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I Really Like You

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Being in college is fan-fucking-tastic.

Stiles is living the dream, boys and girls.

The pack more or less resembles one big metaphorical handshake now. More nights end in movie credits rather than blood slaughter, and Stiles mostly researches the supernatural out of curiosity these days, in his spare time, instead of having to work out an impromptu, pressurised plan to save the necks of his beloved werewolves. Because that’s kind of what they are to him now. Isaac almost hugged him last week. It was creepy and highly uncomfortable and Stiles really doesn’t want to have to relive the experience, but it is still nicer knowing the guy no longer wants to strangle him with one of his many scarves.

Being able to purchase alcohol is also a very nice bonus. He and Scott even have fancy Disney princess mugs to drinks all their cheap ass wine out of. Stiles is Belle and Scott is Cinderella. (The collection also came with an Ariel design, but they leave that for when Lydia comes to stay. Stiles never lets her drink out of anything else, despite the glares she gives him. Doesn’t matter though, he knows he’s funny.)

The only thing Stiles was missing from his awesome college experience was one grumpy faced sourwolf.

It isn’t that Derek isn’t around. He is. A lot. Next to Scott, Stiles spends most of his time with Derek. They’ve been to the movies and dinner and everything, like real bros. The problem is, despite the fact Derek does smile way more often than he used to now, he’s still a stick in the mud most of the time.

Lydia, awesome as always, managed to find a safe way to add wolfsbane to just about everything meaning Stiles got to experience his first ever drunk Scott in the summer following their senior year.

Stiles had tried everything to get Derek to drink, but the werewolf always refused, saying someone had to keep their head about them. That wasn’t the reason though, Stiles knew. He had offered to play the sober driver on more than one occasion and Derek still hadn’t budged.

That is, until tonight.

Tonight is Stiles’ nineteenth birthday, and when Derek had asked him what he wanted- because apparently Derek has a secret relish for gift giving, the dork- Stiles gave him his best puppy dog eyes and declared that he wanted to be the proud owner of one drunk Derek Hale.

Derek had sighed and his eyebrows communicated their usual annoyance, but to Stiles’ surprise Derek had nodded and taken the next wolfsbane laced shot of vodka that came his way.

Which is how he ended up here.

Back in his dorm room.

Completely sober, with one usually very intimidating werewolf currently playing with Stiles’ laptop, flicking through random songs and wiggling his butt like he’s auditioning for a Shakira music video as Stiles watches his from his bed.

Stiles isn’t going to lie and say Derek wouldn’t make it into that video.

Or that he isn’t just a little bit affected by the view of Derek’s perfect ass in front of him. To say Derek’s ass isn’t sensational, the devil’s own flawless creation, would be to commit the ultimate falsehood.

In fact, he’s so distracted by Derek’s ass that Stiles doesn’t even notice when Derek’s whole face lights up and picks up the bottle of water Stiles keeps on his bedside table.

Doesn’t notice that Derek is trying to get his attention when he turns to face him, music playing, Stiles bemoaning the loss of his favourite masturbatory fantasy. That is until-

I really wanna stop, but I just gotta taste for it,”

Oh my god.

I feel like I could fly with the ball on the moon,”

“Derek, what-”

So honey hold my hand you like making me wait for it, I feel I could die walking up to the room, oh yeah.

Stiles eyes widen in surprise, his jaw literally dropping because, yes, Derek Hale really is singing Carly Rae Jepsen.

To him.

Holding a pretend microphone, complete with dance moves and body rolls that are so incredibly awkward Stiles doubts for a second this really is the same smooth, all graceful werewolf limbs guy he knows.

The one that still threatens him on a weekly basis.

Stiles thinks he has possibly died and gone to heaven.

Late nights watching television,” Derek sings way louder than the song, coming closer to Stiles and kneeling in front of him, a dopey grin plastered wide on his face.

But how we get in this position?” Derek’s eyes go comically wide at that, a little pout on his face, before leaning in and continuing, “It's way too soon, I know this isn't love-” he wags his finger, letting Stiles know Derek has watched the video way too many times and Stiles snorts on a laugh, raising his hand up to cover his face as Derek goes on happily-“but I need to tell you something…

And with that, Derek springs back up and doing some kind of fancy school girl twirl, raises his arms to the ceiling and half yells, half sings-

I really really really really really really like you, and I want you, do you want me, do you want me, too?”

