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We're caught in stone, you know we might not make it

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“This is the worst,” Stiles decides, standing at the airport, bags in hand as he’s about to go through the security check point.

His father slips the backpack off his shoulder and hands it over to him. Stiles doesn’t even have enough hands to scratch himself right now. “No, this is college, kid,” the Sheriff says. “And you’re going to do great. Make some new memories and learn about life.”

“But in North Carolina?” he whines, pulling a face. “Maybe I should have parked my education somewhere closer.”

His father frowns. “No way in hell, Stiles. You earned this. And Duke is only five hours away.”

“Yeah by plane,” he emphasises. “Which isn’t cheap by the way. And driving takes ten years.”

“About thirty eight hours,” the Sheriff corrects. “And you don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’m the adult here, I’m meant to be the one wanting you to stay.”

Stiles lets his bags drop. “You’ve convinced me.”

His father scowls and picks his bags up again, shoving them into Stiles’ hands. “You’re going. There’s no way you’re abandoning Scott. The two of you are practically superglued at the hip. Even Allison and Lydia are attending the same college as you.”

Stiles huffs out a breath. “Fine. But I will be calling constantly to make sure you’re eating well. And. I. Will. Bother. You.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” his dad retorts, pulling Stiles into a bulky hug that’s complicated by the bags between them. “Now go on. You’re gonna miss your flight.”

“And wouldn’t that be a shame.”

“Stiles,” his father warns.

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, pulling away. “I guess I’ll leave since the Sheriff is kicking me out of town anyway.”

His father rolls his eyes. “You be safe now. Check in at least once every two weeks.”

“Every second day,” Stiles counters.

“Every week.”

Stiles hugs his dad again. “Deal.”

Then he tries not to think about the 2,000 miles plus that are rapidly growing between himself, his father and home.

Maybe this new experience won’t completely suck. But Stiles isn’t holding out that much hope. There’s a reason why he stayed dreadfully unpopular throughout high school, where even playing for the Lacrosse team didn’t help improve his dating prospects.

Stiles is just a nerd. And not even one of those hipster-ish vaguely cool and mysterious nerds either.

Stiles is a loser nerd.

And college probably isn’t going to change that.

 

 

“So, are we going to this party Friday night or what?”

Stiles is nodding his head slowly, looking over at this broad-shouldered drink of water at the other end of the quad. The only one turning heads while he walks through the main path leading to the dorms with a serious faced black guy.

He’s got some pretty impressive looking scruff, the artful kind of stubble that seems like it takes time and effort. He’s wearing sunglasses too and even though Stiles can’t see much of his face, he still thinks there’s something familiar there.

“Stiles- earth to Stiles?”

He does this thing then, while Stiles is watching, rolls his left shoulder a little as if he’s adjusting the books in his arms and suddenly Stiles recognises him from the gesture.

“Oh my god,” he cries, dumping his books, bag and coffee into one big mess on the ground and rushing over to them at once.

“Incoming,” Stiles shouts, leaping into the air once he’s within pouncing distance.

The guy turns, dropping the textbooks in hand and catches Stiles automatically just like he used to when they were kids. Stiles trained him well. He used to love jumping on Derek’s back, mostly because he was bigger then. And Derek would carry him around for ages until Stiles fell off. If he had any doubts this isn’t Derek Hale, he doesn’t now.

He enfolds his arms around the back of Derek’s neck, holding on tight and he realises he’s much beefier than before. Stiles has to stretch his legs wide just to wrap around Derek’s ribcage. God, how can someone have this much muscle on a human body?

“Stiles?” Derek wonders faintly, his face pressed into Stiles’ shirt where Stiles’ heart is pounding with excitement under his ribs.

“The one and only.”

Abruptly he realises that Derek’s sunglasses are digging into his sternum and it’s hard to carry a conversation with the top of Derek’s head. Even if his hair is really nice. Is he some kind of GQ model or what? Stiles glances over at where Scott is still standing across the quad, watching them open mouthed and looking at Stiles like he’s some kind of freak.

Everyone else is staring at them too, he notices. This bro hug has probably gone on too long now that he thinks about it. He may or may not have run to Derek like they were a slow mo couple on a romantic beach somewhere before leaping into his arms. But it’s not like Derek tried to let go first. It takes two to bro hug.

Stiles unwinds himself from around Derek and slides back down onto the grass. “Whoa,” he says, sizing him up properly. “We’re the same height now! But damn, not the same size. What did you do? Eat all the greens?”

Stiles puts his hands on Derek’s stomach and feels the muscles there. “Whaa,” he crows, amazed as he lifts Derek’s shirt up to inspect him better. “Is that a six pack? Who are you?”

He puts his hand to the warm skin there, gently pats the ridges of ab muscle and groans at the sight of it. “This is so unfair. You went off and got abs and meanwhile I’m out of breath from running over here.”

The guy next to Derek snorts with laughter and Derek pointedly starts trying to drag his shirt back down as if to remind Stiles he’s attempting to undress him in public. He’s just so excited though. Stiles hasn’t seen him in years.

It’s really been forever.

“C’mon don’t be like that. You grew up well,” Derek offers with an easy laugh, reaching out and grasping at Stiles’ shoulder firmly, taking liberties with his touches as well.

Considering the frequency in which he falls over at random and constantly runs his mouth, Stiles knows when people are making fun of him, but thankfully that’s not the case here. “I work out sometimes,” he says modestly, patting at a stray bicep. “And when you look this good-“

Derek’s friend actually sniggers this time. “Who is this?”

Stiles glances over at Derek and his smile now is blinding. Even his teeth are whiter than Stiles remembers. What kind of miracle grow has Derek been drinking? “Stiles Stilinski,” Derek says. “We grew up together until my parents moved us out of Beacon Hills.”

“And how is everyone?” Stiles wonders eagerly. “The family? Wait, hold up- are you like at this College?”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “Where else should I be?”

Stiles nudges at his chest with a laugh. “No, I mean like do you go here?”

“Oh yeah. I’m a sophmore.”

Did the stars align for this or what? Not only did Stiles just get his best buddy back, but now they’re attending the same college? He could not have asked for a better start to the semester. And he'd already had pretty low expectations.

“Holy shit, dude. I'm a freshman. What are you studying?”

“I’m here on a partial basketball scholarship,” Derek explains. “And I’m a biology major. What are you studying?”

“Criminology,” Stiles says with a private smile.

Derek’s friend turns and glances at something to their left. “Uh your boyfriend wants you.”

Stiles, who is too busy grinning at Derek, almost doesn’t hear him. Then it sinks in. “What?” he says quickly, face colouring. “I’m not gay.”

The guy shrugs, as if it doesn’t matter either way and jerks his chin over towards Scott. “Oh that’s my-“ he stops and looks at Derek when he realises he’s about to say best friend. Is it weird to cheat on your first best friend with another best friend? “That’s Scott.”

Stiles waves him over.

“Scott!” he calls breathlessly once he’s in hearing range, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “This is Derek and uh-“

“Boyd,” Derek’s friend supplies.

Scott nods like it’s nothing special before his brain catches up with Stiles’ half crazed grin.

“Wait- as in the Derek? Derek Hale from childhood?”

Stiles nods quickly, hardly daring to believe it himself. Derek stares at Scott as if he’s trying to place him in his memory but he’s going to have a hard time doing that. He and Scott have never even met before.

“Scott moved to Beacon Hills just after you left,” Stiles clarifies. “He’s my best buddy- though nobody could ever replace you.”

He lets go of Scott in order to reach forward and pat Derek’s cheek. “Jesus, dude. Who even grows stubble like this?”

Derek stands there patiently and lets himself be petted. Even if his eyebrows do climb unusually high. “Are you just gonna comment on my looks the whole time?”

“Well I haven’t looked at you for like eleven years or so, give me some time to get reacquainted.”

Derek’s family moved out of Beacon Hills when Stiles was six but they still kept in touch after. Stiles saw him two other summers after that before his mom got sick, and everything kind of fell apart. Scott smirks at Stiles’ ogling but keeps any comments to himself. “You guys going to the keg party next weekend?”

Derek glances at Boyd. “Hadn’t heard about it yet.”

“It’s at Sigma Alpha,” Stiles says, still palming Derek’s cheek. “Open invite. Come on, Derek I gotta share a beer with you.”

Derek laughs and takes Stiles’ wrist to push his hand away. “I bet you’re a total lightweight,” he says reaching out and squeezing Stiles’ forearm. “Jesus, you’re skinny.”

Stiles swats his hand away with a grin. “I am lean and sinewy, dude. Like a cheetah.”

Derek snickers just as Scott snorts and erupts into hoarse laughter. Stiles glares at both of them. “Oh, I see what’s happening here,” he mutters. “Never the twain shall meet and all that. Well fine,” he says, throwing an arm around Boyd. “Looks like this guy is my new best friend.”

Boyd doesn’t even crack a grin. He’s a puzzle alright. “Let me hold back the joy you’ve filled me with.”

Derek knocks into his side with a smirk when Stiles withdraws his arm. “You’re full of something that’s for sure. But that party? We’ll be there.”

“Good,” Stiles says, poking Derek in the chest. “Cause right now I’m challenging you to a drink off. And I can guarantee man, you’ll be under the table first.”

Derek grins. “Yeah, because that’s where you’ll be puking your guts up and I’m gonna need to film the evidence.”

That’s a gauntlet dropped if Stiles ever saw one.

“Oh, you are gonna regret that, buddy.”

Derek steps closer for a second, pushing a hand at the back of Stiles’ jeans. For a second Stiles flushes, and has the insane thought that Derek’s actually trying to palm at his ass until there’s a tug and Derek steps away with Stiles’ iPhone.

Oh. He must’ve realised it was there when Stiles jumped him. “Here’s my number,” he says after he’s finished typing it in. “What are you doing now? You got a class?”

Stiles glances over at his abandoned books, bag and spilled coffee on the floor where he left it. “We were gonna hit the library. Study for a bit.”

A second later there’s a girl with long dark hair throwing her arm around Boyd’s neck with a war cry and jumping into his arms. He grunts a little in surprise but catches at her legs so she doesn’t hit the ground and lifts her into a bridal carry.

