Work Header

The Offer That Changed It All

Work Text:

The Offer That Changed It All

"Can I buy you a drink, handsome?"

Derek froze in mid-reach of his beer, his head snapping around to take in the guy who'd spoken up from the other side of Stiles. Tall, lean, and broad-shouldered, with perfectly coiffed blond hair, brilliant cobalt-blue eyes, and expensively stylish clothes that would make both Jackson and Lydia weep, the guy looked as if he could be on billboards across the nation. Or at the very least, highlighted on every television set in America. And he was radiating enough lust to coat the entire club in it, and all of it was directed straight at Stiles.

Jesus. Even Derek was having a hard time looking away from the guy's happy, open, millionaire's smile, and he wasn't even the one the guy was hitting on.

"Uh, a drink? You want to buy me a drink? Really?"

The guy chuckled and leaned in, one palm landing on the broad expanse of Stiles's back. "Of course I do," he said, his smile spreading in a ridiculous grin. "Why do you sound so surprised? You own a mirror, don't you?"

"What? Yeah, I own a mirror. Just not sure we're seeing the same thing in it is all."

The guy lifted his eyebrows. "Well, maybe you should let me buy you a new mirror instead of a drink then. Yours obviously can't be working right."

A startled chuckle flew out of Stiles's mouth and Derek's heart seized in his chest at the easy sound of it. Light, airy, happy. He liked what this guy was saying to him, and the idea that he might actually like the guy saying it made Derek want to punch something.

Or better yet, rip the guy's throat out with his teeth. "Uh, Stiles, I think one of the pool tables in the corner is open now, if you still want to play."

Two surprised gazes swung to him and the annoyed look in one of them briefly took Derek aback. Until the other's hand reached out and squeezed his upper thigh, that is, and then he just felt smug.

"I'm sorry," Stiles said, shifting on the bar stool and fitting the stranger beside him with a look. "I appreciate the drink offer, dude, really, and the compliment you gave as well, but I'm here with someone and I count myself pretty damn lucky to be with him so…yeah, not interested but thanks."

The guy looked surprised, as if he wasn't used to being shot down, but then he smiled and lifted a shoulder. "Well, can't say I didn't try, right?" He grinned then, and held up his hands in supplication. "If you're ever not with someone, Stiles, you come find me and I'll buy you that drink and mirror, alright? Because someone who looks like you do should always know how attractive he is to others. There shouldn't ever be any doubt in it."

Yeah, the hell with a simple punch. Derek wanted to use his teeth and claws on this guy. Make him wet himself for insinuating Derek wasn't appreciating Stiles the way he should, even if it was possibly true since they weren't actually together and Derek hadn't told Stiles of his interest in him.

"Thanks, again, but it's really not gonna happen, man. I'm happy where I'm at, and with who."

The guy sighed, shaking his head. "Too bad. The sex between us would've been hot as hell. You were made for sucking cock, Stiles."

Derek shot to his feet at that, but before he could grab the guy and make him regret his words, Stiles stood in front of him, both hands sliding around his waist, holding on tight.

"Derek, calm down, man. The dude's done and gone."

That didn't mean Derek couldn't go after him. "Let me go. The guy's a prick. He needs to apologize."

"Yeah, I don't think he'd really be into that." Stiles shook his head and moved back a step, but he didn't remove his hands from Derek's waist, or avert his eyes from his face. "So, what gives there, big guy? You were totally about to wolf out and defend my honor. That's sort of sweet, in a badass-gonna-kill-someone-with-my-claws-and-teeth kind of way."

Shit. He had been on the verge of wolfing out, hadn't he? In public, no less, with dozens of eyes all around them. "I need to go," he said, feeling more out of control than he'd been in years. "It's dangerous for me to be here right now."

"Why's that? Because the guy's still here? Or because I'm here and you're afraid you're going to get jealous over me again?"

Derek frowned and forced himself to meet Stiles's amused gaze. "I wasn't jealous."

"Really? What would you call it then? Because I’m pretty sure that wouldn't have happened if it had been anyone else but me the guy hit on."

He…couldn't deny that, dammit. "Look, I know we came together, but I also know it doesn't mean anything because we aren't together together. And if you're here to find someone then you really need to let me go so I don't get in your way again."

"And what if I wanted you to get in my way?" Stiles asked, shifting his feet forward a step until his body once again brushed in close to Derek's, the woodsy aroma of his cologne mingling with the rising scent of his nervous want. "What if I wanted us to be together together? Would you have a problem with that?"

Would he? It was no secret to any of the pack that he found himself drawn to Stiles in recent weeks. Even if Stiles couldn't smell his arousal or hear the rising beats of his heart, the rest of the wolves could, and they'd never spared a moment's reprieve in mocking him for it.

How the hell had Stiles not noticed his interest though? The kid was the most observant of the bunch, always putting the pieces together before the rest of them even figured out there was a puzzle to solve.

Unless…that's what tonight had been about? Derek sighed. "You planned this, didn't you? Not the guy, but the two of us being here alone together. That's why the rest of the pack didn't show, isn't it? You told them not to."

Stiles shrugged, his eyes dancing with mischief as he challenged, "So what if I did? One of us had to do something, didn't we? We're getting sort of pathetic with all the UST, and the pack isn't happy with either one of us because of it."

UST. He'd heard that term before. From Lydia. And Allison. He knew what it stood for, and what it mean for him and Stiles because of it.

"What do you propose we do about all this unresolved sexual tension, Stiles? Since you're such an expert on it now and all."

Stiles's fingers hooked into two of his belt loops and yanked, hard. "Well, if we were at the loft, I'd probably have these ridiculously tight jeans off of you by now, and the shirt, too, of course. In fact, you'd just be naked and in bed with me."

Derek closed his eyes and drew in a deep, shuttering breath. "And your clothes?" he asked, his voice dropping to an almost breathless whisper. "Where would they be in this little scenario of yours?"

"In a puddle. On the floor. By your bed."

Derek nodded, once, and opened his eyes. "I'll pay the tab and meet you in the parking lot in two minutes."

"Two?" Stiles scoffed. "That's two too long, Sourwolf. Better make it one instead. Less than, even."

Before Derek could respond, Stiles let go of his jeans and gripped both sides of his face, slotting their mouths together in a quick, I-can't-wait-to-get-you-home kiss. Then he let go and disappeared through the crowd and out the main door. Fifty-four seconds later, Derek slid into the passenger seat of the jeep and gripped Stiles by the back of the head, kissing him quick and hard.

"Drive fast," he murmured softly, "but get us there in one piece."

Derek let go of Stiles's neck and sat back in his seat. Stiles looked dazed, his breaths coming in quick, uneven pants.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered finally, starting the car. "Not dying right now would be really good." He swallowed, looked over at Derek again, and exhaled loudly as he shifted the jeep into reverse. "Not dying would be really, really good actually."

Derek turned his head, glancing out the side mirror as he smirked, knowing Stiles had absolutely no idea what was in store for him once they reached the loft.

No idea at all.