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If I Tell You My Hell

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Session One.

“So, you don’t want to be here,” Detective Hale glares at him and, great, silence. Because that always works in therapy. “I know you know that you only have to do ten sessions, but if you don’t talk, I have the power to keep you doing these sessions until you do. So, you know, just thought you might want to know that.” Stiles only just holds back a smirk at the way Detective Hale’s face manages to get even angrier. He totally didn’t think that would be possible, but hey, he’s been proved wrong before.

“What do you want me to say?” Detective Hale spits the words out as if they cause him pain.

“I don’t want you to say anything, I want to know what you want to say.”

“Nothing. I don’t want to say anything.”

“Right,” Stiles glances at Detective Hale’s file. “So you think breaking a suspect’s arm is completely normal behaviour?”

Detective Hale shrugs, “He was resisting.”

“And before that delightful incident, you were written up numerous times for excessive force and once for,” Stiles blinks and looks up at Detective Hale. “You threatened to bite a suspect? Seriously?”

“He was a scumbag pimp who liked to mark his girls with a tattoo of a bite mark. He’s lucky I stopped at threatening.”

“Did you ever think that maybe joining the police wasn’t the right path for you? MMA fighter seems like it would’ve been much more your kind of thing.”

Detective Hale glares at Stiles, “I don’t do spandex.”

Stiles nods once, and valiantly ignores his brain attempting to give him the image of Detective Hale in spandex. “Great, good to know. Look, Detective Hale, you don’t seem excessively damaged, which is good, I’m happy for you, but you cannot keep beating up random suspects. No matter how much they might deserve it. Let’s face it, no one will ever be bothered about you beating up creeps who pimp out teenagers, but the truth is, you probably wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Mr. Whittemore making the complaint about his son’s broken arm.”

“Then what’s the damn problem?”

“The problem,” Stiles sighs. “The problem is that you end up here having to talk to me, which you obviously don’t want to do, and I have to take time away from seeing actual patients with actual problems, to deal with a police officer who can’t control his temper. You get that if I give them a reason, they could fire you, right?”

“I know,” Detective Hale’s face tightens and he runs a hand through his hair. It’s the closest thing to an emotion Stiles has seen out of him since he first stepped into the office.

“Okay. So, why did you break Jackson’s arm?”

“Because the little snot almost ran over a kid while driving that fucking sports car. That reason enough for you?”

It’s a good job Stiles has managed to gain some measure of control over his mouth since he was a teenager because, yes, actually, he thinks that is a good reason for breaking Jackson’s arm. Hell, he’s kind of surprised that Detective Hale stopped at one arm. “It’s a reason. That’s good enough for now.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not here to give the brass a reason to fire you, Detective Hale, I’m really not. My dad’s a lifelong cop, I know what you guys go through, know what you see. You, however, seem to need some help dealing with it and, no, that glare on your face is not going to discourage me. You’re really not that scary,” Stiles taps his pen against the notepad on his lap. “Look, I’m not going to make you write a diary and I’m not going to make you tell me about your childhood, unless you want to of course, that’s up to you. The point is, what I want you to do is come away from these sessions with a way to manage the shit you come up against in the job so you don’t end up breaking some rich brat’s arm again and being sent back to me. Think you can work with me on that, Detective Hale?”

Detective Hale’s lips twitch, it’s not a smile, but it distracts Stiles enough that he almost doesn’t catch what the Detective says next. “Can you not call me Detective Hale?”

“What?”

“Don’t - just call me Derek. When you call me Detective Hale I expect my boss to appear and tear me a new one.”

“Okay, I can do that.”

--

Session Two.

“Why’d you become a cop?”

“Isn’t that a little cliché?”

Stiles smirks, “So is deflecting, but I let you get away with it. Come on, humour me, why’d you become a cop?”

“When I was a kid - there were some things that happened. I - the cops that were around were decent to me.”

“A lot of people deal with decent cops, most don’t decide to become one.”

Derek shrugs and avoids Stiles’ eyes, “There wasn’t really anything else I wanted to do and I had to make a living somehow.”

“That’s still not a reason.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk about my childhood?”

“No, I said I wouldn’t make you. You can talk about whatever you want. It’s your session, Derek.” Stiles watches Derek take that in. He’s not stupid, he has his suspicions about what Derek is not saying, but he’s quite aware that Derek is not going to talk about anything if Stiles pushes him.

“You’re not what I thought you’d be like.”

“Thanks.”

“I didn’t say it was a good thing.”

“You’re deflecting again.”

“Yeah,” Derek sits back in the chair, distances himself from Stiles. “There was this teacher when I started high school. She never - not to me, but she tried. There were others who weren’t as lucky as me.”

“Why do you say you were lucky?”

“Because she didn’t touch me. The one time she came close, my sister came rushing into the room - our brother had been in a car accident, he was fine but - Laura, she could tell that something wasn’t right,” Derek clenches his fists, his knuckles white. “She talked to me later and - we went to the Principal together the next day. There were others in the year she’d -” Derek breaks off and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“We can stop if you want.”

“No,” Derek looks up at Stiles and shakes his head. “No. The school did an investigation, called the cops. They treated us like it wasn’t our fault, which - someone can tell you, over and over again, but you don’t believe them, you don’t. They were decent cops, and they helped, especially the kids who she actually - so that’s why I became a cop. Because I thought that maybe I could do for someone what those cops did for me, for us.”

“Okay, that’s enough for today. One last question.”

“What?” Derek’s voice sounds wrecked.

“Cats or dogs?”

“Excuse me?”

“Which do you like better? Cats or dogs?”

Derek raises an eyebrow before answering, “Dogs. What does this have to do with -”

“Nothing. It’s just a better thought to have in your mind when you leave.”

Derek huffs out something that could be a laugh and gets up from the chair. He looks around before shaking his head. “See you next time, Dr. Stilinski.”

--

Session Three.

“You mentioned your family in the last session.”

“Yeah.”

“Want to talk about them?”

“There’s not much to say,” Derek shrugs.

“You the baby of the family?” Stiles wraps his hands around his mug of coffee.

“No, that’s Natalie.”

“How much younger than you is she?”

“Five years,” Derek’s face softens as he talks. “She’s still studying, she likes it, learning things. I don’t think she’ll ever stop.”

“And you have other siblings?”

Derek nods, one leg outstretched along the floor, “Laura and Michael, there’s five years between all of us. Michael’s the eldest, then Laura, then me and then Natalie.”

“You get on with them all?”

“Yeah, I guess. There’s 10 years between Michael and I, so growing up it’s not like - we weren’t close, but it’s better now. Laura’s a pain in my ass, but she’s always there for me, no matter what.”

“What do they do?”

“Michael’s in construction and Laura’s a personal trainer.”

“When you say construction, you do actually mean construction, right? It’s not some kind of code for him being in the mafia?”

Derek glares at Stiles, eyebrows furrowed, “You watch too many movies.”

“You wouldn’t be the first cop with a criminal in the family, I’m just covering my bases.”

“There are no mafia dons in my family.”

“Good,” Stiles grins. “So. What about your parents?”

“Again with the clichés.”

“And again with the deflections. You’re not getting any better at that, by the way. Try being more inventive.”

“Like what? Taking my shirt off?”

“I’m fairly sure I said ‘deflect’ not ‘strip’. Is this something you do often?”

“What?”

“Offer to take off your shirt.”

Derek rolls his eyes, “No. It was a joke.”

“Every joke has something behind it.”

“I’m pretty sure breaking someone’s arm has nothing to do with my jokes.”

“You’re defensive.”