“There you are!” she says, long hair spilling out over Boyd’s forearm. “I’ve been looking for you two.”

She sweeps hair off her face, adjusting the backwards cap on her head and one glance at Scott tells Stiles he’s already smitten. Jesus, he’s been doing that with practically every girl ever since they got here. Scott is just looking to get his heart broken.

She glances over at Stiles and Scott but her eyes linger on Scott the longest. “Oh, hey guys.”

“This is Kira,” Boyd says, by way of introduction. “Kira, this is Stiles and Scott.”

“So, this is where you guys were all along. You said you’d watch my match. I totally kicked that preppy kid’s ass, it was beautiful.”

“Kira’s a varsity fencing player,” Derek explains.

“I like swords,” she says. “I wanted to bring my katana but I figured they wouldn’t let me keep it on campus.”

“That is so cool,” Scott says, amazed. “Hey, are you coming to the Sigma Alpha party on Friday?”

He is not being subtle but Kira smiles at him kind of warmly anyway. It's probably the best reaction from a girl that Scott's got so far since he arrived here. “Yeah, are you?”

He nods and he’s practically beaming when Kira promises to look out for him. “Where’s Erica?” she wonders. “I need to find more people to brag to.”

“She’s in class. We were going to meet her and get food after.”

“Lead on,” Kira suggests enthusiastically without dropping to the ground. She must not be very heavy though because Boyd barely looks like he’s making an effort to hold her. And he's cracking a little bit of a smile, so Stiles has to bet they're good friends.

“Oh shit, my wallet,” Derek says, patting at his shorts. “I left it in my dorm. I’ll be right back.”

“You’re living on campus?” Stiles says, delighted. “This I gotta see.”

Scott’s already turned to start walking off with Boyd and Kira, Stiles completely forgotten, which is the norm whenever Scott’s around pretty girls. He’s going to be distracted for the rest of the week, Stiles can tell.

“Isn’t that your stuff over there?” Derek asks, gesturing at the abandoned pile still sitting across the quad.

Stiles jogs over to it and scoops up his books and bag and dumps the spilled Starbucks coffee in the trash. “I can’t believe you just dropped that,” Derek says, having clearly followed him over. “Those things are like eight bucks.”

Stiles sighs forlornly. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

Derek hesitates for a second and an odd look complicates his expression. “Speaking of, whatever happened to keeping in touch? Our mom’s said they would let us visit every couple of summers but after a few years your mom didn’t contact us about arranging meet ups anymore. I think the last time I saw you were eight.”

Stiles is in the middle of shoving text books into his bag and freezes. He’s always wondered what happened with that, but he’d just figured Derek wasn’t interested in being friends anymore. With all the things going on at the Stilinski household, Stiles didn’t have much time to be worrying about playdates with Derek. When his mom died three years later and the dust finally cleared, he’d figured they’d just naturally grown apart.

Stiles laughs uncomfortably. “My mom got sick. Frontotemporal dementia. She uh- died.”

Derek inhales sharply. “Fuck, I had no idea. I’m sorry, Stiles.”

“Yeah it was pretty fucking awful, actually,” he admits, standing up and slinging the bag casually over his shoulder. “Dad still barely talks about her. It hurts too much.”

Derek looks stricken. “Fuck, my parents just assumed we’d drifted apart after too long. Not that- do you mind if I tell them?”

“Go ahead,” Stiles says, waving him away. “She died when I was like eleven. I’m pretty sure Dad was gonna invite your parents to the funeral but Mom kept the address book with all their friend’s contact details and he couldn’t find it anywhere. He was- a bit of a mess.”

“Shit,” Derek murmurs, already furiously texting his parents. “I can’t believe we didn’t know. I tried to find you on Facebook a few times, but you couldn’t even spell your real name back then so I had no hope of figuring it out.”

Stiles laughs at that. A six year old would have struggled with that for sure. Most adults still do. By eight though, Stiles had started to get the hang of it.

He doesn’t admit that he found Derek Hale on Facebook pretty early on and that he stalks his page sometimes, getting whatever tidbits of information he can because Derek’s profile is set to private. Stiles could never quite work up the courage to send a friend request though, because he’d always been afraid of finding out why Derek stopped talking to him.

Now he knows.

“Yeah, I only go by Stiles now,” he admits. “Not willingly admitting my real name upon pain of death actually.”

“That’s too bad,” Derek says, leading him out of the quad and over towards his dorm building. “Mischief suited you.”

“It still does,” he says, winking and feeling a rush of satisfaction when Derek laughs.

“So how is Laura and Cora?” Stiles asks.

“They’re great. My parents had two more kids after we moved. I’ve got two younger brothers as well.”

This is too bizarre. Stiles can’t believe how things have changed. “Oh my God what are their names? Eric and Berrick?”

Derek rolls his eyes. “They stopped with the rhyming thing, thank God. Lucas is twelve and Charlie is ten.”

How did Stiles not see this when he stalked Derek on Facebook? Eleven years is a long time to not talk to each other. Stiles wonders if he should have been a little more hesitant to approach him. Derek plays college basketball now, he could be a total jock asshole, like Jackson always is about Lacrosse.

He could have turned into a massive jerk over time. Something about the way he talks, and how he holds himself together tells Stiles that he’s totally sure of himself. Popularity can do that to people. But it can also change them for the worse.

Derek could have multiple girlfriends now. He could be a Trump supporter. There’s so much that Stiles doesn’t know about him anymore. But then Derek gives him one of his familiar smiles, those bunny teeth still almost exactly the same as he remembers and Stiles stops overthinking it.

“Holy shit, you have brothers now,” he says. “So much has changed.”

Derek nudges Stiles’ shoulder kindly. “Not everything.”

That makes Stiles more hopeful than it should.

 



Having Derek back in his life is one of the most unexpected and amazing things about being at college. He feels like he won a lottery ticket that he didn’t even think to buy.

He calls his dad after the first day that he and Derek ran into each other and tells him all about what happened. The Sheriff is apologetic about losing touch with the Hale family for so long but Stiles is just so damn happy to have found Derek again that he tells his dad not to worry about it.

He still ran into him again anyway. Like it was meant to happen. It certainly feels like it was.

They slip back into old patterns straight away. Stiles can still pass a million hours with Derek and never get bored, even if they’re not the same kids they used to be. They still have a lot to talk about, and the common understanding that always existed between them is still there.

Derek just gets him, Stiles doesn’t have to worry if he’s talking too frequently or moving around too much with their together. He doesn’t feel like a loser with Derek. And if he embarrasses himself, Derek just laughs along with him. He doesn’t judge.

And even more amazing than that, Derek is a year apart age-wise from Stiles which means he's actually much closer to the legal age for buying alcohol. Stiles is only nineteen but Derek's just turned twenty and he has plenty of friends who can legally buy Stiles and Scott beer. Which they do. Stiles never thought he’d be the type of person who knows a guy, but now he totally does. When it comes to underage drinking at least.

And Derek’s dorm room has a pretty sweet set up for video games as well. Stiles ends up crashing at his place a few times during that first week. His dorm is in another residence hall on East Campus and the buildings aren’t that far apart. Stiles sleeps at Derek’s mostly because they end up sitting up and talking half the night and he doesn’t have the energy to walk back to his own room.

Derek complains that Stiles’ bed is more comfortable than his is but Stiles has a very strong rebuttal about the fluffiness of Derek’s pillows.

He and Scott seem to get along alright too, even if it’s only early stages. Stiles thinks they just don’t get each other yet, but he’s positive they’ll soon find common ground. Derek even gives Scott some details on what kind of person Kira is, and seems genuinely positive that she might be interested in him.

The three of them hang out together a few times during the first week, though Stiles mostly ends up alone with Derek. He learns Derek’s class schedule almost as quickly as he learns his own.

After so long he wants to get to know grown up Derek as much as possible.

It turns out he’s even more awesome than Stiles remembers. He’s funny, snarky, super smart and seems to have a billion friends on campus already even more than Stiles might have expected of a second year. Stiles meets more people through Derek than he did at freshman orientation.

There’s Boyd, who might be a little quiet but also turns out has a wicked sense of humour and the kind of loyalty to his friends that Stiles is well-known for, and respects. Then there’s Erica, who’s sexy and scary and surprisingly easy to get along with considering how much she loves to flirt and Boyd is her easy-going boyfriend. Kira is a bit of a sword nut it turns out, but she’s sweet and enthusiastic and incredibly fun to hang around with.

Stiles is less sold on Isaac, but that’s mostly because Isaac is a walking skyscraper who’s unimpressed by Stiles’ everything and doesn’t seem too interested in creating lasting bonds of friendship. Yeah, Stiles isn’t too fussed about that guy. As far as he’s concerned, he and Jackson should hang out on a regular basis as far away from him as possible. Form their own dicktopia.

But Derek’s not a pushover either, he doesn’t let Isaac bad mouth Stiles, and he hardly talks shit about anyone. Stiles saw him break up a fight between two big guys over a spot in the library one afternoon when they’re meeting up to eat dinner after getting in some light study. Derek chews the both of them out afterward and manages to diffuse the situation completely while Stiles watches impressed from the Poli Sci shelves, wondering if he should help by throwing his copy of Textbook Criminology at them.

Apparently Derek’s the type of dude now to be relied on to cover someone’s back if they ever end up in a fight. And yet somehow, he’s still exactly the same kind of Derek that Stiles remembers too. Even if he looks a hell of a lot more different.

Stiles figures out Derek’s pretty much all muscle everywhere when he runs into him jogging back from practice one afternoon in their second week of classes, wearing his loose basketball shorts with a shirt folded up over his bare shoulder. Stiles can see a well-defined chest and exposed nipples and promptly forgets how to walk straight.

“What the hell man?” he groans, reaching out to smack at his sweat slicked chest. How does he even still smell good right now? Stiles could swear he’s started salivating. “How many girlfriends do you have exactly?”

Derek snorts and smushes a sweaty hand onto Stiles’ face. “I’m a gentleman, I don’t kiss and tell.”

“You suckkkkk,” Stiles groans, shoving his hand away and watching the happy trail disappear into Derek’s basketball shorts. “You gotta show me your workout regime.”

Derek laughs loudly at that. “I saw you eat two bags of Cheetos in one sitting yesterday, Stiles. You’d probably die instantly.”

