“Alright so maybe another one of your girlfriends turned out to be a psychopathic killer. Don’t have a coronary about it.”
Derek turns to look at him with the single most chilling stare that Stiles has ever had unleashed upon him before. Maybe the comment was too soon, when the corpse of Derek’s previous ex-girlfriend is currently lying at the pack’s feet, with her throat freshly slashed courtesy of an overly enthusiastic Jackson.
But Stiles’ mouth has always gotten him into trouble. No point pretending. Or trying to deny the absence of a brain to mouth filter.
Like now, for instance.
“See this is why I keep telling you, that you should date me,” Stiles says with an unsettled laugh, knowing full well that Derek’s probably considering breaking all of his limbs right now.
Derek exceeds his expectations beautifully, staring into his eyes with the kind of look like he’s mentally calculating the importance of Stiles in general, what he specifically brings to the pack and whether he can be removed from it indefinitely. Which clearly isn’t happening. Stiles is an asset thank you very much.
“Told you I didn’t like her,” Jackson points out unnecessarily, because he’s probably got a mouth almost as big as Stiles does.
He seems very unconcerned for a person currently flicking blood off his claws. Stiles doesn’t even remember when the pack got so vicious. Maybe it was after the third witch they came across immediately seduced Derek and used her magic to try and get him to kill them all. That was a real turning point.
“We all didn’t like her,” Erica adds. “But we we’re going along with it because Derek’s track record is so shitty.”
Derek glances up from the corpse at their feet as if he's only distantly listening to the conversation. “Thanks,” he says humourlessly.
“Alright,” Allison says, clapping her hands together succinctly before awkwardly attempting to lay a hand on Derek’s shoulder and then thinking better of it. “Who’s getting rid of the body?”
The collective groans are probably a little insensitive, definitely sacrilegious, but Derek’s already turning away and heading for the exit of the abandoned factory they’re currently gathered in. “Hey,” Stiles protests, jogging after him almost automatically. “Where are you going? This was your girlfriend who planned on sacrificing us to her demon friend, using you as an alpha channel for power. You’re on clean up duty.”
Derek just gives him this tired look. “I’m going home,” he mutters. “And I’m crawling into bed.”
Is that an invitation? Stiles thinks automatically before he remembers, yes that is the corpse of Derek’s ex-girlfriend lying a few feet away and his timing could probably use some work. Could definitely use some work. “Fine, but you'd better be at the pack meeting tomorrow.”
Derek doesn’t even look at him. “Stiles, the meetings are always at my apartment.”
“Well then no excuses, dude,” he says, wagging a finger at him and gracelessly trying to cover the urge to wrap Derek up in a tight hug. He probably wouldn’t appreciate that given the circumstances.
Derek jerks his head down, which Stiles translates as a yes before he’s stepping out of the factory, hunching his shoulders and sticking his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket to walk off into the lonely night.
He looks kind of pathetic actually and Stiles really wishes he’d risked his life to go in for that quick hug, however brief it might have been. Maybe it could have helped a little. But then the sky kind of rumbles and opens up in a sudden downpour that immediately drenches Derek from head to toe on the solitary walk back to his apartment, and Stiles is seriously starting to consider the fact that Derek Hale is cursed.
“Holy shit, Stiles,” Scott calls frantically. “Get over here.”
He stops watching Derek’s retreating back, and his sad walk in the rain and hurries back over to the rest of the pack where they’re surrounding the aforementioned Lola, who smiled too toothily for Stiles’ liking and always seemed to put her hands possessively on Derek’s chest whenever he was in the general vicinity.
The now dead Lola, who it turns out is crumbling like a clay sculpture right before their very eyes. Stiles’ mouth falls open and stays that way as they crowd around and watch until her form has literally disintergrated into unidentifiable pieces.
“Well at least she’s considerate,” Stiles offers to the group at large afterwards. “Can’t say I’ve seen a self-disposing corpse before but I appreciate the effort.”
Boyd glances over to the empty doorway Derek just walked out of, then back to Lola’s pieces. “Anybody have a dustpan?”
The next day, when Stiles drives over to the pack meeting at Derek’s apartment, he uses his key to let himself in and parks himself on the couch until Derek gets home.
Although he’s got a lot of money to his name, hidden in secret vaults and other dubious places that suggest he could very well live a life of leisure forever, Derek actually happens to have a job. One that he refused to tell the rest of the pack the nature or whereabouts of. Stiles totally followed him once though, and figured out he works in an old bookstore on the edge of town.
When his shift ended and he came out smiling to himself, Stiles felt bad about the aforementioned stalking and refused to divulge this information to the rest of the pack, though both Scott and Erica had asked.
Derek usually brings dinner for the pack meetings on his way home from work, so Stiles is keen for a good feed and ready to gauge the emotional state of their alpha who has lost five girlfriends to evil now. Or more accurately, discovered five girlfriends had already belonged to evil in the first place and were out to get him and his pack from the get go. Stiles wonders not for the first time if they should be staging an intervention, or if Derek is just really in some kind of denial bubble about the level of demonic, murderous urges his exes possessed.
Isaac and Boyd arrive together and Lydia and Allison pull up in the same car, Erica surprisingly climbing out of the back. Scott is at the clinic still but he’ll pick Danny up on the way here once he’s finished and Jackson always operates on his own timing system which Stiles firmly insists was implemented because of his Porsche and the fact that he believes everyone should be waiting on him always .
Most of the group arrives in a timely fashion, except Jackson, and Derek is taking longer than usual when the others sprawl out on his couch and get comfortable around the TV. Stiles vaguely worries that something might be wrong, but he’s also thinking Derek’s probably in a relationship funk at the moment and definitely feeling emotionally downtrodden. Which would not be entirely unexpected given the recent situation.
Once they've been waiting twenty minutes, the werewolves in the room get up suddenly and head on over to the large table they usually sit at to eat dinner and discuss pack problems. Which means Derek is within hearing distance. Stiles is thinking he should get the others to try and say something supportive, to make him feel better about attracting evil harpies for girlfriends but he’s pretty sure the rest of the pack will bungle it.
Boyd can be subtle but he prefers to stay out of people’s business and Lydia can pull it off without batting an eyelid, but she’s unreliable, and also prone to going rogue in order to say whatever she wants, no matter how brutal. Scott has no tact, Erica relishes teasing Derek and Isaac is generally bad with feelings. Danny never wants to be involved in drama and Jackson isn’t really a pep talk kind of guy. Which basically just leaves it up to Stiles to make the attempt.
When Derek finally comes through the door, carrying six boxes of pizza, Stiles starts considering the best angle of attack for this. But it’s not looking good. Derek hardly appreciates his observations about life on an average day. “Okay,” Stiles starts, once Derek sets the boxes down on the table, because someone has to say something and he’s the most experienced with running his mouth.
But he trails off when Derek unfolds the receipt in his hands and there’s a very distinct phone number and a girl’s name written below it in black sharpie marker.
“What’s this?” he demands, snatching it out of Derek’s hands. And it’s a testament to how bummed he must be about the Lola thing that Derek’s reflexes don’t even thwart Stiles from grabbing it.