“And you’re trying to make out like my joke has some deeper meaning,” Derek’s voice raises slightly. “It was just a joke.”

“If you say so.”

“This is why I didn’t want to do this.”

“Why?”

“Therapists,” Derek folds his arms and glares across at Stiles. “You all have this need to find some deep meaning in every comment. Sometimes a joke is just a joke.”

Stiles takes a moment and looks at Derek. When Stiles got told he was being sent a cop who had broken someone’s arm, he’d expected a variation on a familiar theme, but Derek is different. There’s something under his skin, and Stiles itches to know what it is. Derek shouldn’t be like this, shouldn’t be so defensive and yet. This isn’t exactly the reason Derek was sent to him, but he wants to dig at it, wants to find whatever it is that makes Derek so defensive and fix it. Stiles wants to fix him. Which is possibly not a good thing, but he’s going to ignore that for now.

“When was the last time you were in a relationship?”

“What does that have to - whatever, you won’t answer, right? It was when I was still in uniform.”

“And why did it end?”

“I’m a cop. We don’t have the best track records with relationships.”

“That’s not a reason. Derek, you know this is a safe space. No judgement. That’s not because this is a therapist’s office, it’s because it’s my office, okay?”

“Yeah. He - I guess I spent too much time at work. I wanted to make Detective and I put in the hours so I could get there as soon as I could.”

“And how long have you been Detective?”

“It’s in my file.”

“But I’m asking you.”

“Three years.”

“And he broke up with you how long before you became Detective?”

“About a year.”

“How many one night stands since then?”

Derek’s cheeks flush ever so slightly and his hands twist together, “You want a number?”

“You can approximate if you want.”

“Yeah - I - a lot. That good enough?”

Stiles nods, “Whatever you’re comfortable with telling me. Have you wanted a relationship?”

“No? My career is - I haven’t thought about it.”

“That’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with casual sex if that’s what you want. If it’s making you happy.”

Derek sinks into silence and slumps down in the chair, legs splayed and arms folded, “And if it’s not making me happy?”

“Then you should think about what would make you happy.”

“How do I know what that is?”

Stiles smiles, “If I knew the answer to that, I’d be out of a job.”

--

Session Four.

“What have you been spending your suspension doing?”

“That’s a strange question.”

“You do remember I’m a therapist, right?” Stiles grins.

Derek laughs, and the look on his face is almost like he didn’t expect to. Stiles is good at lying to himself, so he’s absolutely not finding such a sight adorable. He’s totally going to therapist hell.

“Uh, just normal things I guess.”

“Eating junk food while watching Project Runway?”

Derek frowns, “No. Is that what people do?”

“The no judgement policy in this room includes your therapist,” Stiles waves a hand. “So, if you haven’t been doing those perfectly reasonable activities, what have you been doing?”

“Going to the gym. Reading books I meant to read a long time ago, working on my car.”

“What car do you have?”

“Camaro. Black.”

“It’s like you knew what I was going to ask next.”

“Just don’t suggest it’s compensation for the size of my penis, please.”

“I can honestly say that’s not what I was going to say next. Not every therapist believes in that theory.”

Derek raises an eyebrow and shrugs, “Okay, I believe you.”

“What I was going to say is that it seems a bit impractical for the city. Did you buy it yourself, or was it a gift?”

“Graduation present from my parents. I like cars. I’d inherited Laura’s old car when I got my licence, it was falling apart and I guess they knew it wouldn’t last me through college.”

“So you think it was a practical gift rather than an emotional gift?”

“Can’t it be both?”

“It can, I want to know what you think it was.”

Derek looks away from Stiles, “I think they knew I needed a car for college and they loved me enough to get me one I wanted.”

“Okay.”

--

Interlude.

“Hey, watch where you’re going you idiot, this is hot - Detective Hale?” Stiles blinks up at the man who had just run into him.

“Dr. Stilinski? Sorry, I wasn’t looking - did it get on you?”

“I remain unscalded, which is good since a trip to the emergency room is not something I’m that keen on doing this weekend,” Stiles takes a step to the side. “So, you like this place too?”

“Yeah, I mean, I live up the block,” Derek leans against the wall, coffee clutched in his hand. “It’s been my place since I came to Manhattan.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing, just - I’ve been coming here for a few months, since I moved - I used to have an apartment with my best friend, Scott, but he got married, moved out of the city and I didn’t want to keep the place we had. And, man, you did not want to hear my life story.”

“It’s only fair. You know mine.”

“I’m paid to know yours.”

Derek shrugs, an easy roll of his shoulders, “I don’t mind, Dr. Stilinski.”

“Stiles.”

“What?”

“Don’t call me Dr. Stilinski outside of your - it’s Stiles.”

“That’s not the name on your certificates,” Derek says with a sly grin.

“And if you can pronounce that name, I’ll be impressed, but not even people related to me can do that, so. Stiles.”

Derek nods and takes a sip of his coffee. Stiles can’t help but compare this Derek to the ones he sees in his sessions and there isn’t that much difference. This Derek is a little more relaxed, but Stiles chalks that up to the fact that he’s not interrogating Derek about his life. Stiles knows he shouldn’t be doing this, should’ve just said hello to Derek and then moved on, but he’s always had a soft spot for the difficult ones. And, wow, he really should not be thinking that at all.

“Sorry,” Stiles shakes his head. “Have you got somewhere to be?”

“I was just going for a walk,” Derek straightens up. “You can join me if you want.”

“I would, believe me, I would. But, I’m your therapist. I can’t socialise - it’s nothing to do with you at all, I just can’t.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course, I knew that. Forget it. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“Tuesday, yeah,” Stiles smiles. “Bye Derek.”

Derek waves a hand at him, “Bye Stiles.”

--

Session Five.

“How about you tell me a story about your family?”

“Really?” Derek raises an eyebrow. “I think you’re running out of questions to ask me.”

“I’m a therapist, and I talk a lot, I never run out of questions,” Stiles nods at Derek. “Come on, first story that comes into your mind, tell me.”

“Uh. From when I was a kid?”

“Whatever you want to tell me.”

“Okay. Uh, the summer after I graduated high school, Laura came back from college and took me on a road trip.”

“Where’d you go?”

“All over. My parents live upstate, so we started out there. Took the North route to California, hung out by the beach, took the South route back.”

“So when you say all over you really mean all over?”

Derek laughs, “Yeah. Laura thought I should see the country before I started college. Still ended up in New York, though.”

“Your siblings still around?”

“Natalie, yeah, she’s at Columbia. Laura, she wanted to stay in California after college so she’s still there. Michael used to travel, went where the work was, but when our dad retired, he came home.”

“So Laura was at college in California, came home and then road tripped with you back to California?”

“She wanted to show me the ocean, teach me how to surf.”

“How’d you do?”

“I sucked,” Derek smiles. “But I got better.”

“Is that where you go when you take holiday time?”

The smile fades from Derek’s face. “I don’t really take holiday time.”

“When was the last time you saw your sister?”

“She came home for Christmas.”

“It’s October.”

Derek shrugs, “So I’ll see her in a few months. We Skype.”

“What does she think of your suspension?” Stiles narrows his eyes. “Have you told her?”

“I haven’t told anyone.”

“Why?”

“It hasn’t come up.”

Stiles leans back and looks at Derek, “Really?”

“Really,” Derek clenches his jaw and glares at Stiles.

“You think I’m going to let that go?”

“No,” Derek sighs. “But you can’t blame me for trying.”

“So give in already. Why haven’t you told anyone?”