Stiles tries to shove at him, but Derek’s a brick man or a human mountain because he doesn’t even shift a little. “I am a hungry boy, okay, need me those Cheetos, Derek. Don’t shame me.”

Derek smiles but stops teasing. “I can train you a bit, if you want?” he offers. “I’ll take it easy on you, I promise.”

“Yes,” Stiles agrees. “Take it so easy on me it’s like I’m not even exercising.”

He smirks. “Well I didn’t say that.”

Derek promises to come back to Stiles’ room to watch Parks and Rec with Scott after he’s showered, and Stiles walks back to his dorm with the biggest grin on his face.

 



When Friday’s party finally comes around, Stiles is only more confident that this is going to continue to be a beautiful friendship.

Especially when he walks straight through the front door of the frat house, and Scott instantly ditches him upon sighting Kira on the other side of the room. Feeling nervous and somehow underdressed, Stiles enters the fray on his own, but Jackson immediately cuts across his path.

“Who invited you, Stilinski?” he demands rudely, cup sloshing a little over the rim. He looks tipsy already.

Stiles makes a face at him.

“People. Who invited you?”

Jackson rolls his eyes. “Please. Like anyone knows you here, freshman.”

Stiles tries not to roll his eyes, because Jackson is in the exact same boat. What a hypocrite. Derek and Boyd spot him immediately and wander over through the crowd. Stiles nods at them. “They do.”

Jackson laughs then. “As if you’re friends with Hale. He's a sophomore. And the biggest hotshot on campus.”

Stiles doesn’t have to say anything because Derek reaches him with a grin and puts a beer right into his hand, without even noticing Jackson standing there. Jackson glances between them, glares and vanishes back into the press of bodies and Stiles does his best to resist doing a victory dance at showing Jackson up for once. He knows older students usually find freshman annoying, so he feels even more satisfied that Derek is still his friend.

When he sees that Derek hasn’t started drinking from his own bottle yet he raises an eyebrow. Derek's strangely solemn for a second and Stiles thinks maybe he did dress too casual for this party after all before Boyd waves a hand theatrically between them.

“And now the drink yourselves into a stupor challenge begins,” he announces. “Stiles representing the Underage Drinking Stable in this corner and Derek representing the Immature Sophomore Faction in the other.”

“We are not wrestling,” Stiles warns, pointing his beer at Derek. “This guy will crush me. I’m too beautiful to be crushed.”

Derek pushes the cold beer against Stiles’ cheek in response and Boyd nudges him away. “There will be no interference, no spitting, no sabotage and definitely no puking. I’m walking away now so I can deny knowing either of you.”

Derek claps him on the back when Boyd squeezes through the crowd and heads over to join Kira and Scott. Erica should be arriving any minute. Stiles grins wide and challenging once they’re alone. “You are so going down, dude. Hope you like the taste of defeat.”

“Stiles I’ve been drinking since I was six years old, you can’t beat me I’m a child prodigy.”

He snorts. “Well I’ve been drinking since I was two. Earlier even. I literally came out of the womb carrying a beer.”

Derek splutters with laughter just as someone starts chanting for Duke University. The crowd picks it up so quickly it’s like they’ve been waiting all night. “Duke, Duke, Duke,” Stiles joins in before chugging the beer in his hand in one go.

He swallows and swallows and manages to drain the whole thing, bringing out his mad skills to show Derek he’s truly out of his league tonight. Once he’s finished, Derek is staring him at him in amazement.

“Are you not entertained?” Stiles shouts over the chanting, grinning like an idiot when Derek raises a defiant eyebrow and skulls his beer too.

Stiles watches his throat work as he swallows it down and suddenly he’s insanely thirsty. He glances over at the kitchen where a bunch of girls are crowded around a table pouring drinks into shot glasses, Allison and Lydia among them. Lydia seems to sense his gaze because she turns and raises a shot glass daringly and Stiles decides immediately that they are his people.

“Reckon you can handle shots?” Stiles wonders innocently, knowing he’s going to do his best to shame Derek with how much more he can drink.

His liver is not going to thank him for it, but Stiles is so gonna win this. Derek follows the direction of his gaze and lifts his chin. “Better than you I bet.”

Stiles cracks his knuckles and prepares to go and join those beautiful ladies. “Let’s find out then, big guy.”

Derek laughs and squeezes around him to get to the table first.

Oh, it is so on.

 



When Stiles opens his eyes again, groaning and regretting life, he’s naked, his head hurts and Derek’s in his bed. Derek’s naked in his bed.

Then last night comes flooding back.

The drinking. The big talking. Losing Erica and Boyd. Scott, Isaac and Kira heading out when Scott started throwing up. Jackson laughing at him. Lydia licking salt off Allison’s stomach, downing a shot. Stiles stumbling back to his dorm with Derek in tow. Needing at least six tries to get the key in the lock, Derek laughing unhelpfully at his back.

Them crashing on the bed and laughing even more. Stiles’ head spinning, the room rolling and Derek’s smile the biggest thing in the whole world.

Stiles leaning in to kiss Derek’s mouth. Derek kissing back. Then the nakedness. Derek’s cock, warm and heavy in his hand. How he gasped when Stiles pushed lubed up fingers into his ass. Stiles on top of him, grasping tightly at his dick to keep from coming too fast. The sound Derek had made when Stiles finally pushed his cock inside sometime after.

God, they’d had sex. Stiles fucked a guy.

What the hell happened?

He’s not so sure how he feels about that right now, considering they were drunk beyond all belief. The circumstances could probably have been better. Stiles can’t even remember if there was a consent talk involved. Both of them were messy.

Stiles is pretty sure those shots were tequila. But it was good though. Insanely good. He remembers that at least.

But now he wonders how this is all going to go down exactly. Derek never mentioned being into guys and Stiles doesn’t know if he’ll react all that well. He’s the one who got fucked in the ass after all.

Stiles doesn’t even know if he prepped him properly. He’s seen enough porn to know that’s a thing at least. But he could barely stand up straight when he dragged Derek back here to crash. Stiles doesn’t even know how they accomplished getting their clothes off, letting alone messing around enough to have sex. He doesn’t really even know how he got hard enough to fuck someone.

Stiles is pretty sure they didn’t use a condom either.

He needs to pee but Derek’s arm is thrown over his chest and there’s no way he can wiggle out from under him without waking him up. But then Derek stirs anyway before that becomes a problem and Stiles’ heart starts beating faster.

He groans at first, the sound of one severely hung over when he rolls over and sees his arm is curled over Stiles. Frowning a little, Derek pulls it back without a word and Stiles suddenly feels cold.

“Stiles?” he mutters, confused. “What-?”

He shifts again, seems to realise he’s naked and then he’s glancing over at Stiles’ bare chest and frowning even more deeply. And then Stiles starts to feel nervous.

“So, pretty wild night, right?” he ventures tentatively.

“What- what-“ Derek says, sitting up, trying to stand before he staggers a little and sits back down on the edge of the bed, tangled up in Stiles’ sheets.

“Oh,” he says, suddenly looking down at himself. “We- we had-“

Sex.

Stiles isn’t sure he could finish that sentence either. Derek’s eyes are wider than usual when he turns back to look at him. “You fucked me,” he murmurs as if he can hardly believe it himself.

Stiles has no idea what to say. Should he apologise? Derek’s tense enough that it probably couldn’t hurt. He’s got the kind of look on his face that Stiles is familiar with, the very same one he had that time Joey was making fun of Derek's bunny teeth and Stiles pushed him over on the playground. They hadn't even been in the same grade at school, but after that, Stiles coming to defend Derek when no one else did, it had cemented their friendship.

When Stiles opens his mouth though, Derek bends over to snatch his jeans off the floor as if he’s planning to make a break for it. Stiles understands that. He’d be getting out of here too if it wasn’t already his room.

Derek starts jerking his legs uncoordinatedly into the pants of his jeans when he freezes and sits up abruptly like someone’s thrown an ice bucket over his head. “You fucked me in the ass without a condom,” he gasps. “You-“

Came inside me.

Stiles doesn’t need for him to finish the sentence. He already knows what he’s trying to say. Stiles came in him last night, and Derek can probably still feel it. Heat curls in his gut and Stiles realises that this wasn’t just a one-time thing, being attracted to a guy. Being attracted to Derek. Turns out that’s not going away.

Because already it feels like he wants to do it again. Preferably without the drunkenness and the hangover.

“Derek-“ he tries, floundering on how best to explain this.

It’s not like he can turn around and say it was a prank or a joke. They slept together.

He must finally manage to put his jeans back on because abruptly Derek’s launching to his feet, pitching around a little before he leans down and scoops up his sweatshirt off the floor too. He throws it on without once looking in Stiles’ direction and he does his best to pretend he’s not watching him.

What is Stiles supposed to do here? He doesn’t know the protocol for these types of situations. But then apparently neither does Derek. “Don’t tell anyone about this,” he says eventually, almost impossible to read. “I- I have to go.”

Stiles nearly tips out of the bed when he scrambles towards him. “Wait- we should-“

But Derek is already darting out of his room, the door snapping shut behind him.

And Stiles can’t help but feel like he royally fucked this up.

 



He showers first. Then sends a text to Scott asking to meet him and tries not to look at the mess he and Derek made of the bed sheets when he returns back to his room. His roommate, Isaiah went to the same party last night, and thankfully hooked up somewhere else.

“I think I’m into Derek,” Stiles admits once he’s met Scott out on the grassy knoll behind their dorm.

Scott seems to be feeling much better after he threw up last night and Stiles almost could believe it never happened.

It’s a good thing they’re outside. He doesn’t really want to sit in his room right now where the bed sheets are still ruffled from last night and the room still kind of reeks of sex. He hadn’t been able to change the sheets or even crack open the window. Stiles is still reeling over the what happened. The sex.

Sex that he doesn’t really remember all that well. But that he wishes he did.

Scott snorts, and barely blinks. “Yeah dude, you’re bisexual, right?”

Bisexual?

“Wait- so like both?”

