Derek’s eyes narrow when he hears Stiles let out another series of chuckles from his office. He’s up to something, Derek knows it, but Stiles has gotten a lot better at hiding things from the rest of them over the last couple of years. Part of him wants to investigate, but the rest of him knows it’s pointless, Stiles won’t tell him what’s going on and it will just lead to arguing and frustration. Stiles will tell him when he’s ready. The periodic laughter at least reassures him it’s nothing bad. Doesn’t reassure him that it’s going to be something he likes though – because for all that he’s a grown adult, Stiles still plays like a kid sometimes. It would bother Derek more if it didn’t mean that the other man was finally letting go of the guilt that held him hostage for so many years, something that Derek has also finally been able to do. Another bout of laughter is accompanied by mumbling, something that sounds like ‘this is gonna be so great’ but he’s not really sure. That’s another skill Stiles acquired – the ability to mumble in a way that made it hard for the wolves to understand him. Considering how much he talked to himself (and how very little of what he said ever got filtered), it was pretty useful. It also helped everyone stop trying to have a conversation with the half-distracted emissary when he wasn’t actually really talking to any of them. The number of times he’d snarked at someone when he got pulled out of his train of thoughts while problem-solving because they thought he was talking to them was pretty high before he figured out how to do it quietly enough not to engage anyone. Derek felt his lips curl up as he thought about the way Stiles would pace and mumble, hands running through his hair until he looked like he’d been rolling around in bed. He shifted at the sudden tightening in his pants, because no matter how long they’d been together, thoughts of Stiles and bed together still got him going. He was on his feet and moving towards the in-home office before the thought had finished ghosting across his mind, knuckles rapping once against the doorframe before he stepped inside. He caught the flash of a website as it was hastily closed before the lid to the laptop was dropped down, Stiles turning, smile on his face radiant when he saw the smirk on Derek’s face.
“Not sure what’s got you worked up, but I’m game.” His eyebrows waggled as he stood and moved towards the other man, arms out. Derek wrapped him up, lips finding each other’s with the ease of people who’ve been together for awhile, practiced kisses soon growing heated as Derek walked them backwards across the hall to their room, both of them panting and laughing as they fell onto the mattress. Clothing was dropped over the edge of the bed as they stripped one another, kisses punctuated with smiles and soft caresses, bodies sliding together comfortably, the noises falling from their lips loud in the quiet of their house, exhalations and moans overtaking the silence. They rocked together until they were spent, happiness and contentment radiating from them both as they drifted off to sleep, wrapped up in each other.
“Dereeeeeek,” oh god, he hated when Stiles started whining. It wasn’t as annoying as he acted like it was, but he knew that when the whining started, it was only a matter of time before he’d give in. There was very little he wouldn’t do for Stiles, and he was pretty sure Stiles knew that (though, to be fair, it worked in the reverse – he was just less likely than Stiles to use it to his advantage).
“Stiles.” His frustration was edging through, he knew it, didn’t stop it from happening. He could feel his nostrils flare as he exhaled roughly.
“Dude, come on. It’s Halloween. You have to dress up.”
“Stop calling me dude. And I don’t have to dress up. I also don’t have to go out. You can go with your friends, I don’t care.”
“Well, I care. And I want you to come out with us. They want you to come out with us. And if you come out, you should have a costume.”
“I’m tired of talking about this, I don’t want to go out, I don’t want to wear a costume. Why is that so hard to understand?”
“It’s not. But I’m asking you to, please, come out with us.”
“Enough! I’m not a child; I don’t want to play dress-up!” He was glaring, he could feel the scowl on his face, the tightness as his eyebrows drew down. He didn’t even know why he was arguing this hard, he honestly didn’t care one way or another about Halloween but when Stiles asked and he said no, it led to pestering, and it was rubbing him the wrong way. He watched as Stiles’ own eyes narrowed, mouth turning down at the edges, jaw clenching. He could smell the irritation coming off of his husband, mixed with something else…disappointment? He was about to open his mouth, relent (not on the costume part, but on going out at least), when Stiles beat him to it.
