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Right Kind of Wrong

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The call comes in at the end of the shift. Because Stiles is such a nice guy, he goes ahead and agrees to stop by to check on the situation before heading home for the night. It’s a noise complaint, something about a wild party, so it should be a simple stop. Tell the people to turn down the music, and then he can go home to sleep. The flu is hitting the station hard, and it’s also the holidays, so he’s been stuck working doubles more often than not. He’s pretty exhausted, but tomorrow is a day off, which means he can rest up and be ready for another long stretch through the New Year.

When he pulls up in front of the address called in, he’s a little confused. There aren’t any neighbors around for at least a mile, and the house seems pretty quiet. There are some lights on, but nothing that indicates a raging Christmas party is happening. It’s a nice house, expensive, with a good design and a lot of trees around, and he’d be curious to see it in daylight because it looks like there’s a winter garden by the porch. Scratching the back of his neck, he considers just calling it in as resolved, but he’d better check it out, just in case.

It’s almost midnight, and he’s not sure if anyone in the house is sleeping, so Stiles decides to knock instead of ringing the doorbell. After knocking a few times, he can hear someone moving inside, and he blinks in surprise when the door is pulled open by Derek Hale. Derek moved back to Beacon Hills a few months ago, and Stiles has never officially met him or anything, but everyone knows Derek Hale. Not only is he the youngest Hale son, he’s a millionaire (maybe even billionaire) in his own right who owns several successful international companies. He’s the former state high school champion for basketball and baseball back when those teams were actually good. He’s Laura and Cora’s brother, both of whom are friends of Stiles and are very happy to have their brother back in town.

Derek Hale is also gorgeous, with dark hair and muscles and eyes that aren’t even a real color. Despite the money and looks, he also seems ridiculously shy and private. There’d been a bad break up in his past, possibly more than one, and Stiles has listened to Laura threaten various people who have tried going after her brother for his money or his looks. Despite the fact that Stiles actually works as Laura’s partner quite a bit at the station, he still hasn’t met Derek. There have been some near meets since he moved back a few months ago, times when Stiles was off work and saw Cora or Laura with Derek in tow or even Derek alone in a store, but something has always happened before he can introduce himself.

Now, here he is meeting his friends’ brother as his last call of the night with an official report to investigate. It’s not going to be the first meeting he’s thought about happening between them, and he has thought about it because there might have been a crush just from listening to Laura and Cora talk about Derek’s slightly sarcastic wit and brilliant intelligence, a crush that possibly flared even more when he actually saw the guy and could add attraction and desire to the whole crushing package. Derek is swaying slightly as he holds the door open, lips parted, and eyes wide as he stares at Stiles. Probably freaking out that a cop is at his house this late on Christmas when there’s obviously nothing happening that warranted a call to the station.

“I’m really sorry to bother you, Mr. Hale, but I’m here because we had a noise complaint called in,” Stiles says, feeling slightly awkward because there’s definitely no noise, and he’d be willing to bet there hasn’t even been a party happening before his arrival. Sure, Derek appears to be less than sober, but it hadn’t taken him long to get here from the station, not long enough for an entire party to end.

“You’re him,” Derek murmurs, leaning forward and inhaling. “You smell like cinnamon, the woods, and home.”

“Him?” Stiles clears his throat, leaning his head down slightly to take a whiff of himself. He doesn’t smell anything. “I do apologize for disturbing you, Mr. Hale.”

Derek suddenly grins, a huge smile that shows off bunny teeth and makes his eyes crinkle. “It’s my birthday,” he tells Stiles, reaching out to take his hand and pulling him into the house. “My sisters told me my present would be coming tonight, but I didn’t expect you.”

“Okay wow.” Stiles pulls his hand free and stares at Derek. “I’m not a present, Mr. Hale. I’m Deputy Stilinski, and I’m here due to a noise complaint.”

“You’re not my birthday present?” Derek’s smile fades, which makes Stiles feel bad and, God, what is his life? Then Derek looks into his eyes, and Stiles can seriously feel his breath stop for a moment because damn. “Cora was threatening to get me a stripper. Said I needed to loosen up and get the stick out of my ass. She knows I’ve noticed you around town, so she hired you, didn’t she?”

“A stripper? You think I’m a stripper?” Stiles cards his fingers through his hair. Wait. Cora knows Derek has noticed him? Stiles narrows his eyes. “You’ve noticed me?”

“You’re beautiful,” Derek whispers, nostrils flaring. “And you smell like mine. Are you a stripper? I didn’t want one, but I want you, so I’ll accept whatever Cora paid for. I won’t judge, either. People have to do what they can to survive. But you shouldn’t do it anymore. I don’t like sharing.”