Scott starts tugging grass out by the roots and letting it blow away on the breeze. “Yeah, dude. Both. Girls and boys. Though it’s not like there’s only a binary of boys or girls- pretty sure there’s genderfluid and non-binary-“

“How do you know all this?” Stiles demands, appalled by the knowledge spewing forth from Scott’s mouth right now.

“I’m taking a gender studies class, dude, I told you. But yeah, cool man, glad you finally told me about Derek.”

Huh. Maybe this wasn’t as unexpected as Stiles originally thought. “You knew?”

Does this mean he somehow knows about what happened last night? Stiles didn’t send him a drunk text about it, did he? They only started kissing once they got back into Stiles’ room.

“What that you’re bi?” Scott wonders, genuinely confused. “Do you know how many times you’ve suggested we make out? And you haven’t stopped talking about Derek since you ran into each other- in pretty vivid detail, man.”

So, he doesn’t know then. Good. Because Derek asked him not to tell anyone about what happened between them, and Stiles isn’t a big enough asshole not to keep his word. Scott seems pretty unconcerned about the whole bisexual thing though.

Stiles wonders if he should feel more irritated that he hasn’t blown Scott’s mind or something. Being friends for forever doesn’t mean there can’t still be some mystery between them.

“And how do you know I’m not gay?” he demands, kind of put out. “I could totally just be into dudes.”

Scott just gives him this breezy look. “Okay.”

Stiles lays back down onto the grass with a grumble. “Fine. I like girls too. You happy now?”

“Sure,” Scott agrees, smiling, and Stiles turns on his side to narrow his eyes at him. He’s much too agreeable for midday, and a possible hang over.

“Are you fucking high right now?”

Scott’s mouth curls up in a lazy grin. “Isaac gave me the last of his pot brownies this morning.”

Stiles sits up abruptly. Isaac gave them to him? Isaac, the human building who’s probably plotting Stiles’ demise as they speak? “And you didn’t share?”

Scott shrugs his shoulders apologetically. “There was only enough for me.”

“You’re the worst,” Stiles decides, dropping back into the grass again.

Maybe he should just give up on best friends altogether.

 

 

Stiles catches sight of Derek coming out of a lecture hall and hastily turns around and walks the other way.

He tried texting Derek on Sunday night to see how he was doing following their ill-conceived hook up and received no answer. He’s pretty sure that their friendship is over, but Stiles is still in the denial stages yet and wants to keep pretending there’s hope for a better tomorrow.

Even if it’s Wednesday now and he still hasn’t heard from Derek at all.

Stiles knows now that he’s seen him he should probably be the one initiating this conversation considering Derek’s freak out and Stiles’ sudden insight into full bisexualness, but Derek got to run away last time and maybe Stiles wants to give it a try.

He ends up in one of the more abandoned corridors because some dude actually threw up and passed out in the main hall this morning and there was a whole medical incident thing- though they’ve cleaned up the puke since- and Stiles hopes that he can get back to his dorm and continue a lonely existence where nobody knows that he and Derek fucked.

Except Derek’s bearing down on him a second later. Stiles really shouldn’t have forgotten he’s on a partial sports scholarship. The guy moves fast.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were gay?” he says immediately, keeping his voice lowered.

Stiles blinks owlishly at him. “Uh... because I’m not?”

Derek’s eyebrows kind of bunch up in frustration that the conversation isn’t going the way he expected. Stiles suddenly realises that he rehearsed this. “The other night-“

Derek trails off and the rest of it sits heavily between them. Stiles’ skin is warm all over. He wishes that he could remember more of what happened. He wishes they hadn’t both been so drunk at the time. Maybe all of this might have been easier. Maybe something more could have happened than just sex.

“I like girls,” Stiles blurts out. “-too?”

“Then why didn’t you say you were bi?” Derek demands. “Did you think I’d care?”

Stiles isn’t trying to start shit, but so far the evidence seems pretty stacked against him. Derek did bail on him after all. And hasn’t seemed interested in talking to him since. That’s pretty damning. “Well you did run out of my room pretty fast-“

Derek’s hands are curled into fists and Stiles wonders if he should be feeling nervous about that. But he’s not. Derek would never hurt him. Not physically at least. He’s definitely put Stiles’ emotions through the metaphorical clothes dryer this past week.

“Because when I woke up I wasn’t expecting to find out I’d been fucked in the ass for the first time.”

Stiles glances around them quickly, but the two students at the other end of the hallway don’t seem to be paying attention to them. “I’d never- with a guy either. It was a first for me too. I sort of- didn’t fully know I was bisexual?”

Stiles wants to ask if he hurt him, if Derek thought the sex was good, if he’s maybe interested in doing it again but he can’t form any of the words. Plus he’s not ready for the look on Derek’s face if he could finally work up the courage. Or the rejection.

Derek runs a hand through his hair, unbelievably frustrated. “How did we even get so drunk? If we hadn’t this would never have happened.”

What? He can’t be serious right now. Stiles' mouth falls open but Derek's face doesn't change and he doesn't take the words back. So he's definitely not on the same wavelength as Stiles is about this.

“Okay, so you want to blame it on the alcohol,” he says, finally understanding. “Whereas I was gonna say if you’re really torn up about losing your ass virginity to me and it offended your implausible ideas about masculinity or whatever, that I could uh- return the favour.”

Derek glares at him. “This isn’t even about- Stiles, I just- wait, are you saying you’d let me fuck you?”

Stiles watches the incredulous expression take over his face and unconsciously licks his lips. “I mean, in the spirit of fairness yeah. I’d be uh- down with that.”

Derek advances on him a little. “You’d let- you want me to fuck you?”

He’s standing so close that when Stiles shifts he meets the wall at his back. “I mean- yes? I’m new to this but I’m pretty sure I’d let you do anything so…”

Derek jerks back at the words. “I’m not- I’m not-”

He can’t even get the rest out. Stiles didn’t realise having a morning after with Derek would lead to so many incomplete sentences.

“Interested in me? Or interested at all?”

Derek reaches out and puts a hand on Stiles’ chest when he tries to move in closer, keeping him firmly pressed up against the wall. “Look, let’s not talk about this anymore, alright?” he mutters intensely. “It was an accident. There’s nothing actually between us. So, we can just pretend it never happened.”

Stiles remembers the way Derek kissed him that night, so deeply that he thought there wasn’t enough air in his lungs. Disappointment churns in his stomach. “Right. An accident,” he agrees hollowly. “But like- are- are we still friends?”

Derek’s face softens completely, and he’s dragging Stiles into his arms, clutching him tight. “You even need to ask? We’re friends, Stiles. Course we are. We just got drunk and did some stupid shit, that’s all.”

For a second he wonders if he should say something, because whatever’s going on with them right now, Stiles is pretty sure what he feels for Derek isn’t just platonic. And it definitely wasn’t stupid shit.

This is going to be a problem.

Derek lets him go before he’s ready, but suddenly he’s cupping Stiles’ jaw with his palm, hand warm and big as his thumb slides across his skin in an imitation of a caress. Stiles shivers and for a wild moment thinks Derek might just kiss him anyway.

But he doesn’t.

His eyes are warmer now, the tension between them forgotten just like that, and Stiles is doing his best not to lean into Derek’s hand and kiss his fingers. Whoa boy, this is not good.

“Friends,” Derek repeats firmly, before he’s dropping his hand and turning away at the sound of footsteps.

When another student steps around the corner there’s so much space between them that they could pass off as strangers.

And after Derek ducks out of the way and heads back to his dorm with an easy wave, Stiles wonders for a horrible moment if they might be better off that way.

 



Stiles can’t seem to get a handle on this feelings thing, because Derek’s gone back to studying with him, meeting after class and hanging out as if nothing ever happened.

He’s so good at denial, the river in Egypt should be named after him. Stiles really doesn’t know how to go about it, but he’s so glad that Derek’s talking to him again that he’s afraid to rock the boat.

Not to mention finally figuring out he’s bi, and into dudes too. Stiles feels like he’s supercharged all the time. The slightest things turn him on so easily now that he's more aware of himself. Watching Boyd’s arms flex when he scoops Erica off the bench top one afternoon after she’s fallen asleep there, catching the sharpness of Isaac’s cheekbones, when he absentmindedly pushes his curls off his face and laughs at her.

But it’s the worst with Derek.

Stiles feels a jolt in his gut every single time Derek so much as touches him. He lingered a second too long on a goodbye hug yesterday and Stiles literally got hard in his pants. He feels like he’s hardwired for feelings at the moment, now that he’s actually noticing how badly he’s attracted to Derek. Derek, who made it impossibly clear that he only wants friendship.

But everything’s not so simple anymore. Especially when Derek comes out to meet Stiles in the quad, freshly showered and grimacing, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck as he sinks down onto the bench next to him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks Derek, immediately dropping the slice of pizza back into the box he’s been enjoying all to himself in celebration of an assignment being submitted today without disaster.

“I think I fucked up a muscle in my neck,” he admits. “It’s been aching like crazy since I woke up this morning.”

He rolls his neck again and Stiles’ fingers twitch. “Here give me a crack at it,” he mutters, licking pizza sauce off his fingers and applying them to the area that Derek can’t quite get at.

“Yeah,” he says, relaxing immediately under Stiles’ hands. “Thanks. I should’ve just done the same as you and sat here all day eating pizza.”

“I’m living the high life,” Stiles agrees, working his hand into the source of the knot there and not bothering to defend himself when he’s been working on finishing a 2,000 word essay all day and is finally taking a break to eat.

Derek lets out a long groan, leaning into the touch and Stiles’ freezes at the sound, yanking his hands away. Oh no. Stiles knows that noise. He sounds exactly like he did when they had sex. Why is he trying to torture Stiles like this?

Derek starts turning once he realises that Stiles isn’t touching him anymore. “You alright-?” he begins to ask.

And Stiles’ face is bright red. “Yeah, just- my pizza is getting cold,” he mutters, hurriedly cramming the last slice into his mouth for an excuse to put his hands literally anywhere else.

Derek grins at him and doesn’t seem to think anything is amiss.

It’s all Stiles can do to table the whole secret feelings thing for the time being, doing his best not to choke on the food in his mouth.

 



“Just tell him how you feel,” Scott suggests, getting ready for his first date with Kira, while Stiles is flopped over backwards on his bed and generally not giving out any helpful first date advice.

