Derek doesn’t know how it started.
Actually, that’s a lie. He knows exactly how it started, but there’s no way in hell he’s ever going to admit to that. Not that anyone knows about it anyway.
It being his fondness for rom coms.
(Fondness isn’t nearly a strong enough word.)
Contrary to popular belief, he actually does own a laptop. He doesn’t use it for normal laptop-y purposes, though. Well, actually, watching movies on Netflix probably is fairly normal, or it would be if that wasn’t the only thing he used his laptop for. But really, it’s not like he can just use the large flat screen TV in the living room with the amount of people who filter in and out of his apartment during the day.
Today, though, he’s indulging. Even though everyone’s back from college for the summer, Erica and Boyd are out on a date, and Isaac’s off doing god knows what with Allison. Peter’s in Hawaii (the only reason Derek knows this is because of the post card he’d received yesterday) and, well, there’s really no one else who bothers to come by his place unless it’s for a pack meeting.
So Derek pops the well-worn DVD into the annoyingly high-tech player that all of his betas had insisted on, and settles down on the couch with the comforter from his bed wrapped around him.
It’s just getting to the good part when Stiles barges in.
“Hey, is Peter around? ‘cause he threatened to gut me if I didn’t return his stupid book by Friday, and I kind of like my guts where they – ” Stiles starts, blabbering on as he usually does, but he pauses when he finally focuses on Derek and the TV. “Are you watching The Princess Bride?”
Derek stares at him, wide eyed, trying to find a plausible excuse to get him out of this mess.
“Dude, I love this movie!” Stiles announces, plopping himself down on the other side of the couch.
“Peter’s in Hawaii,” Derek says once he finally regains his mental function.
“Meh. I’ll just leave the book with you then,” Stiles shrugs, shifting slightly and sinking deeper into the couch cushions.
Derek’s not entirely sure what to do after that. Stiles seems determined to make himself at home and watch the movie, and while Derek’s glad that he’s not being subjected to any laughter or ridicule, he kind of wishes that Stiles would just leave so he could watch the movie in peace. He likes yelling at Princess Buttercup for not realizing that the Dread Pirate Roberts is actually Westley, and somehow he doesn’t think that Stiles would let that go very easily.
They fall into an uneasy silence as the movie plays. Or, well, it’s uneasy for Derek – Stiles seems oblivious to it. Derek tries to lose himself in the movie, but he can’t, not with Stiles here. Of course the one day he thought he had the apartment to himself, someone would come barging in.
“Assssss yooooooou wiiiiiiish,” Stiles quotes along with the movie as Westley rolls down the hill.
Derek stares at him.
“What?” Stiles asks, his cheeks a little pink. “It’s cute, you know?”
“Yeah,” Derek mutters after a moment, relaxing a little. “Yeah, it is.”
The rest of the movie passes with incident, and Stiles doesn’t even laugh the one time Derek forgets himself and growls at the movie in frustration. It’s actually kind of… nice.
Derek’s holed away in his room with his laptop the next time it happens.
“Oh my god, please tell me that’s 13 Going on 30,” Stiles crows, his eyes lighting up as he practically throws himself onto Derek’s bed, crowding closer to get a better look at the laptop screen.
Derek tenses, his brain short circuiting for a moment, because he’s guiltily imagined Stiles in his bed before, but absolutely none of those scenarios involved 13 Going on 30 playing in the background.
“I haven’t watched this is forever,” Stiles announces, shifting slightly so that he’s lying on his stomach, his body parallel to Derek’s.
“What are you doing in my room?” Derek asks, glaring at Stiles as he tries to ignore the way Stiles’ elbow brushes up against his side as he tries to find the most comfortable position.
“Erica was gonna watch The Dark Knight with me, but then she ditched to go make out with Boyd or whatever,” Stiles answers, making a face.
“So you decided to bother me,” Derek concludes, trying to emphasize his annoyance so that Stiles doesn’t somehow pick up on the fact that Derek kind of maybe wants to pause the movie and put the bed to better use. He tries not to think too hard about what it means that Stiles can make him willing to pause one of his favorite rom coms.
“And aren’t I glad I did,” Stiles replies, tearing his eyes away from the laptop screen for long enough to grin cheekily at Derek. “Seriously, though, the Thriller scene is the best.”