“Who is Brenda?” Erica wonders, reading the name over Stiles’ shoulder before she reaches in and snags an entire pizza box to herself.
“You’re kidding,” Scott says, mouth half open in shock and indignation. “Derek, you can’t be serious.”
Derek shrugs somewhat defensively. “What? She seemed nice.”
Is he forgetting the fact that Isaac swept up Lola’s dust form only yesterday when she tried to murder them all? “Oh no,” Stiles says, frenziedly tearing up the receipt in his hands. “That’s it man, you’re cut off.”
Derek raises an eyebrow at him, amused, but very close to the brink of irritation. Stiles always seems to be the one bringing that out of him. And never ceases to avoid tipping him over the edge.
“Cut off?” he echoes, not understanding. “From what?”
“Women,” Lydia says. “Dating. Stiles is saying you’re cut off from dating.”
Derek smirks a little and tries to laugh, but nobody is joining him on that. Stiles finally sees that he has an army of fed-up pack members backing him, and seizes his chance. “For a whole year,” he says. “No dating. You have to seriously reconsider the type of people you associate with romantically.”
Derek’s not finding it so funny now. “You can’t dictate my dating life, Stiles.”
But Stiles turns away from him and addresses the pack at large. “All in favour of Derek not dating for a full year so he can get his shit together and stop romancing people who want to kill us?”
Everyone raises their hands. Every single pack member. Stiles folds his arms in triumph and tries not to look too smug when he turns back to face Derek. Who seems vaguely stunned now. “You all really think I shouldn’t date for a full year?”
They shift a little awkwardly under his gaze but nobody backs down from it. “You’ve got to admit that you’ve had a very bad track record,” Allison says.
“Which nobody blames you for,” Isaac insists quickly. “It’s just- maybe you should take some time to reassess.”
“Yeah, reassess you’re dating choices,” Erica mutters under her breath, though the room at large can hear her very clearly.
“Fine,” Derek says, losing the edge of anger in his voice and seeming unusually calm about the situation. “I won’t date for a year. But Stiles has to stop oversharing.”
Which, what’s this now? This is not a pick and choose intervention. They were discussing Derek’s problems a second ago.
“What?” Stile cries indignantly. “I do not overshare-“
“That time you fell into that weird pollen and ended up with red boils all over your ass,” Jackson drawls, with an unimpressed look. “And described it for two weeks afterwards.”
“When you kept having that recurring sex dream about Isaac and scarves,” Allison says. “And talked about it in vivid detail.”
Isaac shudders a little and Stiles opens his mouth to protest. “When you had sex for the first time and literally went around telling everyone for days that you weren’t a virgin anymore,” Danny reminds him. "You told my mom, Stiles. She's still not over it."
“When those witches tried to sacrifice Derek and you said they couldn’t because you hadn’t seen him naked yet and it was one of your last goals on this earth.”
Stiles’ cheeks are red. “I was distracting those witches,” he argues, before turning an accusing look on Derek. “One of which, Derek was dating at the time.”
Derek folds his arm defiantly. “She never actually said that she was a witch-“
“Oh enough,” Lydia interrupts. “It’s settled. Derek won’t date for a year and Stiles won’t overshare for a year. Everyone happy with that?”
The pack nods enthusiastically and Stiles shoots Derek a dirty look for throwing him under the bus too. Stiles hasn’t dated anyone who’s tried to sacrifice them to their shady cult leader. Why is he being punished?
“Fine,” he agrees eventually. “But you’ll be missing out on some amazing stories, I can guarantee. No shared memories for you.”
“We can live with that,” Danny says, not in the least concerned.
“Alright, well mark the day,” Scott interjects. “November 1st. Derek and Stiles will hereby refrain from dating and oversharing until November 1st 2018.”
Stiles snags a slice of pizza. “I’m not signing a contract,” he mutters before taking a generous bite. Derek shrugs and reaches over him for a slice as well, apparently not all that heartbroken about the proceedings. Lola really must have been the final blow.
It doesn’t seem like such a big deal at the time. If anything, they’re helping decrease their chances of sudden death if Derek’s permanently off the market for a year. That should be a good thing.
But it takes a lot less time for Stiles to realize just how badly his big mouth has gotten him into trouble.
For the next two months nothing in particular goes wrong, besides Stiles’ dad needing to write out a slew of speeding fines to residents of Beacon Hills, Jackson included.
He bitches about it for the entire two months, though Stiles knows for a fact that Jackson actually paid the fine like a model citizen and wasn’t actually that rude to his dad about it. Since Derek is single they also don’t have to worry about another potential girlfriend betrayal, and it turns out that Stiles is actually enjoying this single lady version of Derek. Because he’s not out on dates or anything, and Stiles is pretty much the only one who’s single right now and currently doesn’t have someone interested in him.
They might snark a little, well a lot. But Derek actually isn’t all that bad to hang out with. Since the rest of the pack is so busy doing their own things, Stiles has been more than happy to darken Derek’s doorstep. Except, Derek’s single status seems to have mellowed him out some in his toleration of Stiles’ everything because he’s been letting him through the door every time.
Even if Stiles had his own set of keys made. He’s got keys to everyone’s houses, he likes to be prepared. They’ve actually been marathoning Mystery Science Theatre 3000, and half of Derek’s comments about the shitty old fashioned movies are way funnier than what Joel, Tom Servo, Crow or Gypsy can come up with.
More than once Stiles ends up laughing so much there’s tears in his eyes, clutching at his chest, or Derek’s arm because he’s about to fall over without it. He wonders if he should feel bad that he and Derek are suddenly bonding now because Derek’s not allowed to date anyone else, and Stiles feels like there’s something worrying about that but he can’t quite put his finger on it.
He falls asleep on Derek’s couch more than once. On Derek’s shoulder. They’re pretty committed to seeing these twelve seasons through. Stiles comes straight over after he’s finished work and Derek is back from the bookstore and they usually coordinate who buys dinner, sometimes running into each other when both of their cars pull into Derek’s complex at the same time.
It’s a weirdly beautiful friendship. Derek is surprisingly not as much a grouch as the years have hinted him to be. He seems settled and relaxed, almost happy with his pack and his job and his friends. He even smiles unironically now. And Stiles is loving it.
All Derek needs to do now is sort out his dating life and then he’ll be set. It’s a good thing he’s got so much time to work on it. Stiles doesn’t want to declare that he’s a hero for suggesting the no-dating rule for Derek, but the lack of murdering girlfriends speak for themselves.
He’s obviously done the community a great service.
“You better not be dating,” Lydia warns, after another pack meeting night when Stiles is waving the rest of the guys to their cars.
He and Derek are on the third season of Mystery Science Theatre 3000, and Derek suggested that he stay behind so they can watch a few more episodes when the others are gone.
"What?” Stiles splutters, offended and instantly flushed at the thought. “We’re not- Derek’s not into me. Have you seen the kind of women he dates?”
Lydia looks at him patiently as if she’s waiting for his brain to catch up. “That doesn’t mean he hasn’t dated men before.”
