Derek knew he was done for as soon as he saw Stiles approach him with a devilish grin on his face. It didn’t matter that they were still in school or that Derek was in a grade above him and a foot taller. Derek was utterly powerless when it came to Stiles.
“Be outside my window tonight at nine. Come in that Camaro of yours,” Stiles demanded as soon as he was standing in front of Derek.
“Your window? Why? Are you sneaking out? Am I helping you?” Derek questioned. He knew Stiles’s dad was the Sheriff, and the last thing he wanted was to get shot or arrested by him because he was an accessory to his son’s criminal activity.
Stiles’s grin widened. “You’ll just have to wait and see. Oh. And bring that leather jacket you wore last time. You looked so hot in it.”
Derek’s face reddened as he remembered what last time Stiles was referring to and what they were doing during it. “Stiles!” he hissed. When they were alone, outside of school, he could handle Stiles’s blatant flirting and come-ons, enjoyed them even. But in school, where they tried to remain like they were nothing more than weak friends, Stiles’s pursuits always embarrassed him.
Technically, by the law, he was an adult (just barely) and Stiles was still a minor (just barely). But with Stiles’s dad being the Sheriff, he was taking the law literally for his own protection. He didn’t want to get shot or arrested, remember?
Stiles only smirked at Derek’s outburst and ran his fingers along Derek’s arm, making him shiver. “You should plan to be out all night, babe,” Stiles whispered before leaving Derek standing in the mostly empty hallway, slightly aroused with his mouth agape. Damn Stiles and his effect on Derek.
The tardy bell rang, snapping Derek out of his daze, and he inwardly cursed and ran to his next class, thoughts of Stiles and their possible plans floating through his head as he tried to pay attention in his English class.
When Derek pulled up to the Stilinski house a little before nine and saw that the Sheriff’s cruiser was still in the driveway, he started freaking out. He parked in the neighbor’s driveway both because it hid his car from view of the Stiles’s house due to the row of bushes and because the little old lady that lived there wasn’t awake to notice or care.
He quietly exited his car, carefully shutting the door as softly as he could. The window to Stiles’s bedroom was already open, with only a dim light visible, which Derek assumed was Stiles’s bedside lamp (because there had been a few rare occasions in which he snuck in to Stiles’s room when the Sheriff had been on shift instead of Stiles sneaking out of it).
As he got closer, he could see changing light and shadows through the shut blinds of the living room window, which meant the Sheriff was probably watching T.V. Derek hoped and prayed it also meant the Sheriff was asleep in front of that T.V., but he wasn’t going to hold his breath.
When he was finally beneath Stiles’s window, he didn’t even have to signal because Stiles was already sitting on the sill, beaming down at him. Derek gave him a little wave though, and Stiles’s smile grew as he shook his head. He held up one finger, as if to indicate for Derek to give him a minute and then disappeared from Derek’s view.
Derek wasn’t sure what Stiles was doing, but soon the room went dark and then Stiles was stepping out of his window onto the ledge. Derek watched in awe and shock as Stiles shimmied across the roof and started climbing down the drainpipe.
His heart caught in his throat when Stiles’s foot slipped and the metal brackets that held the pipe to the house groaned. Stiles stilled, repositioning himself to start his descent again. He seemed fine and unworried, but Derek was the opposite. Derek tried to split his attention between making sure Stiles didn’t fall and kill himself and staring at the living room window for any signs that the Sheriff heard the commotion.
Eventually, Stiles got close enough to the ground to jump the last few feet, and he landed with a grunt. After dusting off his hands and jeans, he strode over to Derek, a smug smirk on his face. He pulled Derek down by the neck and gave him a dirty kiss that had Derek moaning and pulling Stiles in closer, hands clenching the sides of the white tank top underneath Stiles’s plaid overshirt.
Stiles broke the kiss with a nip to Derek’s bottom lip. “Hey,” Stiles whispered against Derek’s lips, leaning back enough to give Derek a soft smile.
“Hey,” Derek replied, a smile matching Stiles’s on his face.
“Let’s get out of here,” Stiles said, twining his fingers with Derek’s and dragging him across the lawn. They hadn’t even gotten to the Camaro before Stiles was cursing and turning back.
“What’s wrong?” Derek whispered as loud as he dared.
“I left my window open.”
Derek gave him a “So?” look with his eyebrows.
“My dad’s going to know as soon as he engages the alarm. I’ll just climb back up, and--” Stiles started, and Derek was about to pull him back and tell him it didn’t matter, only he heard the rustle of blinds and then saw the porch light turn on. They were both in plain view of the door, and with the light now flooding the front steps, they were both recognizable.