“After what happened - at the school - my temper. I lost it for a while. Picked fights. My parents were hauled into school more times than I can -” Derek looks away from Stiles. “I worked hard to get my temper under control and it is, mostly. Telling them about this - I don’t want to disappoint them.”

“Are you sure they would be? Or are you just scared to find out?”

Derek continues to stare out of the window, rain drops hit violently and Derek runs a hand through his hair. Stiles doesn’t think he’s pushed Derek too far, he knows it’s possible, but Derek isn’t shutting down, he’s just being stubborn.

Stiles sits forward and sighs, “Ok. This is what I want you to do. Tell Laura before our next session.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You just don’t want to. Derek, your family loves you. Hiding this from them isn’t going to solve anything.”

“There’s nothing to solve.”

“Except that you’re suspended from your job and in mandatory therapy for breaking someone’s arm.”

“That’s not something to solve. I don’t need fixing,” Derek bites out the words, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

“I didn’t say you did. Derek,” Stiles pauses for a moment. “Secrets are bad, silence is worse. You’re here because you channelled your frustration and anger in a bad way. Whether you want to believe it or not, you need to use your words or the next time a suspect gets under your skin, you will lash out again. You’ll break someone else’s arm, or worse. Then you’ll get fired. Not suspended, fired. Want to explain that to your family instead?”

“No.”

“Then tell Laura what’s been going on.”

“Okay,” Derek’s voice is soft and he glances at Stiles. “Okay.”

--

Session Six.

“So, what did Laura say?”

“Why are you so sure I told her?”

“Are you saying you didn’t?”

A grin flashes across Derek’s face quickly, vanishes just as quickly, “No, I did.”

“And?”

“She - she asked if I was okay.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That I was working on it.”

“Do you think she’s disappointed in you?”

“I think she’s worried about me. She asked me if I had any friends.”

“Do you?”

“I have colleagues. We go for drinks after work.”

“If you had to talk to someone at 4am, who would you call?”

“Uh.”

“It’s not a trick question, Derek.”

“Yeah,” Derek digs his fingers into his thigh. “I don’t -”

“Okay. You don’t have to answer.”

Derek shakes his head and looks at the floor, his face blank. They sit in silence for a while, Stiles ruminates on how to approach this. It’s a sad twist on a familiar tale, getting so caught up in work that one day you realise you have nothing outside of it. Stiles can’t judge, wouldn’t anyway. If it hadn’t been for Scott, Stiles doubts he would’ve left his dorm room during college and since Scott moved away with Allison, Stiles has hardly been a social animal. His occasional hook ups aside, he hasn’t met anyone new outside of his patients in a long time.

“It’s not a bad thing, being dedicated to your work,” Stiles shoots Derek a small smile. “Just see if you can make time for something else outside of that.”

“I have things outside work, just not people,” Derek shifts in his chair. “I don’t trust easily. And I don’t like talking to strangers.”

“So it’s your face that gets people to go home with you?” Stiles blurts out without thinking.

“Excuse me?” Derek almost looks amused.

“Oh God, ignore that. Inappropriate therapist comment,” Stiles waves a hand and hopes his face isn’t turning red. “Would you believe my mouth was far worse as a teenager?”

“You know, I think I would.”

“Right. Moving on. More specifically, you moving on. Forget making new friends, your colleagues that you drink with? Any you would be happy seeing more than that?”

“There’s a guy called Boyd, partners with the guy who trained me.”

“So, when you’re back at work, find out if he’d like to do something outside of work. Go and get donuts together.”

“That’s not as funny as you think you it is.”

“Just, try it. Okay?”

“I won’t even still be seeing you when I go back to work.”

“It’s building blocks. What we’re doing in these sessions is giving you a solid foundation. Then, when I release you back into the world, you have the basis to make good, healthy decisions.”

Derek frowns, “You it sound like you’re taming a wild animal.”

“Is this where I remind you that you broke someone’s arm?” Stiles laughs when Derek glares at him. “Look, I’m not calling you an animal, but I am here to give you tools to make positive choices in the future so you don’t end up back here.”

“I’ve only got four sessions left.”

“And you’re doing well.”

“Oh.”

--

Session Seven.

“There’s one thing we haven’t talked about yet that we need to.”

“Which is?”

“The Whittemores.”

Derek groans and kicks his legs out, slumping down into the chair, “What’s there to talk about? The son is an asshole, the dad is a bigger asshole.”

“Lots of people are assholes, you can’t go around breaking all their arms.”

“I could try.”

“Derek...”

“I’m not sorry I did it.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry. I just want you to talk about it.”

“I already gave you a reason. He was driving his damn Porsche around like he owns the city and he almost ran over a kid. That’s not okay.”

“Never said it was. Had you had contact with Jackson Whittemore before that incident?”

“Sure. He’s a self centred brat. Causes fights in upscale bars and leaves before cops get there. We almost managed to charge him last year on drug possession, but his dad made it all go away. He’s a waste of space.”

“So you knew who he was before you broke his arm?”

“It’s hard not to know who he is. He’s the most obnoxious trust fund brat I’ve ever come across.”

“You don’t like him.”

“I don’t think anyone likes him,” Derek rolls his eyes. “I’m not special.”

“But you don’t have the luxury of disliking someone while working. It ends up in situations like this.”

“I would’ve done the same to any other perp if they’d acted like he did.”

“Would you?”

“You’re making it sound like I sought him out to break his arm.”

“You could’ve handed the arrest off to your partner.”

“So?”

“So, you didn’t. You liked the idea of being the one to put cuffs on Jackson, you liked the idea of being the one to bring him in. You really don’t like this kid, valid reasons or not, and it’s damaging your work.”

Derek sighs and scuffs his foot against the floor, “What if that’s true? How do I - I don’t want to lose my job.”

“Put aside the fact that you think he’s an asshole. Why don’t you like him? Out of all the rich kids in New York that get into trouble, why does he annoy you the most?”

“Because he instigates things. He goes out and it’s like he wants to cause trouble.”

“And that makes you angry.”

“When I have to clean up his messes, yeah.”

“Isn’t that your job? Cleaning up other people’s messes?”

“Not like this, not like - we waste time on what he causes. Jackson Whittemore causes a fight in a club and that’s resources wasted, officers and hours wasted, when that time could be used helping people who actually need it.”

Stiles nods and jots a note down, “Okay. That’s enough for today.”

--

Session Eight.

“Ever think about getting a pet?”

“My apartment won’t let me.”

“But if you could?”

“Sure,” Derek shrugs. “I’d like a dog. We had one when I was a kid, he was old. My parents got him before Laura was born, so we grew up with him.”

“How old were you when he died?”

“Summer before I started high school.”

“Can we get back to talking about the Whittemores?”

“You’re in charge.”

“You dislike Jackson because you think he takes time away from people who need cops more -”

“I don’t think he takes that time away, I know he does. Him and his father.”

“Let’s talk about his father.”

“I don’t like lawyers.”

“But you don’t like Mr. Whittemore because he helps his son get away with things.”

“Whittemore doesn’t give a shit about his son. He thinks throwing money at Jackson is good parenting.”

“So you blame Mr. Whittemore for Jackson’s problems? Jackson is a grown man, he can take responsibility for his actions.”

“But he doesn’t. He never has, and his dad has made sure he’ll never have to,” Derek looks away and sighs. “I’ve seen kids who had to grow up when they weren’t even teenagers. They had to deal with things adults shouldn’t have to deal with, let alone kids. And this idiot just refuses to take any responsibility for the chaos he causes, even when it hurts someone else.”

“It sounds like you’re putting your frustrations with your job onto Jackson.”

“I - what?”