Stiles’ dress sense isn’t much better than Scott’s, he doesn’t want to ruin his chances before Scott’s even had the chance to walk out the door.

“You know it’s more complicated than that,” he sighs. “I basically told him I’d let him do anything to me, and he wanted to pretend it never happened. Not much I can do about that.”

Scott frowns a little. Stiles hasn't told Scott that he and Derek had sex, because Derek asked him not to, but he did admit in a round about way that he's realised his feelings for him, and tried to take things further. Before Derek rejected him. Which is more or less true.

“But I’ve seen you together. He’s not acting like friends. The way he touches you is super different to how I would.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Now that we’ve established I’m some kind of swamp monster that people shy away from-“

“You know what I mean,” Scott replies, fixing his hair for the sixth time already. “It just seems more- intimate than friends. I don’t even think he realises that yet.”

Stiles did not want to know that. And he doesn't want to admit how on the money Scott is about the newfound intimacy between them.

But he also doesn’t want to go around carrying a hopeful torch for Derek for the rest of the year. That’s so not how his college plans were supposed to go. He was meant to show up, and if by some odd miracle people were attracted to him, have wild amounts of casual sex and really find himself as a person by boning as many people as were interested. Thereby shedding his awkward loser status.

He can’t believe he's this far gone on Derek already. It hasn’t even been three weeks. Could there be residual feelings left over from their childhood? No, that’s ridiculous, Stiles didn’t have a crush on Derek when he was eight.

Right?

He groans again.

“You are terrible first date support,” Scott decides and Stiles dumps his bare feet on Scott’s pillow in revenge.

“She likes you already, what have you got to lose?”

Somehow Scott seems cheered by that. “I still think you should talk to him though. Just randomly hitting on him isn't going to get the results you want. You're gonna have to talk about your feelings, dude, if you ever want to get anywhere.”

Stiles flips him the bird.

 



“Where’s all the annoying victory songs?” Derek asks when Stiles has been thoughtfully tapping a pen against his knee for the past ten minutes, sitting on Derek’s floor in front of the TV where they’re watching Buzzfeed Unsolved.

“Huh?” he asks, snapping out of his thoughts. “What?”

“For Shahidi’s class?” Derek clarifies. “Didn’t you say that essay was kicking your ass and you couldn’t wait to see it in fiery depths of hell once you submitted it?”

Stiles jerks up at the words.

“Holy shit, I didn’t submit it!”

Derek pauses the show and drops the remote. “Fuck,” he says, eyes wide. “You didn’t do it?”

“No,” Stiles protests, already climbing onto Derek’s bed in search of his laptop. He usually tosses it on the edge of the mattress where it inevitably gets buried in blankets. “I did the assignment in the library but I sent it to my email to submit it from my laptop instead since the Wi-Fi is so spotty there.”

Derek stands up too to help him look. “When’s the deadline?”

Stiles picks up his phone from where he dropped it on the floor when he first arrived here. “Fuck, ten minutes. Shit, I fucking forgot about it. How did I forget about it?”

“Here,” Derek says, dragging the laptop out from under his pillow. “Submit it now.”

Stiles unlocks Derek’s laptop because by now he knows the password and he quickly pulls up the internet browser and logs into his email, whilst loading his student account.

“Who even puts the deadline at six pm?” Derek wonders, getting resettled while Stiles frantically fixes his problem. “Midnight always. Otherwise you just want to see people suffer.”

“Exactly,” Stiles agrees, clicking into his assignments page for the class and uploading the document saved in his email. “It’s total bullshit.”

He sends it with five minutes to spare.

“Jesus,” he says after, heart still beating fast. “You totally saved my ass. Thanks, dude.”

Derek shrugs but doesn’t pick up the remote again. “Hey you want food? Burritos? Extra Guac?”

“Uh- the answer to that is hell yes, obviously.”

Derek puts a hand on Stiles’ head and gently shoves him to the side. Stiles keeps a hold of the laptop and manages to rock back into place without tipping over, sending Derek a shitty look for his trouble.

“You coming?” Derek asks, once he’s picked up his wallet and put some shoes on.

Stiles glances down at himself where he’s wearing his ugly pants and a sideless tank top shirt with the least amount of stains on it, which is two. A coffee stain and some kind of red sauce on the hem. Laundry day is definitely on the agenda for tomorrow.

He looks back at Derek again where he’s standing by the doorway, watching him in perfectly clean clothes that make him look incredibly easy on the eyes, and extremely bangable.

“I wouldn’t shame you like this.”

Derek rolls his eyes, but there’s a grin curving up at the corner of his mouth. “Okay. You stay here while I get the number of the hot girl who works on Chipotle’s register every Sunday night.”

Stiles’ grin freezes on his face, and it takes everything in his power not to let it turn into a grimace. “You do that, buddy,” he says. “Your clothes are without stain and this means you are the better suitor.”

Derek snorts, low and amused, and shoots Stiles this warm look that heats him all the way up inside before he heads out the door.

“Well I’m fucked,” Stiles says to the empty room at large once he's gone.

Because it feels like a thing that needs to be stated.

While Derek’s getting food, he bums around on the internet for a while, checking his Facebook before he’s idly browsing Derek’s bookmarks, wondering what kind of things he likes to save. Normally it would be an invasion of privacy, but Stiles caught Derek doing the same thing nearly four days ago when he was on Stiles’ laptop and they were studying in the library.

So he’s assuming it’s cool.

And Stiles doesn’t bookmark anything that he doesn’t expect somebody else will look at. Most of Derek’s bookmarks Stiles recognises: study links, some recipes, a few sports websites, several podcasts that Stiles didn’t think he listened to and a link that says tax calculator of all things.

Stiles frowns at that one a little, wondering why Derek would need to bookmark such a thing and clicks on it just for the hell of it. Mostly so he can make fun of Derek later. Except the site the link leads to is nothing like what it says. It’s to a video and Stiles doesn’t need to look at the pornhub domain in the browser to know that it’s porn. It’s pretty clear from the photo overlaying the video.

What’s the most surprising though, is that it’s two dudes. Stiles recognises it because he’s seen the video before when he’s jerked off and it’s exactly the type of stuff he’s been watching lately. Ever since he and Derek got drunk and hooked up.

But somehow he didn’t think Derek was looking at gay porn too. He clicks out of it quickly, worried Derek’s going to get back and catch him, and goes into the recent history and deletes it. Stiles doesn’t know what he’s meant to think about this. Is Derek watching it because he’s obsessing over what happened? Or is he just genuinely curious?

Stiles ends up closing the laptop and setting it back on Derek’s bed in the meantime, trying not to let himself spin out of control over this new discovery. Derek said he didn’t want to discuss it, that it’s just an accident that happened because they were drunk.

Is this another accident too?

Soon enough there’s keys in the door and in the next second Derek is opening it wide, striding in and carrying a plastic bag full of their spoils.

“Great,” Stiles says, jumping up and taking a burrito before Derek can ask questions about the weird look on his face. “I’m starving.”

 

 

There’s a mixer on Sunday night and Stiles goes with the rest of the group purely because they hassle him about losing the drinking competition with Derek and drag him out of his dorm.

“I resent that,” Stiles mutters, following Scott and Boyd over to the frat house. “I totally won.”

“You went home and passed out,” Isaac says, rolling his eyes. “Derek told us.”

Stiles glares at him.

So that’s what he’s saying happened then? Derek gives him a bit of a desperate look like he thinks Stiles is going to correct him, and blurt out the drunken sex they had instead, but Stiles isn’t that big of an asshole.

“Did he mention he passed out too?” Stiles wonders. “Check and mate, buddy. There was no victor in that battle.”

Derek relaxes as Erica leads them though the front door. “Want a rematch?”

Stiles takes one look at the fresh game of beer pong set up on the table and groans like he’s in physical pain. “That’s it. I’m officially the designated driver.”

Erica tosses a ping pong at him. “We didn’t even drive here, dipstick.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m on call, isn’t it? If anyone starts drowning in their own vomit I can totally be the hero in that story.”

“You didn’t even notice when Scott was puking at the last party,” Boyd points out rather unfairly.

“I was locked in a drinking battle to the death, Boyd, I was clearly occupied.”

“I threw up so much,” Scott remarks sadly, before accepting a cup from Kira and downing it all at once.

“Yeah, lesson clearly learned there, Scotty,” he mutters rolling his eyes as he spots Jackson coming towards them.

Stiles prepares to defend his presence here, but apparently Jackson isn’t interested in being a dick tonight. “This mixer’s got a short shelf life,” he shouts to the group at large over the music. “Neighbours have already complained twice about the noise.”

They take that for the warning it is and head over to where Allison and Lydia are waving at them.

“Here,” Allison says, quickly shoving drinks into their hands while Lydia pours more vodka. “I’m pretty sure this party is about to be broken up.”

It’s barely even midnight, but Stiles gets to watch his friends swallow concerning amounts of alcohol in order to get the full experience as quickly as possible. Derek is the only one who stands there nursing his beer the whole time.

“Couldn’t hack it either?” Stiles wonders, nudging his hand.

Derek makes a face at him. “I’m majoring in biology, Stiles. I know exactly what this shit will do to my body. And I have practice early tomorrow.”

Stiles imagines trying to do basketball drills hungover and winces sympathetically. “Fair enough.”

Jackson and Allison were right on the cops front because when everyone’s dancing and finally buzzed enough to really get going there are red and blue lights flashing through the windows, signalling the evening has come to a bitter end.

Everyone heads out the back instead, climbing over the fence and taking off back to campus just as the cops knock on the front door. Stiles might not have drunk anything tonight but Scott and Isaac aren’t sober enough to have their IDs checked. There’s a lot of underage drinking going on, and Stiles’ dad is still a Sheriff.

They separate once they reach the main building and Derek catches at Stiles’ arm before he starts trudging back to his dorm room. It’s on the other side of campus, but the plus side is if any cops come this way, he can just lie and say he was studying in the library.

He only smells a little bit like alcohol. Mostly beer that Scott spilled on his shoes.

“Come on,” Derek says, at his ear, dragging him in a different direction. “Let’s go back to my dorm, it’s closer.”

