, which was drooling precome. Looking up to check on Derek, Stiles found him with his head thrown back, hips canting up with Stiles' every stroke and his eyes shut tightly.
Stiles tweaked a nipple and Derek jerked, his eyes flying open and he met Stiles' gaze. Stiles couldn't sign, not unless he wanted to let go of their dicks and that was so not on the to-do list right now, but he tilted his head at Derek, hoping Derek could understand him well enough to extrapolate what he was saying.
Derek didn't disappoint.
"I'm fine," he murmured, lifting up in perfect sit-up and not even mocking Stiles for scowling at him, "I just... Thinking about how perfect you are, and how lucky I am to have you."
Stiles blinked furiously, his eyes burning. He wasn't going to cry during sex. That was stupid.
Instead, he slid his free hand into the hair at the back of Derek's head, tugging him close for a messy kiss. They were close, their hips thrusting up into the warm circle of Stiles' hand in sync as Stiles' sped up. It only took the addition of Derek's huge palm closing over Stiles’; tightening his grip on their dicks before Stiles was gasping into Derek's mouth and coming. Derek followed soon after, the warm slide of Stiles' come pushing Derek over the edge and they say there for a moment, panting, even as their mouths were still brushing together, breathing the same air.
Stiles pulled away first, stretching lazily as he got up off the bed, loose-limbed and happy. Derek lay there for a moment longer, the lines on his face smoother, making him look younger.
Sometimes, Derek wondered how he got there. How Stiles had changed him from the angry, guilt-ridden empty husk of a person he had been for the last six years into someone who smiled a lot and told bad jokes in merely the span of a few months. Whatever it was, Derek knew that this was it for him. Wherever Stiles went, that's where Derek wanted to be, stupid cliché or no. He looked up at the soft smile of the boy who taught him how to live again and signed,
I love you.