Stiles smiles softly, “You wanted to be a cop to help people who were victims, who were hurt by circumstances out of their control, and you’ve ended up cleaning up after rich kids who should know better. So you’ve focused on the worst one and put all your anger on him. Which is understandable. Unhealthy, but understandable.”

“That’s -” Derek breaks off and chuckles, a wry smile on his face. “Yeah, you got me. That makes sense.”

“You don’t have to look so surprised, I don’t have this job because of my pretty face.”

Derek raises an eyebrow and smirks, “Really?”

“Let’s move on. You’re frustrated with the fact you can’t do what you wanted to do with your job. Do you want to quit? Do something else?”

“No. No, I want to be a cop. I want to keep doing my job.”

“So you need something outside of that. You have more holiday time than you take, you work as many hours as you can before being kicked out of your squad room, don’t glare at me, you know that I have your information. Derek, you need an outside activity.”

“You’re taking entirely too much pleasure in this.”

“We only have two sessions left. I want you to take some time and look into something you’d like to do in your spare time. Something that will help you do what you want to do, help people who need it. Come to the next session with some ideas, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

--

Interlude.

“Stiles?”

Stiles looks up from the fresh cinnamon buns on the stall and glances in the direction of the voice. “Derek, hey. You’re - sweaty.”

Derek laughs, “My gym’s a few blocks away. I stop through here when I leave if it’s a market day.”

“Yeah, because what everyone wants to do after a workout is fight through this,” Stiles waves a hand at the crowds.

“I’m a masochist,” Derek shrugs, an easy smile on his face. “Is it okay that I said hi? I’m not breaking any rules, right?”

“Relax, Derek, New York’s a small place, I bump into clients a lot. Most don’t want to speak to me outside the office though.”

“Really?”

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles runs a hand over his head. “I don’t think many people want to acknowledge their therapist in public.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

“Yet you don’t seem to have that problem,” Stiles grins.

“I have an end date for this.”

“True,” Stiles takes the bag of muffins from the seller. “You’re okay with it?”

“Having an end date? Sure. I want to get back to my regular life.”

“That makes sense,” Stiles stops at the edge of the sidewalk and turns to look at Derek.

Derek rubs a hand against the back of his neck, “I would ask if you want to grab lunch, but I think I’ve probably already pushed the limit of the no socialising rule, right?”

“I think so.”

Derek adjusts the gym bag on his shoulder and nods, “Okay then. See you next time, Stiles.”

“See you, Derek,” Stiles watches Derek walk briskly away until he vanishes into the crowds. Damn. Not for the first time Stiles wants to smack his head against a fire hydrant. He’s never, not ever, violated a patient’s trust by thinking about them in a less than professional way, but Derek. Derek is the closest he’s come to breaking all the rules. Stiles kind of hates himself a little.

--

Session Nine.

“Have you come up with any ideas?”

“Uh, yeah. There’s a community center a few blocks away from my apartment, I stopped in yesterday and asked if there was anything I could do.”

“And?”

“They said they’d had people asking for self defense classes, nothing serious, just so that they’d feel safer on their way home.”

“Is that something you want to do?”

“I’d be helping people who need it, and it’s something I can do.”

Stiles smiles, “So you’re going to do it?”

“I’ve got an appointment to discuss setting it up with the guy who runs the center, so it’s a little late to back out now.”

“You’ve done well. Can I assume you won’t be breaking anyone’s arm in the near future?”

“I’ll do my best,” Derek smirks. “But I can’t promise anything.”

“You’re lucky I’ve adapted and know you’re joking.”

“And you’re not even analysing it.”

“I could if you want.”

“Please don’t.”

Stiles sighs, “I’ll spare you this time, as a reward for doing so well.”

“No one said I’d get rewards.”

“One time only thing. Seriously Derek, you’ve made a lot of progress during these sessions. If you can keep it up without me, you’ll be fine.”

“So I still need to come to my last session?”

“It’s required. You know I can’t sign off without you completing all the sessions.”

--

Session Ten.

“You look happy. Is it just because your sessions are up?”

Derek shakes his head and smiles, “Laura’s coming back before Christmas, and she’s staying for a while afterwards as well.”

“What about her work?”

“She said she’s made enough money to take a break, so she passed her clients off to other trainers, rented her place out and made arrangements to come back.”

“Sounds like your sister works fast when she puts her mind to it.”

Derek chuckles, “You could say that.”

“When does she get here?”

“Second week of November. She’s going to stay with our parents, but she’s threatening to come and crash on my couch as well.”

“And of course you don’t want that to happen, right?”

“Laura’s my older sister, it’s the law to complain about older sisters.”

“You think that’s part of the law? I think I’ve realised where you ran into problems at work.”

“Funny.”

Stiles grins, “Glad you realised that, I don’t usually get to show it at work.”

“For a therapist, you don’t seem to recognise sarcasm.”

“I chose to ignore it.”

“I don’t think therapists should ignore anything their patients say.”

“Is that right?”

Derek nods and ducks his head, “Yeah, it is.”

“Interesting thought. One that my bosses would probably agree with.”

Derek doesn’t respond to that, he laughs a little and keeps his eyes on the floor. Stiles looks him over, Derek is looser than he was at the start of these sessions. For the first few sessions, Stiles was convinced Derek would dig his fingernails through his own skin in an effort not to talk. Pulling words from Derek had been like getting his dad to stay away from red meat; almost impossible and requiring the use of devious tactics.

“So, your last session. Anything you want to talk about that we haven’t?”

“I don’t think so.”

Stiles glances at the clock, “Well, we’ve still got time until this is over for good.”

“Can I ask you questions?”

“Oh,” Stiles’ eyes widen. “Okay. I reserve the right to not answer.”

“Where did you grow up? You’re not a native New Yorker, right?”

“I’m not, I grew up just outside Boston, my dad’s still there. I go back sometimes.”

“What do you do when you’re not working?”

“Go and harass my best friend and his wife,” Stiles laughs and runs a hand through his hair. “I read, gorge on TiVo and Netflix. Catch up with people I know.”

“Do you have a pet?”

“Just like you, my building won’t let me have one. But I’d like a dog. Is that all you want to know?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

Stiles narrows his eyes. He’s not convinced by that, Derek’s tapping his fingers against his thigh and Stiles has come to notice that Derek only does that when he doesn’t want to talk about something. Stiles wants to know - and it’s nothing professional, he just wants to know everything about Derek, but he’s going to let it slide this once. “Okay then. I guess we’re done.”

Derek gets out of the chair and takes a step towards Stiles, “I’d say it’s been a pleasure, but -”

Stiles stands up and laughs, “Yeah, time spent with a therapist isn’t fun for everyone.”

“There are people it is fun for?” Derek raises an eyebrow. “Thank you, Dr. Stilinski. I think I owe you my job.”

“You’re a good cop,” Stiles shrugs. “We need good cops.”

A small smile appears on Derek’s face, “That’s - thanks. Really.”

Stiles watches Derek as he turns to leave and, man, this should not be this hard, “Derek, hey, wait.”

Derek pauses with his hand on the doorknob, “Yeah?”

“I -” Stiles cuts himself off. He can’t do this, he’d be breaking more rules and laws than he can think of.

“Stiles?”

“Nothing. I just - good luck, Derek.”

Derek nods before he walks out the door. Stiles waits a moment before he sits back in his chair. He buries his face in his hands and sighs. Great, just great. His professional reputation stays intact while his most promising option for any kind of personal life just walked out of his life. Because that’s how his life is. Stiles groans, he should really move to an apartment that will allow pets. At least then he could have a dog to cuddle.

--

December 20th.