“Fine. Stay here. I’ll go alone. What do I care?” Stiles spun on his heel and stormed into his office, door not-quite-slamming behind him. Shit. They worked really hard not to snap at each other, not to leave when they were angry, but that hard shut was Stiles’ go-to when he was pissed about something. He scrubbed a hand down his face, blowing out a hard breath before he followed him, opening the door slowly just in case Stiles was leaning against it. He wasn’t, instead Derek found him sitting in the desk chair, head in his hands. He opened his mouth to apologize but Stiles beat him to the punch again.
“I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair. You don’t have to go if you don’t want, it’s – I – it doesn’t matter, it’s okay.” His voice was a little shaky, laced with guilt. “I mean it, I’m not doing the thing, I’ll be okay with it if you don’t want to go. I know crowds aren’t your thing.” He gave Derek a tentative smile, hands dropping to his lap, and Derek couldn’t stop himself from moving forward, landing softly on his knees and wrapping the other man in his arms.
“Hey, if you really want me there, I’ll go. I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. And I didn’t mean what I said, I get why you love Halloween. I’ll even dress up.” He gave his own smile, arms tightening when he felt Stiles slide forward to curl himself around Derek.
“You don’t have to. Or, if you do, you don’t have to dress up. But don’t come if you don’t want to – I don’t ever want to force you into things you don’t want.”
“I know, and I don’t not-want to come.”
“Okay, just…if you change your mind it’s alright.” They held each other for a few minutes longer before breaking apart. Both of them still had work at the station soon and they needed to get ready – they’d picked up extra shifts to arrange to be off for Halloween, which meant they’d be working a few at the same time for once (John usually refused to schedule them to the same shifts, for obvious reasons, and he never had them patrolling together – he’d learned that lesson early on when he had to deal with reports of his deputies getting up to some indecent behavior while they were supposed to be running a speed trap, they were lucky he hadn’t fired them on the spot).
A package arrived the morning of Halloween, and Stiles swooped in to snag it before Derek had even finished signing, whooping as he did about his costume finally having all of it’s parts. He had the same excited air that Derek recognized from his bouts of office laughter, so he figured this is what Stiles had spent the last month or so planning. He was glad he’d decided to go in the end – thinking about it again after they’d both calmed down more to make sure he really was going to be fine with it. He’d even come up with a costume, getting Lydia to agree to help him, although when she heard what it was she didn’t seem half as amused about it as he was. Oh well, he knew Stiles would appreciate it. He smiled to himself as he headed to the bedroom to grab the few things he needed from home before he went to Lydia’s to change. Stiles had agreed that meeting up at the Jungle after getting ready separately was fine – clearly hoping to conceal his own costume until the last minute.
Most of the clothes were at Lydia’s when he got there, nowhere safe to hide them in his house. She was nearly ready by the time he arrived, her hair in tight yet fluffy curls trailing down her back, her gown a soft blue, shimmering in the light, arrows belted along her hip and a bow sitting near the front door. He smiled at her, happy that she’d finally given up trying to play the bimbo in favor of embracing how amazing she truly was. He’d been jealous of her for a long time, but they’d still managed to become friends, so alike in their taste and humor. He was glad she’d finally helped him see that Stiles hadn’t had eyes for anyone else in years and that he had nothing to worry about.