Stiles laughs then, long and loud and maybe a little hysterically at the thought. Derek doesn’t date dudes, he dates frightening women who always seem intent on destroying him and the pack. A major character flaw in Stiles’ opinion.
“They’re not dating,” Erica puts in, standing at Allison’s side and watching her intently. Erica seems to do that a lot actually, even after they moved on from their weird hunter/werewolf rivalry. “Stilinski just smells like his own hand.”
“Aha!” Stiles shouts, pointing at her with victory in his eyes. “Erica’s the one who overshared that time, not me.”
Allison smiles graciously. “And we’re proud of you, Stiles. Keep it up for the next year or so.”
Erica laughs and climbs into the back of Allison’s car only a little too eagerly. Stiles actually thinks there might be something going on with that. She’s always been a little too interested in anything Allison is doing, no matter what the situation.
Probably about as much as Stiles likes to pay attention to Derek. How many people in the pack have not-so-secret crushes on each other?
Though to be fair, Stiles’ feelings for Derek are the firmly rooted type that aren’t going anywhere, no matter how many murderous girlfriends Derek dates, or the number of wayward folks he brings home, or the dad-level of responsibility and effort Derek puts into being a good alpha for the rest of the pack.
Stiles is permanently invested in the struggle of ensuring Derek’s happiness.
But that doesn’t mean that they’re dating.
“And then,” Stiles says, relaying the entire conversation back to Derek later that evening on his couch, while Mystery Science Theatre 3000 is ripping on a movie called Time of the Apes in the background. “Erica said we couldn’t possibly be dating because… well then she overshared some personal details about me that I won’t address at this time.”
Derek gets the gist of it anyway. “Because you only smell like yourself.”
Does everyone have to know this information? Werewolves are much too nosy for their own good. Stiles nods with as much dignity as he can. “Well I might have more to say on that subject, but I wouldn’t want to overshare.”
That seems to make Derek smirk. “Glad you think so.”
Stiles gets up to grab a glass of water, with a loving swat at Derek’s head before he makes his escape, and gets sidetracked by the paper bag Derek set on the counter when he came in with take-out for the pack at the meeting, and never actually put away.
“What’s this?” Stiles says, curiously poking through the bag to see what Derek’s been buying.
He’s not expecting the large bottle of lube that’s for sure. Derek turns back and flushes a little when Stiles drags the lube out with a grin and brings it back to the couch. “Put that down,” he mutters, looking irritated. “Jesus, you make yourself comfortable in people’s apartments, don’t you?”
Weirdly, he feels like he’s being lectured on manners for a second before he releases that Derek is reclining easily on the couch, not in the least concerned that Stiles is handling his lube. “Always,” Stiles replies breezily. “So, Derek, what’s it for? Got a secret evil girlfriend on call to try and tear our insides out?”
Derek scowls and snatches the lube out of Stiles’ hands. “For your information, the lube is for me since I’ve been barred from dating for an entire year thanks to your big mouth.”
“Hey,” Stiles protests. “If anything, it’s because your exes were a long line of psychopathic murdering harpies, not because I happened to be the one to point that out.”
“Gee, thanks for clarifying Stiles, I feel so much better,” Derek says sarcastically.
Stiles glances at the bottle still in Derek’s hand and then down at Derek’s crotch which also holds great mystery to him. “So, you’re gonna give it a go with ol’ lefty? Or righty?”
Derek gives him a sharp look and Stiles throws his hands up. “And that’s not oversharing! That’s me asking a sexually invasive question. I just want you to be happy touching yourself obviously. I have you best interests at heart.”
“Clearly,” he retorts, but Stiles’ words don’t do much to improve Derek’s expression though. “Among other things.”
Stiles doesn’t catch up right away. “Other-?”
Derek gives him a pointed look and raises his eyebrow. “Oh my god,” he squeaks. “Penetration? Uh- I mean, you like playing with your ass?”
Heat burns through his chest and Stiles’ dick is already stirring at the thought. Derek likes ass play. Does that mean-?
“Lydia wasn’t wrong,” Derek says with a shrug of his shoulders. “I’ve dated guys too.”
Stiles lets out an impossible groan and does his best not to make it look like he needs to adjust himself. “Are you- do you like- what if-?“
“Let’s just watch Time of the Apes,” Derek says firmly, putting an end to the conversation. “You look like your head is gonna explode.”
“Well that was a pretty life affirming bombshell you just dropped on me,” Stiles mutters but he turns back to face the TV anyway.
“Noted,” Derek replies, and Stiles wonders if he can smell Stiles’ arousal in the air.
Derek plays with his butt sometimes. And he’s dated guys. Which means he might have dated Stiles if he hadn’t banned him from relationships for an entire year. He could kick himself.
They barely watch for another twenty minutes and during that time Stiles cannot stop jiggling his leg, mind moving too fast with all this new information to consider watching what’s on the TV. Derek loses patience with it eventually and puts his hand down onto Stiles’ thigh to still him, only Stiles shifts at the exact wrong time and Derek’s hand ends up in a much more private area.
Stiles gasps in a breathy way and turns to Derek with wide eyes, watching the surprise on his face, then the way his pupils dilate with interest when Stiles doesn’t make any effort to remove his hand. Derek doesn't pull away either.
And Stiles takes that to mean exactly what he thinks it does and pounces.
When his common sense comes back to him, the lube has been put to good use and Stiles has Derek bent over the back of the couch, frantically pounding into his ass. “Oh God, I’m gonna come,” he whines, rhythm making Derek groan and clutch at Stiles’ hip encouragingly as he pushes his ass back for more. “Derek I’m gonna-“
“Not yet,” he cries, arms flexing from where he’s gripping the couch head. “Oh fuck, not yet please.”
Stiles cries out and tries to frantically think of gross boner killing things, but Derek’s wrapped so perfectly around him and he’s so warm and tight, Stiles is pretty sure he’s having a heart attack.
Derek reaches under himself as if he has plans to stroke himself into an orgasm but Stiles beats him to it, wrapping a hand tight around his dick first. “Yes, yes,” he gasps, moving into Stiles’ hand and rocking back onto his cock. “Yes, Stiles.”
He starts to come a second later and Stiles loves that he’s so greedy for it. He wonders how long it’s been since someone fucked him in the ass, and he’s impossibly glad for his long fingers, and how pretty Derek had looked riding them before they worked their way up to this. Stiles moans at the way Derek’s body clenches around him like it’s trying to extract his orgasm out of his dick and he’s helpless to fight the sensation.
He comes straight after, collapsing against Derek’s back with a happy sigh, loving how Derek’s sweaty body trembles with pleasure under him. He’s so sweet like this, so different to everything Stiles had imagined. Especially when Derek leans back into him, like he’s craving the heat and protection of a body curled over his back. Like he trusts Stiles to be the one to do that.
“I love you,” Stiles pants helplessly in his ear. “Oh God, I looove-“
Derek tightens up all over, stiffening at the words and the moment crumbles beneath Stiles’ hands a second later.