Stiles is still looking for a Christmas present for his dad, he’s quite aware this makes him a terrible son, but he’s at a loss. His life would be so much easier if his dad would give in to the 21st century and make a wishlist on Amazon, it really would. Most days Stiles is still amazed he managed to teach his dad how to use Skype. So, in order to not drive himself insane, he’s taking a totally valid break to gaze up at the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center. It’s touristy, sure, but Stiles - there’s still a part of him that isn’t a New Yorker. Part of him that won’t ever belong to anywhere but home. He takes a peek at the brave souls skating around the ice rink, an absent minded smile tugging at his lips as he clutches his hot chocolate. Stiles isn’t sure how long he stands there, but he almost gasps when he catches a glimpse of a familiar face on the ice.

Derek’s a surprisingly graceful skater, Stiles doesn’t know why that’s surprising aside from the fact that Derek doesn’t look like he should be able to skate like that. Stiles idly wonders if Derek had lessons as a child and, heh, the idea of a tiny Derek being taught how to ice skate is ridiculously cute. He should leave before Derek sees him, but - it’s been months and Stiles still thinks about him, thinks about him a little too much if Stiles is honest. Stiles pulls his scarf a little tighter as he tracks Derek’s movements, notices as Derek signals to a woman a little further down the ice and makes his way off the rink. It’s not like it’s a plan to catch up with Derek, but Stiles is pretty sure his legs are moving without his permission and he’s there, waiting, when Derek finishes returning his skates. Stiles’ throat goes dry when Derek sees him, Stiles knows that the freaking amazing smile lighting up Derek’s face has something to do with that, and all he can do is wave a gloved hand at him.

“Stiles,” Derek hustles towards him, wrapped up in a leather jacket with a soft looking sweater underneath. “What are you - I mean, hi.”

Stiles laughs, “Hi yourself, I’m taking a break from trying not to be the most predictable son on the face of the earth.”

“Christmas shopping?”

“Yeah,” Stiles shrugs. “My dad refuses to be helpful and tell me what he wants, or needs, and I refuse to get him a tie or socks so. I’m kind of stuck.”

“And you were hoping that staring at ice skaters would help you think of something?”

“That and the hot chocolate, don’t forget the hot chocolate.”

“Ah, of course.”

Stiles nods and takes a sip of his hot chocolate, using it as an excuse to glance at Derek. He’s not even convinced he needs to talk here, Stiles is sadly satisfied just by being in Derek’s presence and, yes, it’s possible that he’s a little more gone than he wants to admit. Stiles is just about to say something when the woman Derek was signalling to on the ice comes up behind Derek and slings an arm over his shoulder.

“Hey baby brother, who’s your friend?”

Derek’s cheeks flush and he rolls his eyes, “Laura, Stiles. Stiles, Laura.”

“Oh, your sister?” Stiles shakes Laura’s hand. “Hi, Derek said you’d be around before Christmas.”

Laura narrows her eyes at Derek, “How do you know each other again?”

“He’s the therapist the department sent me to.”

“So you’re the infamous Dr. Stilinski?”

“I don’t know about infamous, but I am Dr. Stilinski. Call me Stiles, or else I’ll feel like making you sit on a couch to tell me about your childhood.”

“Is that what you did with Derek?” Laura says with a wicked grin.

Stiles doesn’t know how, but somehow she makes that sound filthy, “Um, I can’t really - confidentiality. We take it kind of seriously.”

“Relax Stiles, I’m just teasing.”

Derek clamps a hand on her shoulder, “And now you’re going to stop, right Laura?”

“It’s cute that you think you can tell me what to do, Derek,” Laura smirks. “So, Stiles, are you around for the holiday?”

“Kind of? I’m going home for Christmas, but my dad goes back to work on the 28th, so I’ll be back for New Years.”

Laura wriggles out from under Derek’s grip and hits him on the shoulder, “Derek, you should invite him to the party.”

“Laura, are you brain dead?” Derek glares at her. “He can’t - I was his patient - there are rules.

“But he’s not your therapist anymore, right? And I’m sure if you assault someone else, you can request to go to a different therapist.”

Stiles blinks, his mind attempts to follow the conversation and, okay, this is just strange, “Uh, technically Laura’s right. It’s not - well you’re a special case.”

“I’ve been telling him that since he was born.”

“Shut up, Laura.”

Laura pats Derek on the arm, “Shush baby brother, I’m doing a good thing here. So you’ll come to the party, right? It’s upstate, at our parent’s house, they do it every year. Derek here normally skips out and works instead, but he’s actually given in this year and I think you might have something to do with it.

Stiles shrugs and smiles a little, “Just doing my job.”

“Uh huh,” Laura grins at him. “Give Derek your number and he’ll sort out getting you to the house. I’m going to go and get a hot chocolate.”

Laura walks off and Stiles kind of feels like he was in the middle of a tornado. Everything felt quiet and calm, but he knows it caused chaos somewhere. He looks at Derek, there’s still a faint flush on his cheeks and he looks like he wants to kill something. Hopefully not Stiles.

“So that’s your sister? Gotta tell you, I think I regret telling you to talk to her.”

Derek laughs, “Laura’s - well, she’s Laura. We’ve never been able to describe her in a way that won’t get us hit.”

“I can see that.”

“Look, she kind of railroaded you. If you don’t want to come to the party, you don’t have to,” Derek rubs a hand against the back of his neck. “It’s not a big deal, it’s mostly just drinking and eating. We do fireworks as well.”

“Free food and drink and things that explode? If you don’t want me to come, you’re going about it the wrong way.”

“It’s not - I don’t want you to feel like you have to come.”

Stiles shrugs and smiles, “I didn’t really have plans anyway, Scott and Allison are going to be with her parents, so I was just going to watch bad tv.”

“Okay,” Derek pulls out his phone. “Give me your number.”

Stiles rattles it off and enjoys the warmth that spreads through his body when Derek instantly texts him. “Great. Okay, well, I have to go and try not to be an awful son, so I’ll leave you to chase your sister down. See you when I get back to the city?”

“Count on it,” Derek squeezes Stiles’ arm gently before he disappears into the crowd.

--

December 26th

“You waiting for a call, Stiles?”

“Huh?” Stiles looks up at his dad and frowns. “What?”

“Why can’t you go five minutes without checking your phone?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Right,” John shifts on his armchair. “Far be it for my only son to share details about his life with me.”

“Dad, come on. It’s not - if there was anything significant to say, I’d let you know.”

“But there’s something?”

Stiles groans and slumps back into the couch, “Maybe. I don’t know. He’s - it’s - possibly? How can I be this old and still suck at this?”

“It’s got nothing to do with age, Stiles, human interactions are a mystery for most people. Hell, if your mother hadn’t smacked me over the head with a clue stick, you wouldn’t exist.”

Stiles smiles and shakes his head, “I don’t know if what I - if it’s like what you and mom had.”

“But?”

“But maybe? I want to find out. There’s something - when you met mom, did you know?”

John sighs and puts his mug on the coffee table, “I didn’t know she’d be the love of my life, if that’s what you’re asking. The first time I saw her, I would’ve been happy to just be in her presence for as long as she would let me. Then I talked to her and she - she had me. She fascinated me. Never stopped fascinating me.”

“I asked her once why she married you,” Stiles clears his throat and grins. “She said she liked your hair.”

“She was a romantic,” John shakes his head and laughs. “Stiles, you know that she’d want you to be happy, right? No matter who it was with. That goes for me as well.”

“Yeah. Thanks dad.”

“Okay,” John nods and gets up. “I think that’s enough Stilinski male bonding for tonight. Beer?”

