Stiles sprawls out on the itchy grass panting. He lifts his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face and makes grabby hands at Scott with his other.
"Water!" He croaks.
Scott, because he is the best bro to ever bro, presses a lukewarm bottle into his palm laughing.
"Oh my god. Stiles. We've barely even made it halfway through the course." He can just make out Lydia standing over him arms akimbo and frowning.
"Lydia, my beautiful goddess I can't do it. I've been had. This is all a lie." He waves his hand around the sunny park and winces at the way his shoulder aches. "It's called frisbee golf, which led me to believe that there would be quiet clapping and, I don't know, carts to drive us around in. This should be called Frisbee Oh-God-More-Fucking-Running."
"Well you wouldn't have to run so much if you made it in the pole-hole more often."
"Pole hole." Stiles snickers and lazily fist bumps Scott.
"Oh my god." Lydia rolls her eyes and kicks him in the thigh. "Get up."
Stiles makes a warbling sound of pain while hauling himself up and dusting grass off himself.
"Hey. You playing through or what?"
Stiles looks up and has to blink a few times. He glances at Lydia to make sure this isn't a heat induced mirage but she looks a little dazed herself. And by dazed he, of course, means perfect and perky in her designer exercise spandex. He sighs and turns back to the group of men standing behind them. Every single one of them looks like they stepped out of Stiles hot bearded dude fantasies.
He has many.
The one who spoke must be the king of hot bearded dude group because he is extra hot. Stiles could cut himself on those cheekbones and enjoy it. Hottest Bearded Dude scowls at them and has one massive eyebrow raised above his sunglasses. His beard is just this short of unkempt and his biceps are pushing against the sleeves of his grey shirt and Stiles thinks he needs more water again.
"Are. You. Playing. Through?" Hottest Bearded Dude says slowly and carefully.
Stiles impresses everyone with another warbling air sucking sound and he can hear Lydia sigh.
"Yeah. We were just going." She twirls her hair and smiles. "Come on, Stiles."
And just like every day since second grade he follows her. Scott and Kira trailing behind giggling when Stiles trips over himself to look back again.
"I thought bears hibernated in the winter!" Stiles complains and flails his hands in disbelief.
"It's June." Kira reminds him with a grin.
He tosses his frisbee and it goes wide so he sighs and jogs after it cursing his inability to say no to Lydia.
"I think the really important question here is what is a group of bears called?" He asks when he gets back.
"A sleuth." Lydia says.
"You just knew that?" Stiles squints and Lydia gives him her best withering look.
"Seriously? That's hilarious." Scott laughs.
"Yes,seriously. And the sleuth is catching up to us again and as pretty as they are, this is getting embarrassing." Lydia scoops up her disc and heads to the next goal.
Stiles grumbles and continues on. He was promised margaritas at the end of this and he is going to drink his weight in icy cold tequila goodness.
Derek watches the guy, Stiles, walk away his feet tripping underneath him. He can't take his eyes off the way his gym shorts cling to his ass and how tuggable his hair looks sticking up from sweat. He wants to go after him and find out what kind of name Stiles is but he can hear laughing behind him and turns back to his friends.
"I see you are going with your murder eyes seduction technique bro." Geoff smirks at him and ignores his glare. "My turn."
"I'm not seducing anyone."
"Yeah obviously." Ryan pats him on the shoulder.
"Just shut up and play."
Ryan holds his hands up in mock surrender and steps back.
They almost catch up to them a few times during the day. He can see Stiles running across the grass repeatedly and winces when he misses the basket yet again. The red head seems to be getting more and more frustrated with him and the other two seem happy to make out while waiting for Stiles to make a hole.
I'd like to help him make a hole. He can feel his ears turn red and he stops those thoughts in their tracks.
They end up jammed up on the second to last hole because Stiles is doing abysmal. The throws aren't even close and Derek tries not to laugh when Stiles actually jumps up and down on his frisbee.
"Hey." Ryan shouts and shoves Derek forward. "Maybe Derek can help you. He's a great coach."
"Uh." Derek stands in the space between the two groups and imagines ways to kill his best friend. Slow would be best. Until Lydia shoves Stiles forward and says "Yeah. We'll take it."
Stiles hates his life and his stupid friends. Hottest Bear smiles a little and holds out a hand. It's warm and dry while Stiles is sure his is sweaty and gross.
Derek laughs and Stiles can not handle it. His eyes crinkle at the corner and he has buck teeth and Stiles just wants to rub himself all over that beard. Or the chest hair he can see above the collar of Derek's too tight shirt.
"Earth to Stiles." Derek is still smiling and he's waving his free hand in Stiles' face.
"Oh right." He releases his grip and shuffles back. "Frisbee. Coach Derek. Yeah!" He does a little cheer like fist pump and cringes at himself.