Scott’s already taken off with Kira. Boyd, Erica, Isaac, Lydia and Allison have gone back to Boyd’s dorm room to keep drinking and Jackson disappeared into a muscular looking dude’s flashy car ten minutes ago. Stiles hasn’t slept over in Derek’s room, or had Derek in his room since they had sex.

He never said anything, but Stiles just figured it was another unspoken rule, them not being alone in a bedroom together for the night. But he follows Derek back to his room anyway. They don’t get pulled up or anything and Derek lets them in with his key. His roommate Dario is visiting family this weekend, most weekends actually, and Derek’s basically got free run of the room.

“You got any spare clothes?” Stiles wonders, slipping out of his shoes and leaving them by the door in case of a need to escape.

“Shirt might be a little big,” Derek says as he heads over to his chest of drawers and tosses a grey shirt and baby blue sleep pants in Stiles’ direction.

Stiles catches them just before they hit the ground. “Yeah dude, I got it, your muscles are bigger than all my muscles.”

Derek snorts and steps back to nudge Stiles good naturedly, only he’s not ready for it and he staggers into the wall instead. Derek follows after him with a laugh, trying to catch Stiles before he falls over completely.

“You have zero coordination,” he says, grinning like he’s gonna start snickering all over again.

Stiles wants to knee him in the balls. Or kiss him.

But then Derek’s got a hold on of his forearm, hand wrapped around his back from when he tried to catch him before they knocked into the wall. Stiles drops the pile of clothes with a snort of laughter and struggles to stay upright.

He feels drunk on this moment, even though he hasn’t touched a drop tonight and it’s so good to still have this with Derek. After everything went so wrong.

Derek’s body is warm and hard against him, a source of comfort that he never thought he’d find again. The air sparks between them, a moment of heat there that wasn’t there before. Stiles realises Derek’s practically got him pressed up against the wall, hands all over him, chest to chest and he hasn’t backed off yet.

Why hasn’t he backed off?

Derek is staring at him for longer than he usually does, and when his eyes drop to Stiles’ mouth, he starts to think something else might be happening. Something he didn’t think was ever going to happen again.

Before he can ask to make sure, Derek leans in and kisses him, hard on the mouth like he’s afraid not to. Stiles gasps under him, lips parting automatically, unbearable heat between them when Derek moves his hands up into Stiles’ hair.

Stiles gets so lost in kissing that he’s not thinking about anything else until Derek’s hands are at his jeans and he’s pulling back to stare at him.

“You were serious, weren’t you?” Derek gasps, hands pointedly sliding along Stiles’ hips. “About giving up your ass to me?”

Stiles groans and manages to nod, throwing his arms around Derek’s neck and reeling him back in again. It’s not hard though because Derek’s already leaning in to kiss him.

Then he drags Stiles over to his bed.

It’s different this time. The both of them are more or less sober, alert and utterly aware of the press of bodies when they both manage to get naked.

Derek fumbles for the lube under his bed and Stiles is already panting like he’s run a marathon when Derek returns in time to roll him over onto his stomach. Stiles drops his head face first into the pillows and tries not to smother himself. His dick is pressing so hard into the mattress already and he’s sure to make a wet spot if Derek drags this on for much longer.

He startles at the soft slide of fingers across his lower back, spreading out across the swell of his ass cheeks. Stiles moans, even though Derek’s not even really doing anything. The anticipation is getting to be too much already.

Then there’s wet fingers between his ass cheeks, sliding against his hole and Stiles can barely speak for how badly he wants this.

"Condom?" Derek pants, when his fingers are moving so perfectly inside Stiles.

"Urghh," he groans, struggling to say words. "I haven't- with anyone before."

Derek's fingers still inside him. "What ever?" he demands, surprised.

Stiles flushes and squirms a little, trying to hide his face. "Nope. Wasn't just your ass virginity that got taken. Kind of embarrassing it happened when I was drunk though."

Derek leans down and places a soft kiss in his hair, making Stiles shiver. "It's not embarrassing. I'm glad it happened with you. I've only ever had one girlfriend and I got tested after we broke up. I'm clean."

His fingers start moving again and Stiles can't speak anymore. He regains the ability when Derek’s stretched him enough and slipped in between his legs, slicking up his cock with lube and leaning over him to rummage through the drawer for a condom.

"No," Stiles says. "No condom."

"Are you sure?" Derek wonders, hesitating a little.

Stiles bites his lip and nods, swallowing heavily when Derek leans in and finally lines himself up for the big time. Stiles swallows again and tries not to act nervous. But he forgets about all of that when he feels Derek’s dick against him.

“Oh God,” Stiles says, at the first press of Derek’s cock. “Oh God, Oh God, Oh-“

Derek stops pushing in when he’s about halfway and Stiles is close to losing his mind. “Does that mean it’s good or bad?” he wonders, hesitating to proceed without the confirmation.

Stiles gets a grip on Derek’s thigh and tries to drag him down further. “It means don’t stop, you dick,” he pants, trying to lift himself up and turn around to give Derek a dirty look for not immediately continuing.

But there’s a hand on the nape of his neck and Derek’s pushing him back onto his mattress so he can keep going and Stiles’ dick twitches at how easily Derek holds him down. Oh man, that’s definitely a kink for sure.

“Fuck me,” he moans.

Derek starts sliding in further and Stiles lets out the longest noise he’s ever made in his life, amazed by what some lube and a sensible amount of prep can do.

“Holy shit, you’re tight,” Derek breathes, smoothing his hands down Stiles’ back before reaching his ass cheeks and spreading them wide, watching as his cock gets all the way inside.

Stiles feels like he should be embarrassed or irritated by that, but instead he’s panting into the crook of his arm, doing his best to adjust around the fullness of it, putting himself more on display.

“Jesus, you’re big,” Stiles mutters, feeling the press of Derek’s balls right up against his ass, signalling he’s finally in deep.

And then Derek shifts, jarring Stiles with the cock he currently has inside him when he leans over and kisses along Stiles’ neck. “Oh yeah?” he teases, nudging his hips a little in a parody of a real thrust and Stiles is praying to the gods right now that he doesn’t come in an pathetically short amount of time.

“How big am I?” Derek wonders innocently, spreading his fingers across Stiles’ ass like he’s marking him up with them.

“God, shut up,” Stiles retorts, unwilling to boost Derek’s already inflated ego. It’s not like Stiles hasn’t practically drooled over him from the beginning. “It’s the first dick in my ass. Anyone’s would have felt big.”

Derek laughs into his ear, turning his head and kissing along Stiles’ cheek until he reaches his lips again. He draws back a little, slipping out and Stiles can already see where this is going.

“Nah, I’m just that good,” he promises, kicking Stiles’ legs apart a little more, spreading him wider around Derek’s cock.

“Big dick doesn’t mean you know how to use-“

Derek thrusts all at once, unexpectedly, putting all that strength to good use. Stiles inhales sharply as he’s rocked violently forward, Derek’s dick filling him up and then pounding into him.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh-“

Stiles’ skin is red all over and he can barely keep his head up because of Derek’s brain melting thrusts. His dick already feels tight, like he’s going to clench right up and come all over Derek’s nice soft sheets in the next few seconds.

And Derek kissing along his throat, hot tongue tasting his skin there certainly isn’t helping things.

“I didn’t know it’d be this easy to get you speechless,” Derek pants, around a laugh, rolling his hips in a languid arch, easing off like he knows Stiles is already about to come.

He ends up nailing Stiles’ prostate when he does that and then Stiles really can’t talk anymore. Not until Derek does it again. “Oh fuck-k,” he cries, clenching down on Derek’s dick for a second. “Derek-“

“Stiles,” he moans, picking up the pace again, fucking into him faster and harder. “You feel so good.”

“Touch my dick,” Stiles pants. “Oh God, Derek please. I’m close.”

“Yeah?” he says, hips pumping as he works a hand under Stiles and finds his cock.

He nuzzles into Stiles’ neck, kissing along his throat and Stiles has never felt so good or so protected with Derek here like this. “Shit,” he cries out, balls tightening up, as he starts to come.

He shudders through the aftermath, clutching weakly at Derek’s arms, trying to hold him closer as his thrusts become more sloppy. Derek comes next, and Stiles can actually feel it in his ass, how Derek’s cock spasms through his orgasm, filling him up with it.

“Fuck,” he sighs, collapsing fully onto the bed, humming happily when Derek drops down on top of him and doesn’t move, even if he is a bit heavy. “God that was-“

“Yeah,” Derek agrees, and he’s hasn’t pulled out yet but Stiles finds that it doesn’t bother him that much.

They don’t talk about it afterward. But Stiles thinks it’s just another accident again. Something Derek wants them to forget about.

Except Derek tells him to stay over this time. Stiles is worried about the mess they’ve made of him, and if it’s worth hitting the communal shower but Derek just picks up a towel and wipes up the come they’ve left everywhere.

Stiles expects some kind of change or awkwardness, but Derek doesn’t even bother to put clothes back on, and he has no complaints when Stiles stays naked either. Cuddling up to a naked Derek Hale, it turns out, is a wonderful thing.

Stiles sleeps soundly.

 



He runs into Scott on his walk of shame back to his own dorm the next morning. Scott might have teased him about that, except he’s clearly wearing the same clothes as last night too.

“Walk of shame?” he asks, pointing at Scott’s everything.

Scott flushes a little and shakes his head. “We stayed up all night talking. Then we cuddled. She let me be the little spoon.”

Stiles has to agree being the little spoon can be awesome.

“You got laid though, didn’t you?” Scott wonders suspiciously. “I saw you limping over here.”

He nods and wonders how obvious it is that someone went to town on his ass last night.

“Derek?”

Derek never said anything about keeping it a secret this time. And Stiles isn't in the mood for making up fake dudes who fucked him last night. It's way too early for that subterfuge. “Yeah,” he sighs. “Not really sure how it happened. But he didn’t run away or freak.”

“Well at least you were sober,” Scott points out happily, completely unaware that when it happened the first time that was not the case at all. "So if he did freak out he couldn't blame it on alcohol or something."

Stiles brightens a little. That’s right. They totally had their heads on last night and Derek still wanted to fuck him. That porn on Derek’s laptop must go beyond idle curiosity after all. It's not like he can argue it was an accident this time around.