The reality of what he just said comes crashing down. Stiles pulls out carefully, and Derek seems to hear his heart and smell the fear because he doesn’t quite turn back to meet his eyes. He seems tense and rigid which Stiles might think was the opposite effect for someone who just had a good roll around. Then Derek shifts, glancing over his shoulder to stare at Stiles and he’s floored by the vulnerable look there.
Oh God, what just happened?
“Okay,” he parses out carefully, whilst trying to tuck his dick back into his pants. “Let’s not jump to any conclusions-”
Derek turns around to face him properly and tugs his pants back up, indifferent about the mess that must be leaking out of him. He’s more focused on staring at Stiles, his expression wide and open.
“You just said you love me.”
Stiles tries not to wince. Can’t exactly put that cat back in the bag, can he? “I mean, yeah I blurted it out, sure. But I’m not the first person to make a declaration like that during sex.”
Stiles blinks at him. “What?”
“You said you loved me after we’d had sex.”
Stiles laughs uncomfortably and avoids looking at him. “I mean, same difference, right?”
He might not be catching Derek’s eye at the moment but he can feel that Derek still hasn’t looked away from him. “Not really,” he says quietly. “Usually people are lying.”
And this is really not looking good. “So was I!”
“No, you weren’t. I could hear your heartbeat.”
So the cat is way out of the bag then. Uh oh.
“If I left right now,” Stiles parses out warily. “How are my chances looking that you’ll just forget this and it’ll soon be a funny story we laugh about in the future?”
Derek’s expression doesn’t waver. “Very slim.”
“I mean, it’s not that you’re not amazing,” Stiles rushes. “And crazy smart, and funny and happy to call me out on my bullshit when no one else will. And you’ve totally got that hero complex like Scott only you’re practical about it and willing to break a few arms if necessary which makes us such a great team, you have no idea. And I mean, you’re one of the few people who seems to genuinely enjoying hanging around me without trying to ditch me first chance you get- so uh, yeah.”
Stiles trails off awkwardly and realizes that Derek just let him ramble. Which admittedly is nice of him, but that usually means he’s been given free rein to say stuff that usually embarrasses him in a huge way.
“If you’re trying to convince me you’re not in love with me, you’re going the wrong way about it.”
“Right,” Stiles agrees, flushing from his neck to his cheeks. “Um-“
Derek stands up without another word and starts walking towards the bedroom. Stiles if anything, blushes harder, squirming uncomfortably with the embarrassment of his unexpected ‘I love you’ and the crushing defeat of Derek’s sudden rejection. Except when Stiles doesn’t get up and follow him, Derek pauses in the doorway and looks back at him expectantly.
“Are you coming in or what?”
Stiles thinks about that fragile expression on Derek’s face after he said that he loved him. “I’m gonna cuddle you so hard,” he says seriously, scrambling to his feet. “You can be the little spoon if you want.”
Derek inclines his head, which Stiles takes as a yes before he disappears into the bedroom. Hardly daring to believe his luck after his disastrous attempt at casual sex, Stiles runs in after him. Derek opens his mouth, says nothing and then closes it. He looks confused, but there’s a little bit of softness tugging at his face that tells Stiles whatever he’s doing, he’s doing it right.
So Stiles’ swallows his nerves, takes Derek’s hand and lets himself be led to bed.
Derek, it turns out is a prime cuddler. Even as the little spoon. Stiles sinks into it so easily that he falls asleep with his arms around him, face nuzzled into the back of his neck.
When he opens his eyes again the room is dark, and his dad probably is wondering where he is. He might be a legal adult now but that doesn’t mean that his father isn’t going to worry with Stiles still living under his roof.
He wonders if he should do the cool, suave thing and leave it to Derek to decide if he’ll see Stiles again soon, parting ways with a clever line or a sultry kiss that leaves Derek wanting more or something. But Stiles just opens his big mouth instead. “Wanna do this tomorrow?” he offers unthinkingly. “We can grab dinner, go see a movie. I’ll pay.”
It’s totally a date, that’s what Stiles is offering but Derek nods once he’s got his breathing under control and Stiles’ heart beat malfunctions at the small little smile lifting his mouth.
“Great,” Stiles says, practically fluttering with excitement. “Cause I really want you to take a turn on my ass next time. Never taken a dick before and I definitely want to see what that’s all about. And I'm totally willing to put out after dinner and a movie.”
Derek freezes just as Stiles’ is rolling over to the edge of the mattress and gets up in search of his shoes. Stiles doesn’t realize that Derek is having an issue until he glances back up and catches sight of his face.
“You just asked me out,” Derek says quietly. “On a date.”
Suddenly Stiles remembers the deal they made. The one year no-dating rule- but Derek couldn’t possibly be planning on listening to the pack over this? Not after the sheer life-altering sex that's just happened. Stiles is the one who suggested the no-dating rule in the first place. Obviously, he cares nothing about that now.
“You’re the one who said yes,” Stiles grumbles, a little shocked and troubled.
“And you overshared,” Derek says, eyes widening.
Stiles finally gets it. “We broke the pack agreement,” he says, horrified. “It’s barely even been two months.”
“It’s fine,” Derek says quickly. “We can get the smell out of the room, and I’ve got body wash that removes scents. No one will be able to tell we had sex.”
“Pretty sure they’ll be able to tell that I want to do it again,” Stiles mutters a little wildly, thinking of all the shit he’ll cop from the pack for this.
He’s the one who insisted Derek not date for a year. The hypocrisy of it will have the pack amused for the rest of the year at the very least. But Derek only waves that possibility off. “You always smell like arousal around me.”
Oh great. Stiles did not need to know that. “Alright, okay. Then we just forget everything and pretend it never happened.”
Derek actually starts to frown then. “Is that what you really want?” he checks. “Because- and I can’t believe I’m saying this- but I’ve been having a lot of fun spending time with you lately.”
Stiles definitely feels like the world tipped over. “You actually want to date me?”
“But I’ve made so many insinuations. I’ve hit on you constantly for like years, dude.”
He seems surprised by that. “You mean all those jokes?” he asks, frowning. “I didn’t think you were serious.”
Jeez, no wonder his attempts at getting Derek to consider him as a dateable alternative never went anywhere. Derek never even thought that he was a contender in the first place.
“Yeah, surprisingly not jokes.”
Derek looks like he’s enjoying a whirlpool of complicated emotions. “But you kept laughing every time you suggested something. I thought you were making fun of me.”
Admittedly, Stiles could have tried better than that, but it’s not like Derek was giving him any encouraging signals. “I was unsure, because you kept giving me hope but every time you’d avoid answering the question! You never really said no so I just-“
“Kept trying,” Derek says faintly. “Oh.”
See the thing is though, normally Stiles doesn’t give a crap about what comes out of his mouth. He doesn’t particularly hold back as much as he should. So it’s not surprising Derek didn’t think there were some facts he was keeping to himself. Like say the fact that if Derek asked he would date him so hard that he wouldn’t know what to do with all of the excess happiness and domestic bliss.
That’s just the type of guy Stiles is.
“Yeah, oh,” he says, feeling a heavy weight in his throat. “Um- yeah, totally serious. Couldn’t have been more serious even if I didn’t get the sentiment out right. I guess- you make me nervous.”