“Beer,” Stiles pumps a fist in the air. “Think we should have a couple of turkey deluxe leftover sandwiches?”

“I do. Just like your mother used to make, right?”

Stiles smiles as he follows his dad into the kitchen, “Got to keep the tradition.”

--

December 31st

Stiles has possibly been looking at his wardrobe for an hour. Possibly. He’s not admitting to anything. A quick glance at the clock makes him realise that he barely has any time before Derek arrives and Stiles is pretty sure still being in his boxers will be a dealbreaker for anything he wants to happen. Not that he’s been thinking about anything happening with Derek. Except he has. Constantly. And, oh, that’s not a good train of thought to go down if he wants to get dressed.

He’s finally ready by the time Derek texts him that he’s outside. When Stiles steps out of the block he lets out a low whistle because, damn, that is a nice car. Derek’s smiling hesitantly at him from the drivers seat and Stiles hurries round to get in the car. He flings a bag into the backseat and grins at Derek as he pulls away from the sidewalk.

“Please tell me you have snow tires on this, admittedly amazing, car?”

“Stiles, I’m not going to kill you.”

“That’s reassuring,” Stiles says. “So, how many members of your family am I going to be meeting? Are they all like Laura?”

“Uh - I don’t know. Laura, Natalie and Michael will be there, Michael’s family, Laura might bring someone, Natalie won’t - even if there is anyone, she’ll try and keep them away from the family for as long as possible.”

“Seems a smart decision. Laura kind of scared me,” Stiles pretends to shudder.

Derek chuckles, “You handled it well.”

“I did?”

“You didn’t run off screaming.”

“Has that - you know what, no, I don’t want to know. Ignorance is bliss in this case.”

“Wise choice. I think my parents will have some friends there, and I guess there might be some of the kids we grew up with.”

“So I could get tales of Derek as a kid?” Stiles laughs. “Oh I’m so looking forward to tonight.”

Derek shakes his head and glances over at Stiles, “Funny, because I’m already regretting this.”

“No you’re not,” Stiles says softly.

“Oh really?”

“Yep. You’ve got a tell when you lie.”

“No I don’t.”

“I spent many hours watching you, I can read you like a book. Not an easy book, but a big, complicated book.”

“Well,” Derek grins, “It’s nice to know you don’t think I’m easy.”

Stiles laughs, his eyes wide as he looks at Derek. Derek looks back at him for a moment, a slight smile skating across his face before he looks back at the road. Stiles can’t help the warm feeling that spreads across his body as Derek lets out a low chuckle.

--

They pull up to the house, Derek parks the car behind an old Toyota and stops for a moment. Stiles turns to him and raises an eyebrow, “So are we getting out?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just -”

“What?”

“They might assume things,” sighs Derek. “Laura will probably have told them - she can exaggerate. So this is me, apologising beforehand incase any of them make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Derek - okay, you know I’m a big fan of talking things out, that’s kind of my job, right? So, yeah, Laura might’ve told them some things that aren’t true right now, but I’m not reading this wrong, am I? It’s not like they’ll never be true, right?” Stiles bites his lip.

“You’re not reading this wrong.”

“Good, great even,” Stiles says. “So, are we going in?”

Derek smiles and nods his head towards the house, where a tall girl is waving her hands at the car, “That’s Natalie. You sure you’re up for meeting everyone?”

“I fear nothing.”

“We’ll see,” Derek leans over and presses his lips against Stiles’ in a chaste kiss.

“That helps,” Stiles murmurs when Derek pulls away.

“I thought it would.”

“Smug bastard.” Stiles knows that came out more fond than anything, and he’s fine with that, really he is. He’ll be fine with anything as long as he gets to kiss Derek again.

They get out of the car, bags in hand, and Stiles follows Derek to the door. Natalie runs down the path and leaps onto Derek, knocking him backwards into the snow. She gives him a hug before she stands up and smiles at him sheepishly.

“Oops.”

Derek glares up at her. “Oops? Really, Nat?” He scrambles to his feet and picks up his dropped bag. “You’re lucky I know what you’re like and have extra clothes in my bag.”

“See, if I hadn’t jumped on you, you would’ve been disappointed.”

“Not quite the word I would’ve used.”

“Whatever,” Natalie rolls her eyes. “Is this Stiles?”

“That depends on what you’ve heard about me,” Stiles says.

Natalie grins, “Oh I think I’ll like you.”

“Now I’m worried.”

--

Stiles loves Derek’s family home, and he knows that’s probably a bit creepy to say already, but he can deal with being creepy because this house is awesome. He loves where he grew up, he does, but - it was just him and his dad after his mom died and - it was lonely. Their house wasn’t huge, it was big enough for them, but when his dad was working it felt empty. He can’t imagine anyone ever feeling lonely at the Hale house. There’s so many of them, not just Derek and his siblings, but cousins that seem as at home here as Derek does. Laura wasn’t exaggerating about Derek not coming back here for these parties, Derek can’t take two steps without a kid attempting to hang off his legs. It’s ridiculously cute, really and Stiles isn’t quite sure what to do with that. He laughs as Derek grabs his nephew and slings him over his shoulders, walking quickly to the family room to deposit him on Michael’s lap.

Laura sidles up beside Stiles and graces him with a wicked grin, “So Natalie told me something interesting.”

“Really.”

“Said that Derek kissed you in the car before you came in the house.”

“Is that so?” Stiles smirks.

“Come on Stiles, give me something,” whines Laura.

Stiles raises his eyebrows and shrugs.

Laura narrows her eyes at him, “I’ll get something out of you later,” she mutters as she stomps off.

“You keep thinking that,” Stiles calls after her with a grin on his face. He takes a swig of his beer and glances around the room. It’s cosy here, and he doesn’t feel out of place at all. Derek’s family have all treated him like, well, like family. He’s kind of wondering how long it’s been since Derek brought anyone home, he’s well aware that this could possibly be considered their first date and it’s so not normal to meet someone’s parents on a first date, but considering how he and Derek met, Stiles isn’t so concerned with normal.

“Hey,” Derek comes up behind him and rests a hand against Stiles’ neck. “You good?”

“Uh huh, yeah,” Stiles turns around to face Derek. “I like it here.”

Derek’s face lights up, a small smile on his face and Stiles’ face matches it as he places his hands on Derek’s hips, leans into his warmth. Derek’s hand is a light pressure against his neck and Stiles sighs happily as Derek’s other hand taps a pattern against the small of his back.

“You two make quite the cute couple,” comes a voice from behind Stiles.

“Hi mom,” says Derek, a slight flush appearing at the base of his neck.

Stiles turns to face her, Derek’s hands move as he does so, his arms ending up wrapped around Stiles’ waist. “Hi, Mrs. Hale.”

“Stiles, I told you to call me Ann,” she says as she pats his cheek. “We’re starting the fireworks soon and, while I’m sure my son is very cosy, you should really get your winter gear.”

“Mom, stop it,” whines Derek.

Ann smirks, not unlike her daughter. “It’s good to know I can still embarrass my children.”

“Mission accomplished,” Derek mutters as she walks off.

“You know,” Stiles says. “I can see where Laura gets it from.”

Derek laughs and squeezes Stiles slightly before letting go, “Come on, let’s go and put more clothes on.”

“That’s kind of the opposite of what I wanted to happen tonight.”

“Later,” Derek says before he takes Stiles’ hand and pulls him through the groups of people.

“Totally holding you to that.”