“Alright, let me see what’s in the bag.” She made grabby hands at him and he quickly opened it up, dragging out an oversized (well, it won’t be on him) old hoodie and a beat up pair of Chucks – he was lucky he shared a shoe size with his husband, or he’d have had to shell out good money for shoes he was sure he’d never wear again. The smile on Lydia’s face told him he’d gotten the right bits to finish it off. He moved quickly as she ushered him into the guest room where the rest of his outfit was waiting – slightly too big skinny jeans (at least compared to how he normally wore his pants), a graphic tee with Darth Vader on it, and a red and black plaid flannel. He shaved (and god, he hoped Stiles wouldn’t be too disappointed in his lack of stubble) before layering up quickly – the hoodie barely fitting over the rest of the clothes – while Lydia dragged out a pair of disposable gloves and some leave-in hair color along with a small brown eyebrow pencil. He sat on the floor so she could reach the top of his head, smiling at his reflection as his dark hair took on a brownish tinge (and finding temporary color in a “normal” shade had been a real bitch if he was honest). When it seemed mostly even, Lydia dropped the gloves into the small trashcan by the door and pulled up a picture on her phone, enlarging it before going to work with the makeup pencil. It took another 10 minutes before Lydia declared herself done, smiling and snapping a picture when he got to his feet before heading back downstairs and out to the car. He followed her to the club, excitement thrumming through his veins.
He parked towards the back of the lot, nose scenting the air but finding no trace of his husband yet. He knew Stiles tended to run late to things, so he wasn’t worried, just paid his entrance and headed inside to the rest of the pack. They’d commandeered several tables near the back corner, sliding them together to make one large one. He accepted a drink from Scott, laughing to see the other man was dressed as an actual puppy (most of the pack called him one often enough, but Derek was glad to see that Scott found the humor in it). Kira was there, no costume because she was definitely still on duty (her and Isaac both it seemed, since they were both in their EMT uniforms). Allison appeared to be dressed as Snow White, Erica as Catwoman (which she’d been for the last 5 years, but he wasn’t about to call her on it). Boyd was in a black suit, and Derek was trying to puzzle out exactly who he was supposed to be when he caught a flash of blue sticking out of the other man’s pocket – something that looked suspiciously like Stitch, his thoughts about Boyd dressing as Mr. Bubbles confirmed when he saw the glint of light on metal and was able to read the tiny nameplate attached over one pocket. It made him smile to himself, because for all the stoicism, Boyd definitely had a great sense of humor. He laughs and jokes with the rest of the pack while he waits for Stiles, sitting when the others drift off to dance.
He catches the scent before he actually lays eyes on Stiles, the familiar smell of home and husband reaching his nose despite the overlaying smells of too many people and too much booze. He closed his eyes, and focused, hearing the steady thump of Stiles’ heartbeat moving closer, opening them when he hears him near the edge of the crowd. His head turns towards the spot Stiles should be emerging and he stands to wait, wanting Stiles to get the full effect (before he shrugs out of the plaid and hoodie – he doesn’t know how Stiles ever stood to wear this many layers, he’s hot). His own heartbeat trips for a moment when he finally catches sight of his husband, a laugh bubbling up out of his throat when they lock eyes. He can hear Stiles’ answering laughter as the other man saunters towards him, a new swagger to his steps, thighs encased in jeans that are definitely a size too small, the outline of his defined abs shifting with his too-tight t-shirt. He can hear the familiar sounds of the leather jacket creaking as it moves, the thump of his own boots loud enough over the din as Stiles makes his way over. It’s not until Stiles is closer that Derek notices the red sheen covering his eyes, a low growl escaping his throat as his blood rushes south. Stiles picks up on it, smirking as he steps into Derek’s space, voice a purr.
“Easy big guy, seems I’m the alpha now.” His face is clean-shaven too, aviator sunglasses perched across his newly darkened hair, hand fisting in Derek’s hoodie as he drags them together for a kiss. Derek’s hands find his hips, sharp pinpricks as his claws try to emerge when he hears Stiles call himself the alpha (who knew that would be a kink?). He can feel the chuckle against his mouth, the slow roll of hips meeting his, and it seems like he’s not the only one enjoying this little bit of unintentional costume coordination. He eases back, smile blooming on his face as he rakes his eyes over his husband again, gently urging him to spin so he can see just how tight those pants really are. He’s pleasantly unsurprised that Stiles was able to find a pair that hugged him as tightly as Derek’s usually did, and very happy he had on slightly looser ones tonight, he’d definitely need the extra room if they didn’t get some distance between them pretty quick. He took a reluctant step back, turning to pour Stiles a cup of beer from one of the pitchers the pack had ordered, taking care to make sure he didn’t grab the one laced with mild wolfsbane. When he turned back to face Stiles and pass it off, he found his husband had moved closer again, but was now edged off slightly to the side of him, the better to talk and not get lost rubbing up against one another.