Derek raises an eyebrow.
“I mean, I know at first you thought it was fear, and maybe I did too for a while, but it just turns out you scare me for a whole different kind of reason.”
Derek rolls out of bed and advances on him and Stiles’ heart starts to pound. His expression softens then, a strange kind of look overtaking his face as he finally understands the real reason Stiles’ heart is beating so fast. Always seems to be beating so fast around him.
He reaches up then, slowly, testing, as he drags his fingers along Stiles’ face, not stopping until he’s cradling his jaw. Derek watches carefully, waiting for something, for Stiles to pull away, for him to speak, but for once he has nothing to say. Which is a good thing, because Derek leans in and kisses him on the mouth next. Stiles inhales sharply, mouth opening as his hands come around Derek, descending onto his shoulders.
They get lost in the kiss for a while, the sensation of touch, the comfort of closeness that doesn’t necessarily lead to sex. Derek pulls away first, but that’s because he seems to sense that Stiles is about to pass out. He pants for a few seconds to get his breath back but doesn’t let go of his hold on Derek.
“You know I like you,” Derek says after a moment, blunt and always so sincere. “The rest of the pack doesn’t get away with half as much shit as you do. I just enjoy- being around you. You weren’t picking up on nothing.”
“So… what does that mean?”
Derek slides a thumb against the exposed skin of Stiles’ hip, gripping him firmly enough that Stiles’ dick twitches. “It means we should date.”
Stiles can’t believe that this is happening. “And since you’re already in the pack there’s the added bonus of you not being interested in killing the others. Or me.”
That makes him smile. “Well maybe everyone but Jackson.”
“So, then we just don’t tell them, right?” Derek wonders. “We can cover up the scent. The others still haven’t worked out chemo signals yet so there’s no way they’ll know. And since we’re already hanging out-“
“Perfect cover for actually dating,” Stiles realizes, starting to smile like an idiot. “Oh, fuck- are you serious about this?”
Stiles can’t believe this. Derek’s actually into him. Derek wants to date him. This isn’t another self-destructive thing, is it? “Wait- so you’re actually into me?” Stiles wonders doubtfully. “For real?”
Derek looks at him like he’s an idiot. “No, I’ve just been spending all this time with you and let you bend me over the couch just now because I don’t like you at all.”
“Okay, okay,” Stiles repeats, still uploading all this information to the control centre of his brain. “So, I need you to meet my dad.”
Derek blinks at him. “I have met your dad.”
“No, but like as my guy, you know. I’m fine lying to the pack, but uh- not my dad. Not after everything.”
Derek seems a little startled and maybe a lot nervous. “Oh,” he says faintly. “I should ask his blessing. To date you.”
Stiles laughs at him. “Dude, I’m twenty-two, not a sixteen-year-old asking for your hand in marriage.”
“And I’m twenty-six, Stiles. The age difference is still nothing to laugh about.”
Stiles wants to roll his eyes but he knows Derek’s got his best interests at heart, and his worry about taking advantage actually comes from a very real Kate shaped place. “Okay,” he agrees. “We can ask my dad’s blessing.”
Even after we fucked, he thinks, trying not to let the thought show on his face.
“So let me get this straight,” the Sheriff says, frowning. “You want my permission to date Stiles? Stiles who is way past the age for being a legal adult?”
“Yes,” Derek says firmly. “Stiles wanted you to know the truth, because that’s important to him, and it’s important to me that you’re okay with this.”
Stiles glares at his father pointedly behind Derek’s shoulder, warning him with a look that he'd better be okay with this or there will be hell to pay. He is not unfamiliar with Stiles’ longstanding Derek crush.
“Uh- then you have my blessing,” John says, raising an eyebrow at Stiles expectantly and Stiles relaxes back into his position on the couch with relief.
Derek insisted on having this discussion at their home, though Stiles thinks it would have been better done in public to avoid any unforeseen drama. More witnesses that way. Derek looks surprised for a second, to have the approval so easily before he manages to recover. “You do remember you arrested me before, right?”
“Multiple times,” John says cheerfully. “But we’re way past that now, son. Just come to dinner a few nights a week and we won’t have any problems.”
He nods slowly, still not getting why Stiles’ father isn’t putting up more of a fight, but Derek hasn’t been around to hear the way Stiles talks about him sometimes. Well most of the time. He was never exactly subtle. His father had warmed to the idea of Stiles and Derek long before this.
“I can cook?” Derek says eventually. “Or bring take-out.”
His father’s expression brightens and Stiles, who has been grinning during this whole exchange, suddenly scowls. “Do not encourage his bad eating habits, Derek.”
The Sheriff smiles.
“We’re also keeping this on the down low for now, Dad,” Stiles tells him. “The pack cannot know about it under any circumstances.”
John narrows his eyes at them suspiciously before directing his gaze upon his own son, the obvious culprit.
“You made a bet, didn’t you?”
Stiles refuses to incriminate himself.
Their first date goes extremely well.
Stiles had high hopes, but they've got nothing on what actually happens. They go to the movies together, under the guise of hanging out, intentionally on the one day during the week when the pack always seems to be the most busy so no one else would tag along with them.
They stop for pizza first and Stiles worries that he should feel more awkward about this but he’s not even really that nervous since they’ve already seen each other naked and had sex. Admittedly before their first date, but whatever works.
Derek seems vaguely surprised too as if he was expecting some kind of disaster to befall them as well. Or some kind of demon attack. Maybe it’s growing up in monster infested Beacon Hills thing. Or he really just wasn’t expecting for them to click so well. Either way, Stiles has a great time.
They go and see Thor: Ragnarok, and Derek actually leans over the arm rest to take hold of Stiles’ hand at the beginning of the movie and Stiles grins like an idiot for the rest of it. They end up kissing in the theatre, cause it’s dark and nobody is likely to see them sitting at the back and Stiles has to resist sinking to his knees and unbuttoning Derek’s jeans right then and there to finally get his mouth on him.
He manages to wait though, until they’re on their way home to Stiles’ place- Derek picked him up in the Camaro, and there’s nobody else around since Stiles’ dad is working the late shift.
“You should come up,” Stiles suggests once Derek pulls into the driveway, with as much innuendo as possible.
Derek takes the hint, with a heated look in his eyes that makes Stiles’ inside squirm. He follows Stiles up to his bedroom and barely sits down on the edge of the bed before Stiles sinks in between his splayed thighs and gets situated.
He barely needs to make the suggestion because Derek’s been watching him alertly ever since he got to his knees. “Can I?” he asks, hands sliding up Derek’s thighs and pushing closer towards the bump of his crotch with intention.
Derek looks so hot like this, when he nods and spreads his legs wider to give Stiles the room. “Yes,” he says, quietly.
And Stiles pretty much gives the best blowjob of his life, if the way Derek arches, and comes within a couple minutes, cursing and red faced from the attention to his cock even as he tenderly winds his fingers into Stiles’ hair, tells him anything.
Their second date, they convince the pack that they’re still marathoning Mystery Science Theatre 3000, but Derek really just takes Stiles into his bedroom and rims him for nearly an hour.