Derek grunts, carefully not admitting that he has a weakness for that particular scene, too.
“Also, Mark Ruffalo in a tux, yes please,” Stiles continues, tongue darting out to lick his lower lip.
Derek does his best to avoid tearing a hole in his bed sheets with his claws, but it’s a near thing.
“Do you like 10 Things I Hate About You?” Stiles asks as soon as Derek picks up the phone.
“What?” Derek replies, completely thrown off guard.
“You know, the movie with Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Julia – ” Stiles starts.
“I know the movie, I just don’t understand why you’re asking me about it,” Derek interrupts, frowning, adjusting his grip on his phone in order to put down his book.
Stiles is silent for a few moments. In fact, Derek’s starting to wonder if he’s hung up or the connection has shorted out when he finally speaks again.
“Okay, so you can’t, like, judge me for this or anything, because I already know that you have a weakness for rom coms, but I, uh, haven’t seen it. The film,” Stiles says, his words a little rushed and jumbled. “And it’s not on Netflix, and I guess I could illegally stream it or something, but then I thought that, hey, maybe I could avoid a couple of computer viruses by asking you if you own a copy or – ”
“Come over at seven,” Derek says, cutting off Stiles’ rambling.
“What?” Stiles asks, confused.
“Come over at seven,” Derek repeats, already getting up off the living room couch to look through the DVD collection stashed carefully in the back of his closet. “I’ll have things set up.”
“It’s a date,” Stiles replies automatically, making Derek freeze for a moment, his eyes widening. “Or, wait – that’s not – I didn’t mean like a date date. Just, like, a couple of guys hanging out and watching rom coms and – ”
Derek can’t quite suppress a small snort of laughter as Stiles flails about verbally.
“I’m gonna shut up now,” Stiles finishes, and for a moment Derek wishes that Stiles was here with him, if only so he could see just how bright red Stiles’ face is right now. “I’ll, uh, see you at seven.”
He hangs up before Derek can get a word in edgewise.
Stiles shows up with popcorn, Derek orders pizza, and they’re both careful to sit on opposite ends of the couch as they watch the movie.
It’s definitely not a date.
Somehow it becomes a thing that they do, watching rom coms together. It’s… nice, having someone to share his guilty pleasure with. It takes a few times for him to learn that Stiles doesn’t actually mind it when he yells at the characters, as long as Derek doesn’t mind that Stiles laughs a little too loud sometimes.
Unfortunately, Derek’s beginning to realize that their little movie sessions might be becoming a bit of a problem.
Because of everyone else flitting in and out of the apartment, more often than not the two of them end up pressed together in front of his laptop, sprawled out over his bed – which has started to smell less like his and more like theirs. It’s not really until Derek tries watching Just Like Heaven on his own and turns to make a comment to Stiles that he realizes how fucked he is.
“So,” Erica says as she plops herself down into the chair across from him at the kitchen table, a bowl of cheerios in her hands. “You and Stiles.”
“What about us?” Derek asks, giving her a sharp look.
“How’s the sex?” she asks, making Derek choke on his coffee. He spends a few moments coughing and sputtering before he’s able to even look up in order to stare at her incredulously.
“What?” he finally manages, his voice a little strangled. From coughing, of course.
“Please, you two aren’t subtle at all,” Erica snorts, sticking another spoonful of cereal in her mouth.
“We’re not having sex,” Derek protests, doing his best to avoid thinking about Stiles and sex together.
“Uh huh,” Erica replies, sounding less than convinced. “So that’s why he’s spent three evenings in your bedroom with the door locked this past week alone. Seriously, your room reeks of him. I can smell it from the hallway.”
“We watch movies together,” Derek says, guiltily remembering how he’s spent a solid half hour yesterday just lying in his bed and soaking in Stiles’ scent. It’s creepy, is what it is.
“Really,” Erica says flatly, raising one eyebrow at him. “What was the last movie you saw?”
“The Dark Knight,” Derek blurts out, because he can’t very well admit that it was double feature night and they’d watched both When Harry Met Sally and Easy A.
“You’re lying,” Erica retorts, narrowing her eyes at him, and Derek momentarily regrets teaching her how to detect lies. “And anyway, superhero movies are Stiles’ and my thing. Try again.”
