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(those sure aren't) tears on my guitar

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Stiles texts Scott for the third time in the hour.

Is Derek home YET?!

Scott shoots back a reply almost instantaneously.


Stiles waits all of about five minutes before texting again.

How about now?

I’ll let you know the instant he gets back if you promise no welcome home sex, Scott responds. Stiles shrugs. He can lie over text, it’s not like Scott can pick up on that.

I promise, he texts, crossing his fingers. Derek had been away on a trip visiting a friend from high school out at her school, and personally, Stiles had been a bit jealous because this particular friend Derek had almost gotten together with.

“To be honest, you’re the only reason why I didn’t get together with her,” Derek had said before he left.

“What’s that even supposed to mean,” Stiles had asked him.

“Remember that one time you asked me to watch Batman with you?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, smiling at the memory. Sandwiches and his favorite superhero—what could be better?

“Well, she had asked me to hang out that day and since I told her that I couldn’t meet up with her, she decided not to ask me out,” Derek had said, smirking a bit as he had leant over the counter to look at his boyfriend. Stiles choked a little bit.

“I’m sorry?” he had said, voice small. Derek frowned, wrapping a hand around Stiles’ wrist.

“Don’t be,” Derek had said. “You’re one of the best things to ever happen to me.”

There may or may not have been sexy times after that.

Stiles anxiously waits another five minutes before his phone vibrates again.

He just came in the door.

Stiles zips out of his room, flies downstairs, and into the garage.

“DerekjustgothomeandI’mgoingtogoseehimbyeDadI’llbehomebeforemidnight,” Stiles says. The Sheriff blinks a couple times.

“Okay,” he says.

Stiles tries really hard not to break any speed limits on the way to Derek’s. He really does. He just can’t help it though. He pulls into the McCall-Hales’ driveway in around seven minutes flat and dashes inside.

“Welcome home!” Stiles says exuberantly before pausing, noticing Derek fiddling with a guitar on his lap. “You play guitar now.”

Derek nods, grinning sheepishly.

“I play guitar now,” he parrots, patting the bed next to him. “I missed you, motor-mouth.”

“What would you do without your favorite superhero?” Stiles preens, pecking Derek on the cheek. Derek rolls his eyes.

“Oh, we both know that Batman’s way better than you,” he ribs. Stiles glares at him.

“I could talk all the fight out of him, and you know it,” he says before leaning against Derek. “Never pegged you as a rocker, though.” Derek puts the guitar down on the ground gently before moving Stiles’ legs over his thighs and ignoring his phone vibrating.

“I don’t need a guitar to rock your world,” he says slyly. Stiles rolls his eyes.

“How long have you been waiting to use that one?” he asks before smiling a little bit as Derek kisses him. Derek’s phone vibrates again. “Aren’t you gonna get that?”

“What, and let my baby brother interrupt welcome home sex? I think not,” Derek says as he pushes Stiles down on his bed.

“Derek!” Scott shouts from his room. “At least shut your door!”

“You shut it if you have a problem!” Derek yells back in between kissing and getting Stiles out of his clothes.

“Stiles, you promised!” Scott whines.

All Stiles manages is an audible “ngguhhhh.” Scott screams a little bit.

“I’m not closing your door, you two are always naked,” he says, voice shrill.

“Deal with it, then,” Derek replies, stripping off his pants.

“Don’t you think you’re being maybe ohmygod a bit harsh?” Stiles asks as Derek strips off the rest of his clothes.

“C’mon. I haven’t seen you in like a whole week and as much as I’d like to not inflate your ego, my right hand is nowhere near as good a replacement as you.”

Stiles blushes.

“That’s sweet?” he says, kissing Derek on the mouth. He hears gagging from the hallway. “Scott, I still have my underwear on, close the door!”

Scott dashes in with a squeak and slams the door shut as he sprints back out. Stiles smirks.

“Your brother is hilarious,” he chuckles, mouthing at Derek’s neck. Derek shivers and tugs at Stiles’ boxers.

“Please, stop talking about Scott while I am taking off your underwear,” he growls. “That’s like sacrilege or something.”

“Creeper’s got jokes,” Stiles snarks as he grabs Derek’s hand and moves it over his butt.

“Brat’s got ass,” Derek rumbles, licking at Stiles’ neck. “Boxers off. Now.”