Stiles squirms and begs and pleads against the unfamiliar sensation before he ruts off furiously into the mattress and makes a mess of the sheets. Derek slots his dick between the tightness of Stiles’ thighs and fucks between them, bringing himself to orgasm just like that. They do end up watching a few episodes of Mystery Science Theatre afterwards, curled up on the couch half naked in their underwear before Stiles nods off into Derek’s neck with the happy kind of exhaustion following enthusiastic sex.
Derek must carry him off to bed, because Stiles awakes up in Derek’s arms when the room is dark and it must be late at night so he searches blearily for his phone, shoots his father a text saying he won’t be coming home because he’s sleeping at Derek’s before dropping back into his arms again.
The next morning Derek hands Stiles his own new bottle of scent removing body wash and tells him to take it home with him. Stiles blushes when he realizes exactly what parts of him must smell like Derek, and what exact substance of Derek's they smell like.
He means to leave, in case the pack shows up unexpectedly, but instead Stiles ends up making out with Derek for over twenty minutes, running his hands lightly through his hair, kissing him all over in the hopes of making him laugh, or making his eyes go dark with hunger. He succeeds at both.
And they're ten minutes late to work because of it though neither of them are upset by the fact. The deputies Stiles works with all seem to know he’s seeing someone, even if his father never explicitly stated who, and Stiles endures some light teasing when they see the hickey on his neck.
It’s totally worth it.
The family dinners turn out to be totally worth it too. Derek and his father have always gotten along after he became in-the-know for the supernatural, but Stiles discovers that it’s even better to see them like this, sharing stories over the dinner table, laughing at each other’s jokes, some of which Stiles would argue are terribly unfunny.
Even with his father’s knowledge now of the strangeness of Beacon Hills, he’s still willing to tap into Derek’s wellspring of supernatural knowledge. Growing up supernatural certainly gave him an edge for knowing a lot of things about a lot of different creatures that Stiles’ father has never even heard about before. It’s nice to hear Derek talking about his family too. He does it more freely in the Stilinski household, as if the Sheriff and Stiles put him at ease somehow.
Since everything between them seems to be going so well relationship wise, Stiles would very much like to believe that they do. Derek makes him ridiculously happy it turns out.
And Stiles has the feeling that he’s having a similar affect, from the way Derek smiles at him sometimes.
The front door opens when they’ve finally had the time to themselves at Derek’s apartment and Derek’s in the middle of stretching Stile’s ass open with his fingers. Both of them freeze at the sound of voices, Stiles’ heart pounding all of a sudden, and Derek carefully draws his fingers loose.
“Stay here,” he whispers, barely speaking to the point that Stiles strains to hear him.
The bedroom reeks of sex, which is why Derek’s been keeping it shut lately during pack meetings and Stiles worries how long it's going to take the pack to recognize his heartbeat in the room and smell his arousal in the air.
Is there a difference between unfulfilled arousal and the arousal of someone who just had their boyfriend's fingers inside them, stroking their prostate? Stiles remains as still as possible and tries not to panic. He can barely hear the flow of voices though, and it wouldn’t surprise him if Derek had a room that was slightly soundproofed.
“Get out,” he hears Derek say gruffly to the few pack members that seem to have found their way into his apartment. "I'm busy."
“Is that lube I smell?” Erica demands gleefully.
“Like I said, I’m busy.”
“Do you have someone in your room?” Stiles hears Isaac ask, a little suspiciously.
He realizes the sight he would make, naked, lying face down on Derek’s bed with his ass on full display and wonders if he should try and move. But that would make more sound, wouldn’t it? How are they not hearing his heartbeat right now?
“Since there’s no emergency,” Derek says loudly, over the other voices. “I’m going back to jerk off and make full use of my Saturday.”
Erica laughs but Stiles can hear the door opening again and footsteps. Oh they’re leaving, thank God.
“And you say that Stiles overshares,” comes Allison’s voice and Stiles cringes at the thought of all four of them walking in on this situation.
What a close call.
The front door finally shuts and Stiles can breathe again. When Derek slips back into the room, he lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank God,” he groans. “Now come put those fingers back where they were.”
Derek laughs and squirts more lube onto said fingers in question, warming them up before teasing at Stiles’ hole again. “You’re gonna fuck me, right?” Stiles moans, once Derek’s fingers are inside him again and moving. “You are, aren’t you?”
Stiles feels Derek’s lips press against his spine. “Yeah,” he promises. “Are you okay though? You were freaking out back there.”
He sighs and moves against Derek’s hand with an uneven groan. “Yeah. Because I was naked, with my ass on display and the pack showed up.”
Derek scoots down the bed a little and suddenly there’s a mouth on his ass, then teeth. Stiles whimpers and grinds his cock harder against the mattress.
“It is a very nice display,” he admits, chuckling a little even as he lightly smacks Stiles on the ass.
Stiles grins into the pillow and wiggles his butt for good measure. “Only for you.”
There’s Derek’s sharp intake of breath next, and then he’s prepping Stiles so that he can put his dick into him. When he’s finally ready, Stiles can’t speak over the overwhelming sensation of fullness as Derek pushes into him, inch by inch. Stiles hasn’t said ‘I love you’ since the first time they had sex, but by the time Derek starts moving, Stiles keeps choking out the words like a mantra until they dissolve into garbled sounds.
When they’ve come and Derek is sprawled out across Stiles, arm and leg half thrown over his torso with their bodies slowly beginning to cool off, he open his mouth and leans into Stiles’ skin.
“I love you too,” Derek says quietly.
And Stiles feels the words warm him up all over.
For their weekly family date, Derek takes Stiles and his father out of town to a restaurant that Stiles has literally never heard of before.
“I am way too underdressed for this,” he murmurs, catching sight of the spotless glass windows and the swanky set up of the restaurant from the outside when they pull up to the curb in the Camaro.
Stiles is wearing a flannel shirt. And a ratty pair jeans. He is not going to fit in here at all. Derek smiles and takes his hand once he climbs out of the car. “You look great,” he insists. “And I-“
“You like me, right?” Stiles demands. “You not trying to punish me right now, are you?”
The Sheriff laughs at that, and Stiles shoots him an offended look. You’d think being his only living heir that John Stilinski would be on his side and more willing to stick up for his son.
“We’re not going there,” Derek mutters, rolling his eyes. “They look like a bunch of assholes.”
The Sheriff is laughing even more loudly now and Stiles exhales a sigh of relief. “Oh thank God,” he says. “So where are we eating then?”
Derek jerks his head down the street where Stiles can see a respectable looking restaurant with a big red sign and white lettering hanging over its door. One that won’t cost their entire house to visit. At least Derek is practical with his money.
Stiles squeezes Derek’s hand and lets him lead them down towards the restaurant. When a heavily overweight man comes out through the door, mid-bite of what looks like the biggest burger in existence, Stiles instantly gets suspicious. “You’re trying to bribe my dad into liking you more with unhealthy meal options!” he accuses, sliding his hand free so he can poke at Derek’s leather jacket.
Derek grins shamelessly.
“It’s working,” John says, gleefully as he darts into the burger joint like it's christmas time, already preparing to order.