“Look, we’re not having sex,” Derek sighs, leaning back in his chair. “You know I’m not lying.”
“But you want to be having sex with Stiles,” Erica says, all too perceptive.
Derek doesn’t dignify that with an answer. She’ll know that he’s lying if he denies it, so he might as well not say anything, no matter how telling his silence is.
“Interesting,” Erica says, smirking mischievously.
Derek has a bad feeling about this.
“So,” Stiles says from where he’s sitting cross-legged on Derek’s bed, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. “I had an interesting conversation with Erica a few days ago.”
“Did you?” Derek asks, trying his best to sound uninterested.
“Yep,” Stiles answers, popping the ‘p’ in a way that Derek finds simultaneously annoying and endearing.
Silence descends over them and Derek looks over in confusion from where he’s scrolling through Netflix's rom com options in order to give Stiles a questioning look. Stiles is looking back at him expectantly with big whiskey-brown eyes, but Derek can’t for the life of him fathom what Stiles is trying to get him to say.
“What?” he asks, frowning.
“Nothing,” Stiles says after a moment, averting his eyes. “She just said… hey, do you mind if I pick out the movie this time?”
Derek blinks at him, startled by the sudden change in conversation topic. He shrugs and hands over his laptop, though. Stiles accepts it from him, setting it in his lap, but making sure to angle it so that Derek can’t see the screen. Derek's brow furrows in confusion. He doesn’t understand half of what Stiles does on a good day, but this is a little weirder than usual.
“I really like this movie,” Stiles says almost shyly as he sets the laptop down again, the film already playing.
Stiles lies down next to him, their shoulders brushing, and Derek frowns as the title comes up. It’s not one that he recognizes – G.B.F., whatever that stands for – but, then again, it's not like he knows every rom com ever produced.
From the opening credits and the beginning of the first scene, it looks like a typical high school rom com, but if Stiles likes it, it’s probably –
Oh. Oh. It’s a gay rom com.
He sneaks a glance at Stiles, but Stiles' gaze is firmly fixed on the laptop screen, even though his cheeks look a little flushed. Maybe that’s just the lighting, though. Derek refrains from commenting and turns back to the movie.
However, he does shift a little closer to Stiles. Just a little.
They don’t speak until the credits are rolling. It’s probably the first movie since they watched The Princess Bride where they haven’t kept up a running commentary.
“They never kissed,” Derek finally says, breaking the silence.
“They decided to stay friends. It happens,” Stiles replies, shrugging. “And, I mean, Brent had a point, right? I mean, even if they were both completely head over heels for each other, a long distance relationship probably won’t have worked out.”
Derek turns to look at Stiles, studying him carefully.
“That’s bullshit,” Derek says softly before leaning in to press a soft, chaste kiss to Stiles’ lips.
“Oh,” Stiles breathes, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment before he opens them again to look at Derek. “So you – even though I’m at Berkeley – ”
Derek cuts him off with another kiss, deeper this time, even though it’s just as soft.
“We can skype,” Derek replies after they pull away, although they’re still close enough that he can feel Stiles’ warm breath against his lips.
“I’ve always wanted to try skype sex,” Stiles says, grinning teasingly at Derek, who rolls his eyes. “Maybe we should save that for later, though.”
Their third kiss is considerably less soft.
“When I asked you if you were having sex with Stiles, I didn’t mean that I wanted you to be having sex with Stiles,” Erica complains, wrinkling her nose as she passes by Derek’s room the next day.
“Maybe you should have thought of that before you started meddling,” Derek replies, unapologetic.
Erica scowls at him.
“Thanks, though,” Derek says softly, as she turns to continue down the hallway.
“Yeah, well, you two aren’t the only ones who watch too many rom coms around here,” Erica replies flippantly.
“You knew?” Derek asks, startled.
“We share a Netflix account and you never delete your history,” Erica snorts, smirking at him. “Everyone knows.”
With that, she leaves. Derek groans, picking up his phone to text Stiles.
Derek (4:56 pm)
I hate Erica
Stiles (4:56 pm)
wanna come over and watch 13 going on 30?
Derek can't help but smile a little at that. Maybe he doesn’t completely hate Erica, after all.