“I mean who knows, he might try. Or maybe he’ll never mention it again. But he can’t just pretend to have sex amnesia- that’s crazy.”

“Not if you don’t talk to him,” Scott suggest fairly. “He might be having some total crises about it right now. It's kind of a big deal if he's never done it before.”

Stiles would like to argue that he has, but that would be going against his promise to Derek. He makes a frustrated sound instead.

“This literally just happened. I don’t want to blow it before it’s even started.”

Scott hesitates. “Just. Just try not to go all Stiles mode about it.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” he demands, narrowing his eyes.

“Like maybe don’t start making a ten-year plan yet like you did with Lydia in high school. It comes off a little... strong.”

“I feel so attacked right now,” he mutters, but maybe Scott has a point.

He’ll hold off on the ten-year plan.

For now.

 



They meet for coffee after classes the next day and when Stiles follows Derek back to his room to play Call of Duty: Black Ops he’s expecting there to be some kind of talk about the fact that Derek fucked him.

Or about how much Stiles enjoyed it.

Derek doesn’t say a word though. He’s his usual irritating self and he totally kills Stiles when they cross paths even though they’re on the same team.

“Oh blow me,” Stiles mutters, annoyed, when he has to restart from his last checkpoint.

“Alright,” Derek agrees, pausing the game and setting the controller down.

Stiles blinks at him. “What?”

Derek scoots closer and very clearly puts his hand atop Stiles’ clothed dick, which immediately stirs under the pressure. “Oh,” he breathes, dropping the controller onto the carpet. “Really?”

Derek pushes Stiles’ legs apart and drops between them, undoing his buttons and pulling his dick out which is already working its way up to half chub.

This is unexpected to say the least. Derek leans in and carefully licks at the tip and Stiles hisses sharply knowing he’s not going to survive this. He wets the head for a little bit with his tongue, not quite putting it in his mouth, but teasing Stiles enough that he’s squirming and desperate for more.

Then he opens his lips and swallows Stiles down fully. He gasps, and tangles his hands in Derek’s hair unthinkingly, yanking hard, and shuddering with pleasure as Derek swallows, hips jerking forward slowly as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He really doesn’t though. Stiles has never been blown before and it’s one of the single most greatest experiences of his life so far.

Even better watching Derek’s eyelashes flutter as his hands works into his pants and gets a gentle hold of his balls, twisting them between his fingers.

And that’s about all it takes.

“Fuck,” Stiles cries and comes in Derek’s mouth.

He seems surprised for a second, but Derek swallows it all down and pulls away with a pleased smile that has Stiles' heart pounding in his chest. They don’t get back to the game for some time.

 



Derek has his first home game a month in, and Stiles goes along to watch with Scott, Lydia, Jackson, and Allison. Boyd and Isaac are on the team as well, and they’re planning to meet Kira and Erica there.

At least because they’re students the tickets are cheaper.

Stiles spots a blonde head waiting outside of the Cameron Indoor Stadium and he cups his hands over his mouth.

“Erica!”

She turns at the sound of her name and waves them all over. Jackson knocks into his shoulder out of nowhere before he even reaches her though. “So how did you become friends with Hale anyway?” Jackson demands, sounding, Stiles thinks, kind of unfairly disbelieving. “You doing his homework?”

Stiles is in no mood for Jackson tonight. “We’re not even sharing any classes, dickface.”

“Are you dying?” he demands. “Is this a pity thing? Make a wish, Stilinski?”

Stiles shoves Jackson off him, and manages to force a smile at Erica and Kira, just before the latter is swept off her feet and into Scott’s arms with a laugh.

“Let’s go in I’m starving,” Erica mutters, yanking on the front of Stiles’ nicely washed shirt and dragging him over to the doors.

Stiles is happy to go along with it. Even if it stretches out his shirt a little. Their seats are pretty good it turns out, and the stadium is rapidly filling up when the Blue Devils come out to run some drills.

Derek catches sight of them, and waves, grinning before his eyes find Stiles’ and linger. There’s a hungry kind of look on his face that makes Stiles’ heart beat faster.

Jackson leans over Allison to continue talking. “Oh, I get it. You’re screwing. Is that it, Stilinski? Messing about with a straight guy? Too bad he and I didn’t meet first, I could’ve shown him what he was really missing out on.”

Stiles’ stomach drops. It’s not like that between them. Stiles isn’t trying to convert Derek or anything. That's not even how it works. They just- like each other.

Allison shoves him back. “Shut up,” she snaps. “Have you ever considered talking shit like this is the reason you’re still single?”

Jackson offers a sweet grin that he uses on all the girls on campus. “Oh, c’mon Allison, I was kidding. Stilinski can’t take a joke.”

Stiles flips him off and doesn’t bother to respond. He’s too focused on Derek’s ass in those basketball shorts.

Basketball is a beautiful game.

As soon as the buzzer starts, Stiles zones out watching Derek move across the court, listening to him shout at his teammates while the other team flitter in and out of his vision. Stiles doesn’t even bother to learn the other team’s name but they’re wearing orange and white and it looks completely tacky.

He’s surprised suddenly when there’s another buzzer and Derek files off the court with the rest of his team. “What happened?” he says, startled.

Allison grins at the dazed look on his face. “Half time.”

Scott and Kira disappears to get food while the rest of the group relax and wait for the game to restart. Stiles studiously ignores Jackson until the Blue Devils are coming back onto the court and the cheers of the stadium are reaching their peak again.

Derek hasn’t been subbed off yet for the game and he takes his seat on the bench for the first five minutes of the second half. He catches Stiles’ eyes a few times, and he looks relaxed and ready to play. Stiles cheers along with the rest when he gets subbed back in, replacing some buff guy and taking over his mark, standing right next Isaac and his player. When Boyd throws in from the sideline. Derek’s the first to get his hands on the ball.

When Stiles looks away from him again the buzzer sounds, and the time on the clock has completely run out. The Blue Devils are cheering and jumping on each other’s backs, crowding in on Derek who got the last shot of the game. A pretty sweet three pointer, if Stiles ever saw one.

Erica is cheering wildly, and the rest of the group are stomping their feet in the stands, laughing and carrying on.

“We won, we won!” Allison shouts in Stiles’ ear.

It’s a little bit of a surprise. Stiles hadn’t checked the scoreboard all game, he’s been so distracted by Derek.

Derek finds his face in the crowd again, grinning so smoothly that Stiles knows he’s going to be bragging about this for the rest of the night. His eyes drop a little and Stiles has the strangest feeling that Derek wants to kiss him right now. Even though he’s all the way up in the stadium and Derek’s standing there on the court like an idiot. Boyd throws an arm around Derek's neck and drags him away towards the locker rooms, and suddenly the moment is broken.

Stiles jumps to his feet and follows the rest of the guys back outside.

“Let’s eat,” Erica says. “They’re gonna shower up and that usually takes a while.”

Lydia takes Allison’s hand and starts leading the group over towards Loop Pizza Grill. Stiles can admit he’s pretty hungry. Concentrating on Derek so hard really worked up an appetite.

The place is busy when they arrive but Lydia magically snags them a booth big enough to fit all of them while the others go up to the counter to order. Stiles’ eyes goes straight for the menu hanging behind the staff and tries to ignore the growls of his stomach.

He orders a burger and coke and adds his order on to the rest of their table, paying the exact amount before sitting down and joining Lydia.

“You should be careful,” she says as soon as he’s gotten comfortable.

Stiles glances behind him to make sure he hasn’t sat down in a sauce stain or something, but when it’s clean he gets confused. “With what?”

“With Derek,” she clarifies. “Jackson was right about that at least. Messing around with straight friends can really cause a lot of pain, Stiles.”

He picks up one of the nearby napkins and starts shredding it with his fingers. “Who says he’s straight?”

But even he can hear the reedy edge of denial in his voice. Derek might not have referred to himself as straight before, but he’s never called himself anything else either.

Lydia nods and doesn’t argue. “As long as you know what you’re doing.”

Stiles does.

 



Derek, Isaac and Boyd show up just as Stiles is finishing off his burger.

Derek’s wearing a Blue Devils hoodie and grey sweatpants and Stiles momentarily forgets how to chew at the sight of him. They throw out their hands and do a victory lap of high fives around the booth, while the rest of the group chants, ‘Duke! Duke! Duke!”

Stiles manages to swallow the last of his burger and grin in Derek’s direction before Derek goes up to the counter to order with the rest of the guys. Stiles does his best to act like he’s not watching Derek. Or the group of girls that flock up to the three of them as soon as they’re in line.

So far he’s having a good night. He’s not going to ruin it by obsessing about what Lydia or Jackson said. Erica gets up to go to the bathroom so when the others return, Derek slides straight into the empty space next to Stiles.

“Hey,” he says, half in his ear, placing a hand much higher on Stiles’ thigh than present company might appreciate. Or expect. It's a good thing they're half hidden under the long table.

“Good game,” Stiles shoots back, trying not to seem breathless.

Derek grins at him, happy and pleased and Stiles is doing his best not to climb him right now.

Soon enough their number is being called, but Derek leaves it to Boyd and Isaac to collect their food, and doesn’t take his hand off Stiles’ thigh.

Stiles is trying not to pop an excited boner in the restaurant, but it’s difficult when he’s being given a very strong indication of a possible future of orgasms on the horizon. Derek seems really interested in making that happen. Stiles is all aboard for that plan.

But he waits until Derek, Isaac and Boyd have finished eating, carrying on the conversation without them as Lydia discusses a possible party at the dorms that she and Allison were invited to. Stiles isn’t really in the mood for it, not when he could just as easily take Derek home to his dorm room and fuck him there. Have their own kind of party.

Derek’s giving him some pretty positive signals already. So, when they’re finished and walk outside, discussing who’s coming along, Stiles doesn’t jump in to join them and casually watches Derek, waiting for his response. When he intentionally hangs back, Stiles feels a flood of hope.

“I’m just gonna crash,” he says offhandedly. “I’m beat.”

Stiles groans when Lydia turns her gaze on him. “I promised not to murder my liver until next weekend for the Sigma Alpha drunk as a skunk night.”

“Loser,” Erica says, but with a grin that’s more affectionate than harsh.