“Shit,” Stiles muttered and started backing up towards Derek. “Too late.” He turned back to give Derek a mischievous grin over his shoulder. “Better make a break for it, babe.”
“What?” Derek asked right when the front door opened, and he saw the Sheriff, a shotgun in his hand.
Stiles didn’t bother answering, instead dragging Derek behind him as he took off running towards Derek’s car. There were no shots (thank god), but the Sheriff was definitely yelling and shouting at them as they both climbed into the Camaro.
Mainly because he was running on adrenaline, he tore out of the driveway and sped past Stiles’s house (which probably wasn’t smart) and out of the neighborhood. The Sheriff was on his phone standing near the street when they passed.
“Geez, Stiles! Is your dad going to come after us now?!” Derek’s voice was high with nerves.
Stiles, though, waved him off. “We’ll be fine. I mean, he might send some of his deputies to find us, and he might have put an APB out on your car, but it’s no big deal.” Stiles shrugged, and Derek looked over at him, eyes wild.
“Are you insane?!”
Stiles gave another shrug. “You can’t tell me that wasn’t exciting.”
Derek opened his mouth, then closed it. He was not dignifying that question with an answer. Instead, he drove to their usual spot and couldn’t help but look up in the rearview mirror more frequently than usual, worried about flashing red and blue lights.
Once they were parked, lights off and hidden from the highway by trees, Derek breathed out a relieved sigh and buried his head in his hands.
“What was I thinking?” Derek muttered to himself.
Stiles climbed over the console to sit in Derek’s lap. “You were thinking that I am awesome, and you like me and enjoy my sense of adventure,” Stiles said, pulling the lever to lean Derek’s seat back. He pushed himself against Derek’s chest, hands in Derek’s hair to pull his head back, so he could press open-mouthed kisses to Derek’s neck.
“Hmmm, yeah, something like that,” Derek replied, his own hands drifting down Stiles’s back to palm his ass. Stiles ground his hips down, causing Derek to groan and squeeze Stiles’s ass.
The truth was, Stiles was right, mostly anyway. Stiles’s boldness, riskiness, and recklessness were all things that appealed to Derek, made him feel alive, like he could do anything with Stiles. But, that wasn’t the only reason why he did these things with Stiles or went along with his crazy plans.
It was because he was protective of Stiles; he’d rather be there getting in trouble (or out of it) with Stiles instead of Stiles being on his own. Case in point: Stiles had dragged him to a club last week, and Derek had ended up punching a dude because he was getting handsy with Stiles on the dance floor. He would have never done something like that, but it was Stiles. He had to. And Stiles had rewarded him handsomely for protecting his honor. (A reward Derek wouldn’t soon forget.)
He knew it was because he cared deeply for Stiles, maybe even loved him, not that he’d ever told Stiles or said it out loud. But, deep down he knew that was the reason.
He pushed his thought of his feelings down though so he could focus on making out with Stiles, the feeling of Stiles’s body against his, Stiles’s long fingers tangled in his hair, his own fingers sliding underneath Stiles’s shirt to touch skin. He was lost in the touches, of the feeling of Stiles’s lips against his, their tongues tangled together, too lost to notice the flashing lights.
When the police siren went off, they both broke apart.
“Shit,” Stiles muttered as he pulled his shirt down and scrambled off of Derek’s lap and into the passenger seat. “Quick, Derek, drive; we’ll lose him in a corn field or something.”
Derek huffed and rolled his eyes. “There’s nowhere for me to go, for one. And two, where the hell is there a corn field? Plus, there’s no way this car would make it out of that corn field.”
Stiles pouted, arms folded over his chest. He didn’t protest, which meant he knew Derek was right.
Instead, they sat there, looking guilty, as one of the Sheriff’s deputies shined a light in their eyes and indicated Derek roll the window down. Derek obliged and willingly gave the deputy his license and registration.
After what felt like an eternity, the deputy finally returned and told them the Sheriff would like to talk to them himself and that the deputy would follow them to the station. Derek could do nothing but agree and steadfastly ignore the groan from Stiles.
All in all, the evening at the station with Stiles’s dad didn’t end too terribly. Stiles was grounded for a week, and Derek was given a warning for the speeding he did when he and Stiles left the house in a hurry. Turns out the Sheriff wasn’t too upset about the dating thing, although he did give what Stiles claimed was an empty threat of arrest if he caught them doing more than making out.
It was incredibly awkward, but he didn’t get shot or arrested and he still got to be with Stiles, which was the best part, according to Stiles.
And really… Derek couldn’t agree more.