“You look awesome! I’m glad you came out and dressed up.” The smile was genuine, the happiness radiating off his husband infectious, and he found he had no trouble smiling back.
“Really? She hates how I dress, so you know, good job getting that to happen.”
“Yeah, she didn’t find it as entertaining as I did, but she did a great job with the hair and makeup.” Stiles was about to say something back when the rest of the pack came tumbling off the dancefloor – all of them freezing as they caught sight of the two men. They stood, varying shocked expressions on their faces, before Erica broke the silence, cackling with glee and flinging herself first at Derek then at Stiles, leaving lipstick prints on both of their cheeks.
“Only you two, Batman, only you two. Or should I be calling Derek Batman tonight?” Her smile was wide, joy radiating off of her and rebounding through the rest of the pack, all of them laughing and joking now that they’d taken it in.
“I’m still totally Batman. I’m probably more Batman right now than normal, because Derek is totally the one with the right backstory.” Erica laughs again before untangling herself from Stiles and returning to Boyd. They all re-up their drinks, everyone having a good time together around the tables before Kira and Isaac finally head off, their lunch hour over (and both of them in need of a jog around the block to air out the uniforms before they get back in the ambulance). Everyone takes that as a cue to get back on the floor and shake it, Derek and Stiles joining in this time, the hours flying by in waves of dancing and drinking and laughing. The longer the night goes on, the more relaxed Derek gets, happier with each minute ticking by that he came out tonight like Stiles had wanted. It’s 2am before they know it, the lights coming up and the DJ telling them all that they don’t have to go home, but they can’t stay here (and isn’t that something he hadn’t missed hearing – must be some sort of DJ handbook out there because they all seem to use that same line at closing time). They bid the rest of the pack goodnight before climbing into the Camaro – deciding to error on the side of caution and leave the Jeep here since Stiles had been drinking all night, and didn’t have the werewolf metabolism to burn the booze from his system.
“Oh my god, how the hell do you wear this shit all the time?” Stiles was mumbling loud enough for Derek to hear as he peeled out of the skintight clothes, clearly having difficulty removing them from where sweat had stuck the material to his body. Derek strode over to help, easily yanking the shirt off before tugging the jeans down, only having to wiggle them a few times as he dragged them off.
“You looked good in them though.” He smiled at his husband, pleased by the faint blush dusting across Stiles’ cheeks.
“Yeah. You should keep them. The contacts too.” His eyebrows lifted and fell quickly, not quite waggling like Stiles’ did, but he was sure the message got across.
“Yeah…I um…I can do that. You like the red eyes?” Derek’s eyes tracked the movement of Stiles’ mouth, the urge to press their mouths together stronger as he watched his husband nibbling on his own lips. It took a minute for the question to catch up to him, distracted as he was.
“Yeah, um…uh…” he could feel heat spreading across his own cheeks and up to the tips of his ears, the thought of Stiles with alpha eyes more of a turn on than he’d ever expected. He swallowed hard, eyes darting around in his embarrassment before he felt a hand on his cheek, pulling his face down the spare inch to so their lips could meet. The kiss was soft and sweet, and he could feel Stiles’ mouth drawing up into a smile as he pulled back.
“I can do that. For you.” It was a whisper, filled with promise, and he smiled in answer before gripping under Stiles’ thighs and hauling his husband up before tumbling them into the bed.