"We're going to skip this one and leave you two to it, buddy." Less But Still Very Hot Bear clasps Derek on the shoulder. Derek just nods not taking his eyes off of Stiles and if he weren't already sunburned he'd be bright red. He looks back at his own friends and Lydia seems to have latched herself onto Third Hot Bear; her hand looped through his arm as they walk towards the next hole. Scott gives him the this cool. bro? eyebrows and Stiles gives him the fuck yes. gtfo crazy eyes.
Derek is actually a good coach. Even with the distraction of...all of him pressed against his back, Stiles manages to get the disc closer each time he throws. He is pretty sure it'd be not okay if he started grinding his ass against Derek's front so he grits his teeth and breathes through his nose each time Derek moves him bodily through the motions.
After the most sexually frustrating five minutes of his entire life Derek steps back and tells him to try it by himself. He lets out a breath and tries to focus and will down his chubby. He repeats all the instructions Derek gave him and sticks his tongue out before whipping his frisbee towards the hole.
And holy shit. He made it.
He laughs and spins around to shout at Derek. "Did you see that!? Did you fucking see it!?"
"Yeah. I did." Derek's mouth quirks at the edges and he looks fond.
Stiles decides fuck it and thows himself against Derek and wraps his arms around his neck. He ignores the startled oof Derek makes and kisses him. His beard is surprisingly soft, he wonders aimlessly if Derek conditions it, and his mouth is hot and opens easily against Stiles own.
Derek cups his jaw with one broad hand and slows the kiss down until Stiles feels like some Victorian maiden when his knees feel a little wobbly. He leans his weight more into Derek who wraps his arms around his waist and anchors him. Stiles forgets about the sun and the background noise of the park becomes only a buzz in his ears. He slides his hands up to the nape of Derek's neck and tangles his fingers in the short hairs there. Derek groans and presses harder deepening the kiss. Stiles answer with his own noise and they stay like that until there is an embarrassed cough.
"Are you done?" A man with dreadlocks and a distinct scent of patchouli stands in front of them gripping a tie dyed frisbee.
"Oh yeah. Sorry." Derek ducks his head and blushes. He lets his hands slip off Stiles waist but he doesn't move far sliding down to reach Stiles hand and grip it tight.
"No worries, man. It's all good." The man gives them a sunny, stoned grin and waves them off.
They are greeted by woops from their friends and Lydia decides that they are going to skip the last hole and go get drinks instead. Stiles is absurdly grateful and sighs happily.
After drinks Derek walks Stiles home. His apartment is a few blocks from the bar and he's a little tipsy.
"Oh my god. You are a gentleman. That is so hot." Stiles leans into him and Derek drapes an arm around his shoulders and enjoys the press of Stiles warmth against his side. They don't talk much but it's a comfortable silence and Derek can't stop smiling like an idiot. Today was a good fucking day.
"This is me." Stiles hops up onto the stoop and presses his hands into Derek's shoulders. "Have I told you how fucking pretty you are?"
"Only about a billion times."
"Especially your eyes. They are like...5 no 8 different colors. Stupid sunglasses getting in the way." He flicks the offending glasses that are hooked into Derek's collar.
"Yes you mentioned that a few times too." Derek smirks and leans in to kiss him again.
"I'd like to see you again." He says against Stiles lips.
"Yessssss." Stiles laughs. "I would like that too."
He sobers for a minute, his laughing face turning serious for a moment.
"But you have to promise me one thing?"
"Oh. That's dangerous. But I'm going to remember this for when we're together for years and you tell me no. I will whip this moment out and guilt trip you with it."
Derek's head buzzes at the idea of being with Stiles for that long and he shrugs. "Deal. But what do you want right now though?"
"Oh. Right." Stiles face scrunches up adorably. "No more frisbee golf please."
Derek laughs so hard he jostles Stiles and has to keep him from falling off the stoop. "Ok. I can manage that."
They exchange numbers and kiss again. And again. And once more for good measure.
"Good night, Stiles." Derek says walking backwards.
"Good night, Derek."
"Have to meet my friends. They're my ride." Derek feels like he has to make an excuse or he'll stand in front of Stiles apartment making out all night.
"S'fine. Call me right away. And say hi to your sleuth." Stiles pushes his door open and disappears inside with a wave.
The next morning, Stiles wakes up hating himself. Dehydration and tequila do not make a happy morning Stiles. He groans and pats around on his side table for his phone. He almost knocks a glass of water over in the process and when he finds it he pulls it in with him under the blanket nest. He has a few new text messages. One from Lydia saying she was at Ryan's and she'll text him when she gets home. It is their routine for safety. The next one is from her saying she made it home. He smiles and thumbs to the next one from "Hottest Bear" and grins to himself.
"What the fuck is a sleuth?" and Stiles starts to laugh but it makes the room swim so he stops but is still grinning at the next message.
"Lunch? Or Dinner? Not sure what time you get up. But I want to see you today."
Stiles types a reply. "Google it. And I think lunch is going to be tylenol and gatorade so it'll have to be dinner."
He bundles back into his covers and lets himself drift back to sleep. He doesn't even hear the ping of a new message.
"All I get is a definition about detectives. If you don't tell me I will make every date frisbee golf."