Stiles realizes that he’s been ganged up on, and that his intentions to keep his father healthy and prolong his life have been defeated. For the moment. “You are so gonna make this up to me later,” Stiles mutters as Derek opens the door and holds it for him.
He smiles softly and Stiles can’t find it in himself to be angry at all. His dad has been eating well this past week anyway. One cheat day couldn’t really hurt, could it?
“I will,” he promises, leaning in to kiss him. “You know I will.”
Well, as long as Derek is planning on making it up to him. Stiles wants to be annoyed that Derek and his father are getting along enough to be plotting against him, but he’s not really going to complain. Not if the alternative is his father loading up a shotgun and taking a leaf out of Chris Argent’s hunter manual.
Besides Stiles could go for a burger and some fries too.
The weekly pack meeting is over and Stiles intends to drag Derek straight into the bedroom after.
Scott gave him a lift to Derek’s apartment today, and when the meeting finishes he looks at him expectantly when Stiles doesn’t immediately follow him out. “Uh- Derek will drive me back,” he says. “I need to uh- look for my wallet. I think I left it here the other day.”
Derek raises an eyebrow but throws a hand out as if in silent invitation to search.
It’s a pretty poor excuse but Stiles can’t always use the marathoning a TV show example every time. Eventually the rest of the pack will be expecting them to finish the twelve seasons of MST3K, and then they’ll have no excuse to be spending so much time together. Luckily no one questions him on it though, because technically he did leave his wallet here the other night even if he doesn’t actually need to search for it.
It’s lying unattended on Derek’s bedside table.
The pack is ready to go home though, so nobody lingers once they’ve been given the all clear. Even though the door shuts behind them, Derek doesn’t speak for a while, just keeps his head cocked to the side like he’s listening. It’s not until Stiles can hear the rumble of multiple engines that he realizes they’re in the clear.
“I think that’s actually the worst excuse you’ve ever come up with,” Derek admits, grinning, once they’re happily alone together.
Stiles glares at him. “Excuse you, I’m the one doing all the lie gymnastics here considering the rest of the pack are built in falsehood detectors.”
Derek pulls Stiles into his arms and attempts to cuddle him into forgiveness. Which, fine okay, it works. “You’re also the one who insisted the pack make a rule where I can’t date for a year.”
“Yeah,” he says, because Stiles still stands by that decision, sort of. “Only because I didn’t even know I was an option at the time. Otherwise I would never have said it.”
Derek holds him a little tighter and laughs. “It’s nice to know you were so unbiased in the decision and not at all serving your own agenda.”
“You should be so impressed,” he grumbles into Derek’s neck. “We’ve been going at it for months and no one’s so much as looked at us sideways. Even with the major bonding going on between you and my dad.”
“Because when you describe our sex life as ‘going at it’ it’s no wonder they’d assume we just tolerate one another.”
“We don’t tolerate,” Stiles argues. “We banter. And it’s sexy and full of unresolved tension.”
Derek laughs and drags Stiles onto the couch so that he’s more or less lying on top of him. “We literally had sex here yesterday. I’d say that’s pretty resolved.”
Stiles leans in and absentmindedly kisses Derek’s jaw. “But see they don’t know that. Hence the unresolved, sexy banter.”
He can feel Derek’s hands idly stroking down his back before he generously starts kneading the muscle there. “Can banter be sexy though? It’s just banter.”
Which, lies. Gross untruths, Stiles will not stand for this. “Banter can totally be sexy. It’s how I seduced you obviously,” he replies, letting out a soft groan when Derek hits a particularly good spot.
Derek snorts but keeps rubbing his hands into Stiles' back. “Obviously. How did I not see the signs?”
Stiles pushes his face into Derek’s throat and grins into the skin there, relaxing in the warmth. Werewolves run hotter than most people so Stiles always feels like he’s cuddling a furnace like this and it’s so awesome. “I’m a subtle kind of guy, you know.”
Derek laughs outright then, and Stiles grins, feeling giddy with pleasure.
“So,” he says, tactlessly, already starting to wiggle out of his pants before tossing them onto the floor. “Want to take this to the bedroom?”
Derek’s happy to oblige.
He’s laughing, because Derek’s hands are sliding along his sensitive ribs playfully now that they’re finally out of their clothes and Derek has taken the time and lube to stretch him open properly.
“Oh,” Stiles whimpers, gripping at the pillow and dragging it into his arms when Derek starts to push in.
It’s comfortable like this curled up on their sides and Stiles sighs, loosening up as Derek leans over him, cock sliding in at a different angle than he’s used to.
“So good,” he says, struggling to pull Derek back down. He likes it best when Derek’s arms are wrapped tight around him, holding him close.
And Derek seems to like that too since he wraps an arm under Stiles’ armpit and braces a hand on his thigh for purchase when he starts to thrust.
He loses his grip almost immediately because Stiles is moving too much and actually falls on top of him with a grunt of surprise. Stiles snorts with laughter at that as Derek scrambles to pull his weight off him, laughing as well when they try to figure out the positioning again. When Derek finally resumes his pace, Stiles doesn’t have the breath in him to snigger.
“Fuck,” he groans, reaching out and clasping Derek’s hand beneath him, intertwining their fingers as his body moves with the strength of Derek’s hips. He’s lying on his side in the center of the bed, but somehow he feels like he’s about to fall off anyway.
His dick is hard and leaving wet spots on the sheets and Stiles could care less with Derek rocking into him like he is. God, he could do this forever, especially with Derek dragging his fingers slowly along his thigh, before catching under his knee and lifting his leg up to shift the angle again, open him wider to receive his dick. Stiles groans and worries he’s going to come too soon.
“Hey Derek I-“ comes Jackson’s voice in the doorway before he realizes exactly what he walked in on. “Whoa,” he cries, covering his eyes as Stiles frantically drags the pillow down to cover his junk.
Derek just drops down onto Stiles to help shield him from view and yells at Jackson to get out.
The door snaps shut behind him and Stiles’ heart is pounding in his ribs when Derek carefully slides out of him and goes searching for his pants. Stiles hunts for his own pants but they must still be out in the living room, so he hurries over to Derek’s chest of drawers and steals a pair of sweatpants to throw on instead.
How the hell are they going to keep this quiet?
When Stiles hurries outside, Derek and Jackson are already standing near the doorway. Jackson turns towards him and his eyes rake over Stiles’ bare chest with interest.
“Knock it off,” Derek warns and Jackson looks away with a scowl.
Stiles feels a rush of heat at the possessive tone in Derek’s voice and can’t help but feel a little smug. Oh yeah, Stiles is totally a hot piece. Except that’s not the main focus right now, even when he’ll definitely be ruminating over it later.
“Soooo,” Stiles says awkwardly. “Is it worth it trying to appeal to your kind and sweet nature in order to keep this under wraps?”
Jackson just rolls his eyes and heads for the front door without a lick of concern. “I don’t give a shit what the two of you get up to together.”
That’s a surprise. “But what about the-?“
“Yeah I’m so torn up that Derek broke a childish rule you dumbasses made up to keep him from dating serial killers.”