“You are an odd drunk,” Stiles mutters, fully aware that Derek is under the influence and must be saying things he doesn’t even realize, which makes Stiles an ass to still be standing here letting him talk. “You’re going to be so embarrassed when you’re sober, aren’t you? I bet you kill Cora, too, for threatening to get you a stripper and thus causing this misunderstanding in the first place.”

“I’m not drunk.” Derek blinks at him, face flushed slightly. “Maybe just a little?” He holds his thumb and forefinger apart by a couple of inches. “Laura said thirty is a big year to celebrate, and she spiked my drink. I let her because I thought it might be more fun. It just makes my head hurt and everything’s tilting a little, so not much fun.”

“Your sisters are pretty evil,” he points out. “Come on. Why don’t we get you some water and you should probably sit down because you’re swaying a lot, big guy?”

“Will you strip then?” Derek looks at him so earnestly, the tips of his ears flushing red and the flush on his face becoming ruddier. “I mean, I, uh, wouldn’t want you lose the money for this if you don’t do the job.”

“You don’t want me to lose money, huh?” Stiles steps forward and puts an arm around Derek’s shoulders. Broad shoulders with muscles twitching beneath his fingertips. God, he’s so stupid for still being here. He’s too damn curious and also too responsible for his own good. “No other reason?”

“I want to see your hips move. I want you to give me a lap dance,” Derek whispers, the smell of something fruity tickling Stiles’ nose. “I’ve seen you before, around town, but I haven’t had the nerve to ask your name.”

“You mentioned noticing me around town earlier,” Stiles reminds him, knowing it’s pointless because the poor guy’s not sober enough to remember. He’s not sober enough for Stiles to be asking leading questions, either. “Sorry, I shouldn’t even still be here. This is wrong, and any chance I might have had with you is going to be ruined by this, isn’t it?”

“I don’t understand,” Derek says as Stiles pushes him onto the sofa. “Ruined? Why would your chance be ruined?”

“I’ve seen you around town, too, big guy,” Stiles admits, figuring why not since the chances of Derek remembering any of this are probably slim. “I’ve thought about climbing you like a tree, and I’d totally risk the humiliation of my clumsy ass stripping for you if you were sober and able to consent. As it is, you’ll probably only remember bits of this, and your awkward social anxiety I’ve heard about will probably make you avoid me because of the embarrassment.”

Derek frowns at him, still blinking and looking adorably confused. “I’m not embarrassed that I’ve been lusting after a stripper. You’re so hot,” he breathes out in a low tone that totally does things to Stiles that aren’t appropriate considering the circumstances. “And I’d never avoid you. I want to know everything about you, and I want to hold you and make love with you and keep you forever.”

“You’re pretty damn smoking yourself, Mr. Hale.” Stiles is going to kill Cora for threatening a stripper and making her brother jump to inaccurate conclusions. He can’t even let himself hope that all the holding and keeping forever is serious because they’ve never even met until tonight. “I’m going to get you some water, alright? You stay right here.”

“I don’t want water. I want you to dance for me.” Derek is sulking, and Stiles has to get away before he ends up doing something that compromises his morals and possibility results in charges getting filed against him for like stripping for a drunk guy or something.

Stiles goes to the kitchen and gets a bottle of water out of the fridge. When he goes back to the living room, he stops and just stares, unable to do anything for several moments. He snaps out of it and drops the bottle, rushing forward. “Why are you getting naked?” His tone is huskier than it should be, but there’s bare skin, and a tattoo on Derek’s back, and muscles and a hairy chest and it’s too much. He’s only human, and this is temptation come to life.

“I thought you’d get naked if I was naked,” Derek tells him, nodding his head as if that makes any sense whatsoever.

“You aren’t sober, Mr. Hale.” Stiles pulls Derek’s shirt back up over his shoulders and tries to focus on buttoning it without accidentally copping a feel. Derek is a couple of inches taller than him, but they’re practically the same height, and he’s sniffing Stiles’ neck, close enough he can feel stubble brushing against his bare skin. “You’re so lucky I know about the werewolf thing or you’d really be putting yourself at risk,” he mutters, finishing with the last button before shoving Derek back on the sofa.

“You know?” Derek’s eyes flash yellow, which is a relief because if he’d somehow been an alpha like Laura and Mrs. Hale, Stiles might have had more of a fight on his hands to corral him. “Laura is evil.”

“Yes, yes, she is,” Stiles agrees, ruffling Derek’s thick hair before he walks over to get the bottle of water he dropped. “She gave you some of the spiked stuff, huh? My friend, Lydia, created the compound that makes it possible for alcohol to affect your kind.”