Scott gives him an in-the-know kind of look, glancing subtly at Derek and Stiles pretends not to see it. When the group takes off towards the opposite side of the dorms, Stiles waves them away, heart pumping with anticipation when Derek doubles back with him without a word.

“Did you have fun tonight?” Derek wonders, as Stiles leads them up to the third level where his room is.

He nods, swallowing heavily, and can’t figure out why he can barely get the words out all of a sudden. But that could have more to do with the way Derek’s presses his face into the back of Stiles’ neck once they’ve reached his door and opens his mouth against his skin.

Stiles shivers and drags Derek inside, thanking the gods that his roommate is such a partier and probably won’t be seen until the early hours of morning. Derek pulls away once they’re inside and the lack of heat between them is a sudden, unexpected disappointment.

Especially when Derek heads straight for Stiles’ bed and drops onto the mattress, dragging his laptop out from under the pillow and fiddling with it. When Stiles kicks his shoes off and joins him on the bed, Derek’s already opened up the browser for Netflix. It’s signed in so Derek browses through action and decides on 13 Assassins. Stiles drops down onto his pillows and scoots over to give Derek enough room leaning against the wall.

He tries not to notice that Derek put the laptop between them. Does he not want to do anything? Then what was with all the looks today, and the hand on his thigh at dinner?

When it gets to the multiple sword fighting scene, Stiles mutters. “I could do that.”

Derek laughs loudly at the thought and Stiles is offended.

“Oh yeah?” he wonders innocently, closing the laptop and leaning over Stiles to put it on the floor.

Expectation curls in Stiles’ gut. “Yeah.”

They dive for each other at the same time, laughing and struggling to come out on top. They end up wrestling on Stiles’ bed for a few minutes before Derek climbs up onto his lap, pinning Stiles’ hands to the wall behind them. They’re snickering and gasping with effort before the energy changes and Stiles can see Derek’s pupils dilate when he slowly starts to rock his hips.

And then it’s exactly what he thought was going to happen.

Stiles moans and jerks upward, seeking the friction, trying to prolong it as much as possible.

“I want you to fuck me again,” Derek whispers into his jawline and Stiles loses his train of thought altogether.

“What?”

“I want you to,” Derek repeats. “And this time I want to remember all of it.”

Stiles shudders and tries to start wiggling out of his clothing. Derek helps speed up the process. Stiles struggles to reach the drawer when Derek works on unbuttoning his jeans. “Fuck,” he groans, straining to catch at the handle. “Lube’s in- in the-“

Derek yanks Stiles’ jeans down, all the way to his knees and Stiles hisses in surprise, squirming to help him with the last of it. His socks get caught on the hems so when Derek finally drags them off, the socks go off with them.

Stiles is already yanking his sweatshirt off when Derek leans back to tug off his blue hoodie. It takes Stiles a second to realise that Derek’s not wearing a shirt underneath it and he makes an approving noise.

Derek manages to reach over and get a hold of the drawer handle himself, pulling it open and rummaging around for Stiles’ lube. When he moves back, hovering over him, he waves the half empty bottle at him.

“Been having some fun?” he wonders slyly.

Stiles is already worming his hand beneath the waistband of his briefs to grip his cock and start stroking. “Don’t I always?”

Derek uncaps the lid and slicks up a generous amount on his hand before pushing Stiles’ hand aside and wrapping a hand around his dick. “Oh yes,” Stiles’ sighs, hips jerking up leisurely into Derek’s fist. “But don’t you want-?”

“You always last longer after you’ve come the first time,” Derek says simply, as if that’s common knowledge.

Stiles struggles to drag Derek closer so he can work his hands into Derek’s sweatpants as well. He loses the object of his attention when Derek’s grip tightens on him and he drags his hand along his dick in a particularly solid stroke.

“Oh,” he gasps, finally getting Derek’s sweatpants past the swell of his ass, palming the bulge in his briefs.

Derek’s grip falters for a second and Stiles pushes the advantage, dragging his underwear off and exposing him completely. Derek’s pants and underwear are pooling around his knees and that would normally make a person look like a bit of a dishevelled dumbass, but it’s Derek and his muscled thighs flex as his cock curves upwards, already leaking at the tip. He shifts a little, kicking off his pants and briefs completely, loosening his grip on Stiles’ cock for a moment before he returns.

Stiles leans up to kiss him and Derek edges between his spread legs, wrapping his hand around Stiles’ dick again, pushing his palm underneath Stiles’ balls to cradle them. He’s so desperate he bites at Derek’s lip, his chin, frantically pushes his dick into Derek’s hand as he leans in and gets a hand around Derek's cock.

Stiles grips him distractedly, just holds him tight in his hand as he palms the bed for the lube, locating it beneath the sheets. Then he lets go and pushes Derek back for a moment so he’s forced to drop Stiles’ dick, while he pats at his thighs and encourages him to climb on top.

Stiles only just pushes his legs together on the bed when Derek walks forward on his knees, on either side of them. He’s in the middle of coating his fingers with lube when Derek stays kneeling, dick in the perfect position for Stiles to have some fun.

He grins up a Derek briefly before leaning forward and taking his cock into his mouth. Derek cries out, anchoring a hand on Stiles’ shoulder and shakily rocking forward like he can’t help it. Stiles opens his throat and takes him in further, nudging his slick fingers between Derek’s ass cheeks, feeling the way he shudders at the first touch to his hole.

When he sinks a finger inside, Derek pushes deeper into his mouth with a groan, as if he’s been injured. Stiles frowns and lets Derek’s dick slide out of his mouth.

“Is- are you okay?”

Derek nods quickly. “Yeah. Just- more intense than I remembered.”

Stiles lets out a strangled noise, amazed that Derek’s talking about this. “I don’t remember much. Was- was it good?”

Derek rocks down on his finger slowly, adjusting to the feeling of it. “Oh, oh fuck. Yeah. Yeah it was good. Haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

Stiles shudders at the open honesty of it and adds another finger, dick forgotten as he tries to get ready. But Derek finally sinks down onto Stiles’ legs, Stiles’ fingers moving along with him, and he gets a hold of Stiles’ cock again. And Stiles is really not going to last.

He comes quickly, Derek milking it out of him smoothly like he knows exactly what he’s doing as Stiles tries to move his fingers in Derek’s ass. He locks up and comes all over Derek’s fist and his own stomach, doesn’t go soft straight away because Derek’s right, he does last longer after the first orgasm.

He remembers his fingers are still in Derek’s ass when his brain reboots, and Derek seems used to the extra stretch of two now so he starts trying to separate his fingers, getting him prepared to take his dick again.

“I think- I’m ready,” Derek pants, crowding closer so Stiles’ fingers slip out of his ass.

He certainly looks like it too when he gets resettled. When he eases himself on top of Stiles, and grips the base of his dick, Stiles stops breathing and clumsily helps him line up. This is happening. He can’t believe how long he’s waited for this.

Stiles lick his lips, wonders how he’s meant to survive a second time around, where he can actually remember every detail, and stops thinking at all when the tip of his dick presses up against Derek’s hole.

Derek bites his lip and bears down on him, dropping slowly onto Stiles’ cock while his mouth falls open at the constricting heat, and his body trembles at the sensation. When Derek’s ass finally meets Stiles’ thighs, they’re both struck dumb for a second, adjusting to the feel of each other, completely overwhelmed.

“Oh God,” Stiles says, tongue heavy, thoughts heavy, pretty much weighed down by the intensity of his arousal.

“Yeah,” Derek grits out slowly like he can’t believe it himself. “Oh, oh Stiles.”

He shivers at the need in Derek’s voice and fumbles to grip at Derek’s hips, feeling as if he’s about to float away without something to secure him. Derek in his lap, sitting on his dick is actually a pretty big anchor.

Stiles can’t seem to get his thoughts in order. Then Derek carefully starts to rock his hips and Stiles is pretty sure he’s not long for this world. It's so good, the tight heat, the slow rhythm Derek's started, the press of their bodies together. Derek squeezes his arms, sliding up to rest on his shoulders, and gripping there as if signalling finally for Stiles to move.

“Derek,” he pants, thrusting up into the wonderful heat of him. “I think I’m dying.”

He laughs and leans in to kiss again as he drops down on Stiles’ cock in a steady roll. “But- ahh- in a good way, right?”

“Yesssss,” he moans, seizing onto Derek’s thighs, stroking his hot skin. “Such a good way. No regrets.”

“Fuck,” Derek cries out, tensing over Stiles and stopping as some unnameable reaction shudders through him.

“What?” Stiles pants desperately. “What is it?”

Very slowly, Derek lifts himself up a little. “Do that again,” he demands, dropping down onto his cock and Stiles tries to angle his dick in the same way. “Yes, fuck, right there. That’s- so good.”

“I’m gonna come,” Stiles babbles. “I’m gonna come, Derek.”

Derek moves his hips faster, fucking himself harder on Stiles’ dick, really giving him a ride. Stiles’ groans, balls tightening as Derek’s ass clenches on his cock, and then he’s coming, spurting inside him.

Derek hums and braces his hands on Stiles’ shoulder, rocking on him more smoothly with the help of all the come inside him.

“You gonna go soft?” he asks, still working himself hard on Stiles’ dick. “Too sensitive?”

Stiles whines in response, scrabbling to get a hold of Derek’s ass to encourage him to keep going. “Want you to come.”

He leans in and bites at Derek’s throat, sucking a hickey there and Derek finally starts to shudder again, undulating frantically in Stiles’ lap before his orgasm overwhelms him.

He sprays a bit on Stiles’ chest but all he can do is groan softly at the sensation of Derek’s ass holding his dick in a vice he’s tightened up so much, before his breaths even out and he starts to settle down.

Derek drops onto his chest, smooshing Stiles into the pillows and he lets himself be tipped back with a tired laugh. He scoops up Stiles’ sweatshirt and uses it to clean them up as best as he can. Stiles is too fucked out to even complain about how crusty his shirt will be tomorrow.

Not when Derek is relaxing happily on his chest, pressing his face into Stiles’ cheek.

“Now I’m beat,” he admits with a carefree laugh that has Stiles’ heart soaring.

Stiles doubts he could be more into Derek Hale than he is at this very moment. Not even if he tried.