--

The fireworks are stunning, so much so that Stiles worries he may well be around a family of pyrotechnics. If that is true, Stiles will worry about it later because right now he has Derek wrapped around him like an extra layer and a mug of the best hot chocolate he’s tasted outside of City Bakery. He’s perfectly content in a way he hasn’t been for quite some time. Stiles watches the lights play across the faces of the kids and leans back into Derek some more. Derek’s lips brush against Stiles’ cheek, the one part of his skin exposed to the elements and Stiles shivers.

“Only a little longer and then we can go back inside.”

“Uh huh, and then what?”

“And then we watch the ball drop,” Derek whispers in his ear. “And then we kiss, and then we say our goodbyes and go upstairs.”

“I like this plan,” Stiles sighs.

“I thought you would.”

Stiles can feel Derek smiling against his skin as the last fireworks go off. Derek’s dad tells everyone to get back to the house for the countdown and the older kids run ahead, the younger ones are drooping. Stiles finds his arms full of tiny child, handed off to him by Michael’s wife and he smiles at the toddler as she wraps her arms around his neck. Derek rests a hand at the small of Stiles’ back and Stiles would swear he can actually feel his heart swell.

Everyone stomps the snow off their boots and takes off their outdoor gear, piling in front of the television. Derek’s leaning against the wall at the back of the room talking to his dad and Stiles enjoys watching him for a moment. Derek looks up after a while and beckons Stiles over when he catches his eyes. Stiles heads towards him and slips right against Derek’s side when Derek lifts his arm up. Mr. Hale smiles indulgently at them and whispers something to Derek that makes him laugh, before he shakes Stiles’ hand and walks over to his wife.

Stiles rests his head against Derek’s shoulder as they watch the scenes from Times Square. Derek’s fingers slip underneath Stiles’ shirt when the countdown starts, he taps as each number passes. Stiles lets Derek pull him around until they’re facing each other, Derek mouthing the last few numbers until they hit the last few. The room cheers and Stiles knows they must be loud, there’s so many of them, but it’s background noise as Derek’s mouth meets his. All Stiles can hear is the rushing of blood in his ears and the only things he’s aware of are Derek’s fingers as they twist in his hair, the faint taste of cinnamon from the hot chocolate and how solid Derek’s body feels against him. When Stiles comes back to himself he hears Laura’s voice cat calling.

“Derek, there are still children here, you know.”

Derek pulls away and glares at Laura before he turns back to Stiles, “Happy New Year.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says. “Happy New Year.”

“Ugh, I might vomit.”

“Laura,” Ann calls. “Stop teasing your brother before I get out the photos of you as an exhibitionist toddler.”

“Fine,” sighs Laura. “I’m heading to bed anyway.”

Laura’s decision sparks something in the rest of the group because they all start to head off to bed. Stiles gets more hugs than he has in a long time, and he ends up sitting on the couch with Derek as they watch everyone traipse off. Once the last person has left, Stiles looks down at Derek’s head in his lap. Derek’s face is relaxed, Stiles traces a finger along Derek’s nose and holds back a laugh when Derek’s eyes attempt to watch, making him go cross eyed. His finger carries on, runs across the curve of Derek’s lips and Stiles does laugh when Derek attempts to bite at his finger. Stiles taps him on the forehead, “No biting,” he says sternly.

“Not ever?” Derek asks, a smirk on his face.

“That - that can be discussed. In a more private arena.”

“I can arrange that.”

“Oh I know you can.”

--

Stiles isn’t quite sure how they make it upstairs without running into one of Derek’s relatives, or indeed Laura, who Stiles was convinced would be camping out in the hallway waiting for them. If it weren’t for the fact that no one knew what room he and Derek would be staying in until they got to the house, Stiles would be paranoid that Laura had installed hidden cameras. Stiles is trying really hard not to think about Laura’s borderline creepy interest in her brother’s love life for fear of putting himself off sex forever. And, really, with Derek sprawled across the sheets like he is, Stiles does not want than to happen. Derek’s mostly naked, clothes discarded as soon as they entered the room, and Stiles - Stiles is trying really hard not to let his brain melt out of his ears. Stiles pulls his shirt off and climbs onto the bed, stretching out over Derek who sucks in a breath when their skin touches.

Derek tugs at Stiles’ pants, “You’re overdressed.”

“And you’re demanding,” says Stiles as he rolls off Derek and shucks his pants off. “Better?”

“Much,” Derek pulls Stiles on top of him again and mouths at Stiles’ neck, his head ducks lower and he runs a tongue along Stiles’ clavicle.

Stiles cants his hips and groans as he feels Derek’s cock hardening in his boxers. Derek’s hands slide down Stiles’ back and slip inside his boxers, pulling Stiles flush against him. Stiles’ head drops down, his forehead resting against Derek’s chest. He darts his tongue out and licks at the skin he finds. “Derek,” he mumbles into Derek’s sweaty skin. “We’re both going to come in our underwear like teenagers if we don’t -”

“Yeah, yeah.” Derek lets go of Stiles and watches with greedy eyes as Stiles pushes his boxers off.

“You should be joining me in this, you know.”

Derek grins and pulls his boxers down, kicking them off from around his ankles. “Come here,” he says.

Stiles bites his lip and nods, almost trips over his own limbs as he climbs on top of Derek. “Fuck, Derek, I -” his eyes flutter as Derek’s hands grasp his ass again, their cocks rutting against each other. Derek cranes his head up and captures Stiles’ lower lip, biting down gently before Stiles pulls his head back and meets Derek’s eyes. Slowly, deliberately, Stiles rolls his hips and smiles as Derek moans, his hands falling to the bed. “What do you want, Derek?”

“You,” Derek gasps out. “Just - you.”

“You’ve got me,” Stiles plasters himself against Derek, his hands cradling Derek’s head. “Hey, you got me,” he kisses Derek close mouthed, once, twice, three times. “You’ve always got me.”

“Yeah?” Derek stares at him, eyes wide.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck - Stiles.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Stiles says, a grin on his face. “You want?”

“I want - have you got?”

Stiles climbs off the bed and searches through his bag, flinging clothes across the room until he finds the condoms and lube he optimistically threw in there when packing. He throws them on the bed and laughs when they hit Derek in the chest. “Sorry.”

Derek shakes his head and pulls Stiles back on top of him. “You good like this?”

“Yeah,” Stiles sits up and hands Derek the lube. “Come on.” Derek unscrews the lid and coats his fingers, Stiles leans forward slightly and sighs as Derek starts to push a finger in. Stiles rocks back a little and groans as Derek’s finger slips deeper. He can feel Derek’s eyes on him as he moves, and he looks down at Derek, nods when he feels another finger pressing against him. “Fuck, yes - Derek, keep - oh,” Stiles bites his lip when Derek scissors his fingers. “Yeah, shit - yeah.”

“Stiles, I can’t - condom,” Derek bites out, working a third finger inside Stiles. “You -”

“Yes, okay - shit,” Stiles sighs when Derek’s fingers leave him and his hands scrabble around for the box of condoms. He scoots down Derek’s legs and unwraps one, slides it on Derek’s cock, grabs the lube and strokes him a few times until Derek swears.

“You keep doing that, this will be over already.”

Stiles grins and crawls back up Derek’s body, leans down to kiss him as Derek’s hands run along Stiles’ thighs. He closes his eyes and just enjoys the feel of Derek’s hands on him for a moment before he sits back up. Stiles’ ass brushes against Derek’s cock and he breathes in sharply, “Derek, Derek - please.”