“Wine.” Derek looks at him. “It’s my birthday, and my family celebrated after Christmas dinner. My uncle Peter drove me home because the wine made the world spin.”

“Your uncle Peter is a bit of a lech,” Stiles says, grabbing a blanket off the back of the chair and shaking it open. “You’ll feel better in the morning. Lucky thing about your kind is no hangovers. Why don’t you just lie down and sleep it off, Mr. Hale?”

“Derek.” He looks into Stiles’ eyes. “I’m Derek. Who’re you?”

“Stiles.” Stiles reaches out to stroke his thumb across Derek’s jaw before he even realizes what he’s doing. He pulls his hand back and makes a face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“It’s okay.” Derek smiles. “Stiles. Stiles the stripper. You’re the best birthday present ever, you know?”

Stiles snorts. “I’m not a stripper, Derek. I’m also not your birthday present. Your sisters probably ordered you something and forgot there’s no delivery on the holidays.”

“You said you’d strip for me if I’m sober and can consent,” Derek reminds him. “You weren’t lying, were you?”

“How do you even remember that?” Stiles huffs a laugh. “You won’t in the morning, I’m sure. I wasn’t lying, though. I didn’t mean I’d strip for you because it’s my job. I meant I’d totally do it if we were dating or something.”

“I’ll remember in the morning,” Derek says stubbornly, reaching out to take Stiles’ hand and pull him down right onto his lap. He strokes Stiles’ cheek, looking into his eyes in a way that makes Stiles feel like he’s able to see his soul or something weird like that. “I want to date you. I’ve thought about it a lot since I saw you at the bookstore that first time. You were drinking hot chocolate with whipped cream, and you were reading American Gods, and I could smell you across the store.”

“Oh.” Stiles licks his lips, noticing the way Derek drops his gaze to watch his tongue. “That’s, uh, God. We shouldn’t even be talking when you’re drunk. Anything you tell me is due to the loosened inhibitions, and it’s not right to take advantage of you. I want to date you, too, you know? If this whole thing hasn’t messed up any chance I have.”

“Sleep with me tonight.” Derek traces his mouth with his thumb, and Stiles is going to combust with lust if he keeps this up because he can’t act on any of it. “In the morning, we’ll talk, and I’ll tell you all of this again.”

“I’m not having sex with someone who is too drunk to consent.” Stiles gets off Derek’s lap and smiles wryly. “I’m leaving the water right here for you, and here’s a blanket so you don’t risk falling by trying to get upstairs to your bedroom tonight.”

“You’re leaving?” Derek’s eyebrows move around a bit before they settle into a frowning sort of position. “I didn’t mean sex, Stiles. Just stay over and sleep with me.”

“That’s even more intimate, Derek. We haven’t even met when you’re sober enough to remember my name,” he points out. “Laura and Cora have told me about some of your past, and I’m not going to be another name on the list of horrible people who use you or take advantage. Now sleep it off, and maybe we’ll have the opportunity to meet for the first time again.”

“You aren’t like any of them. You smell like mine,” Derek says, looking confused and uncertain. He runs his fingers through his hair, fighting off a yawn. “I’m not tired.”

“I don’t know what you mean about how I smell, but it’s not something we’re discussing when you’re vulnerable anyway.” Stiles gently urges Derek to lie on the sofa, covering him with the blanket. “If you remember any of this at all tomorrow, you’re welcome to get my number from Laura.”

“I’ll remember,” Derek tells him stubbornly, eyelids fluttering slightly as he tries to stay awake. Stiles tucks the blanket around him, biting his lip for a moment before he leans down to press a quick kiss against his temple.

“Sure you will, big guy,” he murmurs, straightening up and sighing. “Happy birthday, Derek.”

Stiles turns off the light and leaves the house. He can’t lock the door without a key, but he’s hoping that maybe being so far out of town will keep anyone from trying to break in. When he gets into his squad car, he radios the station that the noise complaint was invalid, signing off and then driving home. He’s so tired after six days of doubles in a row and the entire Derek thing that he strips down and climbs into bed without even bothering to take a shower.

The sound of someone knocking pulls him out of the dirty dreams he’s been having all night. He groans as he blinks at the sunlight peering around his curtains, reaching for his phone and clicking the button to see that it’s ten in the morning. Fuck. He slept a solid nine and a half hours, and he’s at least feeling a little more rested now. “Just a minute,” he hollers out, knowing it has to be Scott, who will be able to hear him with those wolfy ears of his. Anyone else would call him before dropping by, but Scott’s his best friend, and there aren’t any formalities there.