Since Jackson puts it like that. Stiles really doesn’t know what to say. “Um-“
“Yeah whatever, Stilinski. I just came over to tell you that there’s a new hunter in town. Came across him skulking through the woods, setting up traps.”
Jesus, can’t they ever catch a break?
“We’ll deal with it,” Stiles says, because what else is he supposed to talk about? How Jackson walked in on them having sex and apparently doesn’t care enough to rat them out?
Jackson keeps to his word and doesn’t tell anyone, but the appeal of keeping things quiet now has worn off since they were caught together and nothing exactly terrible happened.
Besides Jackson possibly seeing Stiles’ junk.
“Maybe we should tell the others then,” Stiles says aloud, when they’re spooning on his bed, Derek pressed up against his back.
They’re having dinner with the Sheriff tonight once he finishes his shift at seven, but for now they have the hour to themselves. “Do you want to?” Derek asks, kissing softly along Stiles’ throat.
He closes his eyes and leans into the touch, thinking. Would it really be so bad? They know Stiles isn’t planning on murdering them anytime soon. If anything, he seems to be the best partner Derek’s had in a while, not to toot his own horn or whatever.
“Yeah,” he says, thoughtfully, stroking Derek’s forearms which are locked warm and firm around his stomach. “Maybe.”
At the next pack meeting Stiles is nervous. The hunters have come and gone, and nothing terrible has really happened this week, besides the fact that he’s been considering admitting that he broke Derek’s no-dating rule and subsequently wooed the fuck out of him.
“So,” he starts carefully once they’ve ordered Chinese food and delegated Allison to pick up duty because she's sitting closest to the door. “So-“
Derek looks over at him expectantly and Stiles can’t even get the words out. For once. When he can’t say anything the rest of the pack disappears into the living room to watch TV, including Derek who’s smiling a little, as if Stiles’ reaction is funny.
Erica and Allison linger with him, but Erica only stays because she clearly has something to say. “Your ass looks phenomenal in those jeans,” she tells Allison, with a sly kind of smirk.
“Oh thanks!” she replies brightly, not picking up on what Erica is putting down at all. “I’ve been working out a lot lately.”
Erica glances at Stiles like she wants to roll her eyes at him but refrains at the last minute, traipsing out of the room to join the others in defeat.
“You know she’s hitting on you right,” Stiles points out, because he’s not one to beat around a bush.
Allison blinks at him. Then laughs. “Of course she isn’t, Stiles. Don’t be silly.”
Erica’s voice travels out from the other room. “Have been for about a year now, but thanks for noticing.”
Her answering blush is somehow very satisfying. Especially when Allison fumbles with her car keys and rocks quickly to her feet. “Okay,” she says after a beat of just standing there and processing the last few seconds. “Okay. I’m going outside now. To pick up the take-out. And if someone in the pack is interested in dating me, they’re welcome to join and discuss this further.”
Allison walks out with a final glance at the living room where Erica is sitting with Boyd, Danny and Isaac on the biggest couch, and the hopefulness on her face is much too endearing for polite company. Maybe he should have said something ages ago.
When she steps outside and the front door closes behind her, there’s a sudden crash and Erica comes staggering out from the living room, flushed and wild eyed. “She was serious, hey Stiles?” she demands, staring intensely at him. “Like you heard her. She wasn’t kidding, right?”
He feels like he should probably be afraid by her intensity, but he’s mostly more amused than anything. “She was totally serious.”
Erica practically sprints out the door after her. Stiles smiles to himself and suddenly feels a lot braver. “Okay!” he says loudly, storming into the living room. “I broke the pack rules.”
Lydia frowns at him. “You overshared?”
Oh. Stiles almost forgot there was a rule against him as well. “Nope,” he admits, quickly. “The no-dating one.”
The pack glances between him and Derek.
“But-“ Isaac tries, confused. “Derek is the one-“
Jackson makes a frustrated sound, even as he’s reading something on his phone. “They’re screwing each other, morons.”
“Dating,” Derek corrects firmly, shooting Stiles a supportive kind of look that makes him want to run over and kiss him a lot.
“Wait, hold up,” Scott says, looking like he’s trying to think this through. “So you two have been secretly dating this whole time? What happened to the deal?!”
Stiles scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Not the whole time?”
“But basically the whole time,” Derek says, folding his arms and actually looking very pleased with himself.
Stiles wants to be mad about him not helping the situation but he looks so settled and relaxed in the idea that Stiles just feels giddy instead. They’re like in a committed relationship now. Stiles is trying to work up to sweet pet names and everything, though honey boo did not go down well. Back to the drawing board on that account.
“But what about your dad?” Scott asks. “Does he know?”
Derek starts to look even more pleased with himself. “Are you kidding?” Stiles mutters. “My dad loves him, Scotty. They watch football games together now. They laugh at each other’s horrible jokes.”
Scott suddenly starts to look impressed.
“Well I guess Stiles is a much better improvement than your last romantic dalliance,” Isaac admits slowly to Derek as if he’d rather not concede to the fact. He’s still not a fan of Stiles’ everything after all.
“Disagree,” Jackson mutters, without looking up from the screen of his phone, just to be contrary.
Stiles gives him a dirty look. And Derek barely blinks. “You weren’t thinking that when you walked in on us and saw Stiles naked.”
The faint tinge of pink to Jackson’s cheeks as he splutters in protest is entirely satisfying.
“We probably shouldn’t have tried to control who you date,” Boyd says, glancing at the others as if he expects them to agree with him. “It was unfair of us.”
“No, I stand by that,” Stiles mutters, turning to his boyfriend. “You’re a terrible judge of character.”
Derek’s eyebrows nearly disappear into his hairline. “I’m dating you.”
“Exactly,” he agrees, as if that proves the point when he walks over to stand beside him.
Derek makes a disbelieving sound and raises his hands incredulously before slipping them around Stiles’ waist and dragging him in closer. Stiles lets himself be reeled in and does his best not to reflect the main qualities of a tomato.
But he has no regrets. Not even when Erica and Allison return twenty minutes later with food, looking quite flushed and lip gloss smudged as if they’ve been getting to know each other very well in the last few minutes.
When Erica catches sight of Derek’s arms around Stiles she puts it all together without having to be told the news and laughs for nearly an hour.
“You know you’re actually great though, right?” Derek asks later when they’re curled up together in bed.
Stiles flushes and buries his face into Derek’s chest, his heart full and warm. “I know,” he says softly, kissing along Derek’s skin.
Derek grins into Stiles’ hair and pulls him closer. “How so?”
“Because I actually am an excellent judge of character.”
Derek laughs then and it’s literally the best sound in the world.
“So, I guess I’m enacting a new rule then. A dating Stiles rule.”
“Oh?” Derek wonders, sounding amused. “For how long?”
Stiles flushes. “Forever, if you’re into that.”
Derek doesn’t reply straight away and Stiles finally lifts his head off his chest in order to look at him, only for Derek use that moment to strike as he leans in and kisses him. It takes Stiles by surprise for a moment, but when Derek pulls away he’s smiling.
“Where do I sign up?”