Stiles giggles, unable to help himself when Derek points right at him as he belts out the chorus.

“Uh, Derek?”

But Derek just ignores him, beginning to bounce up and down on the spot, wiggling his hips again, smile fucking salacious, and maybe it’s just Stiles’ imagination, but a little bit shy as he goes-

Oh, did I say too much? I'm so in my head. When we're out of touch.”

Stiles doesn’t take too much time to ponder over it however, not when Derek actually pulls at his hair in time with the word “head”, looking for all the world like the nerdiest Adonis sex god, and then proceeds to come back over to the bed and take Stiles’ fucking hand when he sings “touch”, like his whole performance depends on the accompanying actions.

It's like everything you say is a sweet revelation, all I wanna do is get into your head. Yeah we could stay alone, you and me, and this temptation, sipping on your lips, hanging on by thread, baaaaaby.”

Stiles breath catches, Derek’s eyes staring straight into his, and wow, who would have thought a chart song could make you feel so many emotions all of a sudden?

(Also, the way Derek says “baby”? Yeah, that might have just given him a newfound desire to be called said word, even though he had spent nearly two hours once complaining to Scott how much he hated it because it only reminded him of Justin Bieber now. However, that was until he heard it rolling off of Derek’s tongue…and oh fuck, what a glorious tongue it is.)

It is so close to him now, inches from his own mouth and Stiles wants nothing more than to lean forward and lick.

That is, until Derek does something even more wonderful and climbs into his lap.

“Who gave you eyes like that, said you could keep them?” Derek’s voice drops to a whisper, hand coming up to stroke one side of Stiles’ face.

I don’t know how to act, the way I should be leaving.”

Stiles still thinks he’s grinning like an idiot, how could he not be, but his heart is suddenly beating a million times faster as Derek wraps his arms around his neck, eyes never leaving his.

I’m running out of time, going out of my mind,” he sings softly, and even though in time with the music, sung in the exact same way Carly sings it, yeah, it’s totally different.

Somehow it’s different.

Derek leans in even further, mouth dipping down to lick along the shell of Stiles’ ear and oh god oh god oh god this is it, this is the moment Stiles has been dreaming about since the stupid werewolf pushed him up against his bedroom door three years ago.

A moment he never, ever thought he was going to actually get, and turning his head he closes his eyes and prepares for the kiss he knows is about to happen, Derek’s breath ghosting over his lips in a promise when suddenly, instead, he hears a small, “I love you”.

“Wait, what?” Stiles squeaks, eyes flying open, but Derek is already off of him, picking up the water bottle again as he spins around and screams-

Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaah, I really really really really really really like you!”

“Wait, Derek, what did you just say?”

And I want you, do you want me, do you want me, too?

“Derek!” Stiles stands up, heart pounding, but Derek seems totally oblivious to everything but the song now, closing his eyes and pumping his fists in the air, and oh my god no wonder the guy always refused to drink. He turns into a five year old at his very first party!

Oh, did I say too much? I'm so in my head. When we're out of touch.”

“Derek?” Stiles swings around to stand in front of him, placing two hands on his- extremely toned- biceps. “Derek, look at me please.”

Derek does open his eyes at that, beaming, like Stiles standing in front of him is Christmas come early, but instead of the conversation, the teeny bit of dialogue Stiles hopes is coming his way, Derek just picks Stiles up by the thighs and spins around with him.

Stiles would have enjoyed it if he wasn’t having to hold on for dear fucking life- werewolf strength or not, Derek had definitely being swaying on the way back here- his heart exploding into a thousand sourwolf pieces as Derek finishes the song-

I really really really really really really love you.” His eyes are glowing, not werewolf blue, but from heat and happiness and fucking alcohol, and Stiles really needs to put him to bed, and- wait!

“Did you just say…?” he gasps as Derek backs him up into a wall.

“I said it twice,” Derek says, nuzzling, suddenly shy, into Stiles’ neck. “Your turn.”

Stiles smiles.

“Do you want me, Derek?” he asks, rolling his eyes because only he would be told “I love you” for the first time through the power of Carly Rae Jepsen.

Derek looks up at him, eyes glassy, but mind just present enough as he rubs his nose affectionately against Stiles’.

“What gave it away?” he grins.