After a quick stop in the bathroom, he pulls on a pair of underwear then his sweats, not bothering with anything else yet. He can get Scott set up with a video game or food then take a shower before getting fully dressed. Stiles scratches at his lower abdomen, making a slight face when he can feel the crusty evidence of more than one wet dream last night. Gross. He tugs his sweatpants up a little higher to avoid Scott noticing, not that he won’t smell him anyway. When he opens the door, he’s in mid-yawn with his hand in his hair, and he freezes like that when he sees who is standing on his porch.

“You aren’t Scott.” He blinks dumbly, lowering his hand and gaping.

“And you aren’t a stripper,” Derek says quietly, ears red as he stares at Stiles. “I, uh, remember. Surprise?” He holds up a bag from Donut Haven. “Laura said your favorites are cinnamon rolls and chocolate sprinkles. I also have coffee.”

“What exactly do you remember?” Stiles asks, tightening his grip on the door. Sure, Derek definitely has more reason to be possibly be embarrassed, especially after the mistaken identity with a stripper thing and trying to get naked himself, but Stiles remembers being pretty damn candid because he didn’t think Derek was going to remember.

“Everything.” Derek moves his gaze over Stiles then, reminding him that he’s just wearing a pair of soft sweatpants hanging rather low on his hips. If possible, Derek’s ears seem to get redder as he sniffs the air, eyelashes fluttering as his upper cheekbones flush. “Um, I understand if I made you uncomfortable last night and you’d rather not talk to me. You should take the food and coffee, though, because I bought those for you.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” Stiles admits, stepping aside and motioning for Derek to come inside. “A little embarrassed about some of the things I said, sure, but not really uncomfortable. I meant everything, after all, and I can own that.”

Derek puts the bag and coffee on the table by Stiles’ sofa before shrugging off his coat. He pulls his sweater over his head, tossing it at Stiles. “You should put that on. You’re cold,” he mutters, blushing as he tugs down the hem of his Henley that’s ridden up while he stripped the sweater off.

“Thanks.” Stiles breathes in the scent of cologne and what must be Derek’s natural odor before he pulls the sweater over his head. It’s extremely warm and made of some fancy material that feels amazing against his skin. His nipples tighten a little more as he feels the fabric brush against them. Sensitive damn things. “How do you feel today?”

“Like an idiot.” Derek sits down when Stiles does, running his fingers through his hair and shifting awkwardly on the sofa. “Cora admitted to me that she called in the noise complaint. Laura knew you’d be getting off work and would likely to take the call. They set you up, set me up, set us up, I guess.”

“Seriously?” Stiles picks up the cup of coffee and takes a sip. It’s exactly the way he takes it, and he arches a brow at Derek. “Laura told you my coffee and donut order, huh?”

“Yes, it’s the least she could do after I humiliated myself last night. I called the sheriff’s son a stripper,” Derek reminds him, grimacing as he picks up the other cup. “If you hadn’t been so intent on not taking advantage, I have no doubt that we’d have woken up this morning after a few rounds of rigorous sex that we definitely would have enjoyed a lot but also might have regretted.”

“There was a moment or two when I hesitated and considered blaming exhaustion for me acting out the stripper thing,” he confesses, picking at a loose thread on his sweatpants. “But you were drunk, and I knew you’d never have said or done those things if you’d been sober.”

“I’m sober now,” Derek tells him quietly. “I’m not going to hold you to the stripping for me thing, though a raincheck would be good. Because I’d really love to see those hips of yours move. But I did mean what I said last night, even if I wouldn’t have blurted it all out if not for that potent wine in my system. I’d like to introduce myself first, so you’ll know I’m serious. I’m Derek Hale, and I just moved back to town a few months ago. I think you know my meddling sisters, who can’t tell me enough positive things about you, by the way.”

“Oh.” Stiles licks his lips and slowly smiles. “I’m Stiles Stilinski. I’m a deputy for the sheriff’s department, and I’m partnered with Laura a lot, and Cora dates one of my best friends, Lydia. They’re biased, but please feel free to believe anything nice that they tell you about me.”

“Of course they know you that well. They never mentioned those details when I was going on and on about the hot guy with moles and pretty eyes that I kept seeing around town,” Derek says, huffing a laugh before he looks at Stiles seriously. “When I told you last night that you smell like mine? I meant that you smell like a potential mate. It’s not anything binding or that even sways my attraction to you, really. I noticed you before I noticed the scent. Since you seemed big on consent last night, I wanted to be clear about that.”

“Thanks for that.” Stiles tugs on the sleeves of the loose sweater he’s wearing. “I’m sure they didn’t mention anything because I’ve had a little crush on you just from listening to their stories about you, so they were probably making sure I was serious when I kept asking them more about you.”