“Yeah,” Derek holds his cock as Stiles lowers himself. “Shit - Stiles -”

“Just - give me a minute.” Stiles inches down, and - fuck - he’s missed this. And Derek - Derek is perfect. Stiles can’t believe how tightly Derek is holding himself, his body is coiled and Stiles - Stiles wants him to let go, knows that when he does this will be so good, so fucking good. Derek rocks his hips up, Stiles pushes down and - yes, yeah that’s it. Stiles lets out a moan as he sinks down completely, he blinks and looks down at Derek. Derek’s pupils are blown, his breathing heavy and Stiles has never seen a more attractive sight. Stiles’ places his hands against Derek’s chest and uses the leverage to push himself up before sinking back down. Stiles does this until he’s fully relaxed, he gets faster as he goes, until Derek puts his hands on Stiles’ hips and stalls him.

“Let me -” Derek sits up with Stiles, pulls at Stiles’ legs until they’re wrapped around Derek. “Yeah.” He puts an arm around Stiles’ waist and lifts him slightly, tips him back until he’s lying down with Derek over him.

“Oh - oh yeah.” Stiles stretches his arms up, holds on to the edge of the bed.

Derek nips at Stiles’ neck. “You good?”

“So good,” Stiles taps his legs against Derek’s ass. “But I - oh - could be better.”

Derek doesn’t answer, just starts moving and, Stiles - he can live with this for sure. Derek is all over Stiles, kisses placed on every bit of his skin Derek can find. He’s going slow, gentle thrusts, dragging against Stiles and it’s glorious torture. Stiles sighs each time Derek pulls out and he can’t - he loves this, he does - but he wants more. Needs more.

“Derek, I won’t - fuck - I won’t break,” Stiles bites out.

“Uh huh,” Derek pushes back in and mouths at Stiles’ jaw. “You sure?”

“So sure.”

And that’s it, Derek goes to fucking town on Stiles, his hips start moving faster and Stiles grasps at Derek’s shoulders. His cock rubs against Derek’s abs with every thrust, the slickness of pre-come making it wetter, hotter and Stiles can feel his orgasm building. Stiles’ fingers dig into Derek’s back, his head flung back as Derek bites at the base of his neck and, fuck, fuck that’s it. Stiles lets out a whine and comes, Derek fucking him through it. Derek presses his lips against Stiles’ neck and places kisses against the skin until Stiles’ breathing evens out.

“Keep going,” Stiles mutters. “Want to feel you come.” Stiles is over-sensitive, and he won’t be able to come again so soon, but Derek feels so good inside him, makes Stiles feel like he’s been turned inside out, every nerve ending exposed and at Derek’s mercy. He clutches at Derek’s body as Derek keeps fucking him and he swallows a yell when Derek’s hips stutter. Stiles feels Derek’s cock pulse inside him and fuck, Derek’s saying his name, his hips still thrusting lazily, sending shivers through Stiles’ body.

“That was -” Derek mumbles against Stiles’ skin.

“Yeah,” Stiles breathes out. He winces slightly as Derek pulls out and his eyes track Derek’s movements as he ties the condom off and puts it in the trash. Stiles can’t stop watching Derek, pouts a little when Derek walks into the en-suite and grabs a flannel. Derek cleans them up before he throws the flannel onto the floor and curls around Stiles.

“You do realise we’re at the wrong end of the bed, right?”

“So?”

“We’re also naked.”

“Yeah,” sighs Stiles, happily.

“It’s January.”

“We’re indoors.”

Derek laughs, “Stiles, just get under the blankets with me.”

Stiles cracks an eye open and smiles at Derek, “Are you saying you want to snuggle, Derek?”

“Shut up.”

“I mean, obviously we were working on getting you in touch with your emotions, but I never thought that you -” Stiles breaks off when Derek kisses him, which, yeah, that’s a perfect way of getting Stiles to agree with absolutely anything Derek wants.

Derek pulls back and smirks at Stiles. He moves towards the head of the bed, laughs as Stiles follows him eagerly. Stiles curls up while Derek tugs the blankets over and around them before he settles down next to Stiles, a hand resting on Stiles’ hip. A contented sigh escapes Stiles’ lips as he moves closer to Derek, their legs tangling together. Stiles closes his eyes when he feels Derek press a kiss against his forehead. “Go to sleep, Stiles.”

“Uh huh.”

--

January 1st

Stiles stirs when he hears a thudding noise against the door. “No, s’early. No get up,” he mumbles against Derek’s skin. He twitches when Derek laughs beneath him, a low rumble in his chest. The thudding against the door continues and Stiles sighs.

“Hey, lazy guts! Wake up in there.”

“Go away Laura,” Derek calls. “We’ll get breakfast later. Also, I locked the door.”

Laura kicks the door, “Derek, that’s not playing fair.”

“It’s funny how you think I care.”

“Ugh. Fine. Remember to put clothes on,” she yells before Stiles hears her walking away.

Stiles lifts his head from Derek’s chest and looks at him, “Morning?”

“Uh huh,” Derek tightens his grip on Stiles and smiles. “Hi.”

“Hi. So, do we have to get out of bed?”

“Why? Can you think of something else we could be doing?”

Stiles moves against Derek slowly, enjoys the drag of his cock against Derek’s skin. “I have a few ideas.”

Derek throws his head back against the pillow and groans. “Okay, I see your - your point here, but - fuck.”

“But?” Stiles licks at Derek’s chest.

“But there’s a bathroom right there, with a really huge tub.”

“Ohhh,” Stiles sits up and throws the blankets off them both. “Yes.”

“Yes?” Derek rubs a hand over his face.

“Yes. Yes, we’re using that tub. I only have a shower at my apartment, I’m not giving this up.”

“Oh I see,” Derek says as he gets off the bed and stands up. “You’re just interested in the tub.”

Stiles stays sitting on the bed and reaches for Derek, tugs at his arms until Stiles can press his face against Derek’s abdomen. He kisses above Derek’s belly button and grins up at him. “It’s not just the tub.”

“Yeah. I know,” Derek runs a hand through Stiles’ hair, pulling gently at the ends. “I know.”

--

“So that was an interesting first date,” Stiles teases as he throws his bag in the back of the car.

“Too much for you?” Derek asks, a slight smile on his face.

Stiles looks back at the house, Derek’s family are standing outside the door, waving at them. Derek’s nephew is pouting, having kicked up a fuss when Derek said they’d have to leave. Stiles smiles at them and raises a hand before he turns back to Derek and shakes his head. “Not even slightly,” he says as he climbs into the car.

Derek gets in the car and leans over, his hand on Stiles’ thigh. He kisses Stiles softly, his lips a gentle pressure against Stiles’. Stiles sighs when Derek pulls back slightly. “Come back to my apartment,” Derek murmurs against Stiles’ lips.

“What?”

“Come back to my apartment,” Derek punctuates each word with a kiss.

Stiles tilts his head a little, meets Derek’s eyes. “You serious?”

“I’m not asking you to move in, Stiles,” Derek laughs. “Just - come back with me for a while. Until you have to go back to work.”

“No, I just - I thought maybe you would’ve had enough of me by now.”

“Not happening,” Derek’s mouth brushes against Stiles’ jaw. “Not ever.”

Stiles’ hands tug at Derek’s hair, pulling his head back until he can examine Derek’s face, “I find it really weird we’re doing this in front of your family, but, hey, I can deal with weird,” Stiles smiles and lets go of Derek’s hair. “I’ve kind of been doing weird for a while. But, what you just said? Me too, okay? Me too.”

Derek rests his head against Stiles’ forehead for a moment before he pulls back and starts the car. Stiles grasps the hand Derek left resting on his thigh and laces their fingers together.

“You know what we should do?”

“We should do lots of things,” Stiles says. “But what were you thinking?”

“We should send Mr. Whittemore a thank you card.”