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Husband Material

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Derek is watching Stiles walk away from his apartment building. The evening had been amazing. He’d finally asked Stiles out. He’d been terrified at that moment, but when Stiles jumped him in the middle of the parking lot, he’d realized he should’ve done this way sooner. Just like he’s realizing right now, that he should’ve asked Stiles inside. It didn’t have to lead to sex, not that Derek would’ve minded, but mostly he hadn’t wanted the night to end. Stiles had wanted to stay, Derek realizes, waited for him to ask him inside. The man had lingered as long as he could, and maybe there had been the tiniest spark of disappointment in his eyes when he’d walked away.

Derek sighs. Maybe he should text Stiles, ask him to come back up. Yes, he should do that. He’s about to turn away to take out his phone when he sees Stiles being pulled into the alley next to his building.

What the hell?

He opens the window and catches the end of a sentence.

‘- gut you like dog.’ Derek doesn’t recognize the voice, but he doesn’t need to, to realize it’s owner is up to no good.

‘Actually, it’s like a f-’ Stiles starts.

‘No, talking! Only handing over the dough!’ a second unfamiliar voice hisses. ‘Or my knife is going to find a home in your throat.’

Derek sees red for a second. He swings out of the window and onto the fire escape. He can feel himself shifting. And when he yells, ‘You better start running!’ his voice is a lot deeper than usual.

The two muggers are so shocked, they jump back a foot, giving Stiles the space to run off. Derek jumps from platform to platform on the fire escape, not bothering with the stairs. By the time he reaches the ground, his eyes are glowing bright blue and his fangs and claws ready to tear out the muggers’ throats.

But the ally is empty. Stiles and the muggers are gone. But Stiles can’t be that far away, his scent is still strong, right where Derek is standing. He looks down and sees a wallet lying on the grimy tiles. Of course. He picks it up and sprints after Stiles. It only takes a couple seconds for him to catch up.

‘Hey,’ he says, grabbing Stiles’ elbow. In hindsight, Derek realized that grabbing someone who’s just been threatened at knife-point and who’s been training with werewolves for the past four years isn’t a very good idea.

He never saw the fist coming. He did feel it connecting with his nose, though.

‘Derek? Oh my god, I’m so sorry!’ Stiles says. ‘I thought you were another one. Fuck, dude, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?’

‘No!’ Derek can feel the blood streaming out of his nose and it’s starting to seep through his fingers. Stiles is noticing it, too.

‘Shit! I’m so sorry!’

He keeps apologizing all the way back to Derek’s apartment, through stemming the blood-flow, cleaning the blood. And even when they’re sitting at the kitchen counter with a cup of tea, Stiles is still trying to convey how sorry he is.

‘Stiles, stop.’

‘What? Do you want me to go? Did I just ruin everything? Oh god, I totally did. We had such an amazing evening and then I punched you in the nose and now were never going to go on a second date.’ Stiles drops his head on the counter. ‘Of course, after two years of being in love with you, you finally ask me out and then I screw up. I didn’t just screw up. I broke your nose!’

Derek can’t help but smile. The man sitting across from him is completely ridiculous. And Derek loves him, too. He drags a hand through Stiles hair, smile widening when Stiles leans into it with a soft whine.

‘You didn’t ruin it, but if you want to make it up you could- you could stay here. Tonight. If you’d like to?’ Derek holds his breath as he waits for an answer.

Stiles lifts his head up slowly and Derek lets his hand drop from where it was still carding through his hair. Stiles’ eyes are big and his mouth is hanging open. In a blink of an eye that surprised look is replaced is by one of pure happiness. Another blink and Stiles is pulling Derek over the counter and placing a kiss and a whispered ‘yes’ on his lips.



Three years later


‘Can I have your attention, please?’ Stiles says. He stands up to look at all the guests, but he doesn’t let go of Derek’s hand. ‘I know that as the groom I’m not supposed to have a speech. Or at least none aside from the wedding vows, but I’ve never really followed the rules, so I don’t see why I should start now.’ That gets a few laughs, a groan from the Sheriff and a high-five from Scott. ‘I want to tell you the story of the night of our first date.’

This time it’s Derek who groans. Stiles has told the story a hundred times. It’s never the same twice. The number of muggers has gone from two to five, and Derek didn’t just have a nosebleed, but in the past three years he’s also had a concussion, a broken nose, a broken jaw, a black eye, and he’s been unconscious for at least five minutes. It’s a miracle he’s still alive. Also, the street thugs were actually ninjas, because they now carry throwing stars, do roundhouse kicks, have daggers, and one even has a sword.

At this point there’s no one who actually believes the attempted mugging ever happened. But everyone still listens. And everyone applauds after. Derek once asked the Sheriff why that was, why did everyone still listen to that story?

‘It’s because he’s talking about you, son,’ the man had answered. ‘He just lights up. It’s beautiful to see. It’s also because you go bright red, and that’s hilarious to see.’

So Derek groans and tries to slide under the table. Not out of embarrassment, but because it helps Stiles tell his story. And Derek will always have his husband’s back.