“A crush, huh?” Derek arches a brow. “Because of how I look? I mean, I get that sometimes, because I fit some ideal of beauty or whatever. I know I’m attractive, and I’ve used my looks sometimes, especially in business since it will occasionally mean people underestimate.”

“No, because you’re a snarky ass sometimes who loves your family and seems to be really smart,” Stiles says honestly, knowing Derek can tell he isn’t lying. “The fact that you’re also gorgeous and built is just an added bonus, but I was crushing before I ever saw you. I mean, I remember you vaguely back in high school, but I’m like six years younger than you, so we never overlapped. I also didn’t realize I was bisexual until I was in eighth grade, which was after you’d gone to college.”

Derek ducks his head and smiles shyly. “I’m not a snarky ass. I’m just opinionated, and my siblings are often wrong, so I have to ensure they see the error of their ways.” He glances up at Stiles. “I’d like to take you out on a date, Stiles. I’d like the chance to get to know you, see how things go, maybe get that striptease one day.”

“I’d like to date you, too, Derek.” Stiles opens the bag and pulls out a chocolate frosted donut. “However, you probably need to ask me out for that date to happen, don’t you think? We can definitely raincheck that striptease, though I’ll give you fair warning that I’m clumsy sometimes, so it might not be as sexy as you’ve imagined.”

Derek stares at him for a moment, his teeth dragging his bottom lip into his mouth as Stiles licks chocolate off his fingers. “I don’t see how it could not be sexy,” he mutters, clearing his throat and taking a gulp of his coffee. “You’re right about me needing to actually ask you out.” He looks back at Stiles. “Would you like to go out for dinner tonight?”

“I don’t know why you look so nervous. I’m pretty much a sure thing. I mean, I told you I wanted to climb you like a tree,” Stiles reminds him gently, feeling butterflies in his stomach despite the fact that he’s telling Derek not to be nervous. Pot, kettle, and all that. He slowly smiles. “Dinner tonight would be awesome.”

“A sure thing, huh?” Derek smiles. “I might get the wrong idea hearing that,” he teases. “But I’m glad you want to go out with me. What time should I pick you up?”

“I don’t think it’s the wrong idea at all,” Stiles admits, waggling his eyebrows. “How about seven? Gives me time to get some stuff done around the house and run some errands before I have to get ready.”

“Seven is good.” Derek puts his coffee down and stands up. “Maybe the right kind of wrong then?” he asks, arching a brow as he steps closer to Stiles’ chair. “I’d really like to kiss you, Stiles.”

Stiles stands up, licking his lips as he stares into those beautiful eyes. “Then why don’t you?”

Derek groans before he lowers his head, pressing his mouth against Stiles’. It’s a first kiss, chaste and almost hesitant. Stiles’ lips are chapped, the winter always dries them out, but Derek’s lips are soft and smooth. Their mouths move together, Derek’s hand moving to the small of Stiles’ back as his other hand lightly holds his jaw, thumb rubbing against his cheek. Stiles parts his lips, flicking his tongue out, listening to the sound Derek makes before he’s opening up for him, his tongue swiping out and licking into Stiles’ mouth.

The hesitancy begins to fade away, replaced by a low burning passion that has Stiles’ gripping Derek’s hair and squeezing his ass as the kiss deepens. Despite the attraction they both obviously feel, it’s a sweet kiss, in a way. Explorative, just a taste of what’s to come, stirring the flames with licks and gentle sucks, but not intended to set them ablaze. Not yet. That’ll be later, after dinner, when they’ve had time to talk and flirt and be awkward and sexy, then it’ll be a kiss with intent. Now, it’s a tease, a promise.

When they pull apart, Stiles’ lips are wet and swollen, and Derek’s flushed and breathing hard. “I’ll go ahead and leave now,” Derek says, voice husky and a little deeper than before. Stiles caused that. He can’t help smiling at that realization. Derek huffs a laugh, obviously seeing Stiles’ smugness. “I’ll be back at seven, alright? You know, I still hold firm to what I said last night.”

“I’ll be ready and waiting.” He arches a brow. “Which part of what you said last night?” Stiles asks curiously. Derek said a lot last night, and he’s already mentioned this morning that he meant it all.

Derek grabs his cup of coffee and walks to the door, turning to face Stiles as he opens it. His grin is wide, eyes crinkled, and he’s smiling at Stiles like he’s someone special and important. It’s a good feeling. One that Stiles wouldn’t mind feeling all the time. Derek pulls Stiles against him, sniffing his neck and brushing a kiss against his jaw before he steps outside. “You’re the best birthday present ever.”