Derek wakes up wanting Stiles. Which is normal, now that he pretty much can have him whenever he wants.But it’s much worse when he wakes up in Stiles’ bed. Stiles’ scent is all over the room, obviously. It’s even more concentrated in the bed. So before Derek even entertains the thought of getting out of bed, he rolls around in the sheets. Now it smells more like DerekandStiles. As it should. He stuffs his face in Stiles’ pillow and inhales deeply. Which doesn’t quell the thoughts of want Stiles right now under me over me don’t care. Not that he thought it would.
He gets up finally. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he listens, seeing who is in the house. Nothing from the Sherriff’s room. Nothing from the living room, which means all his betas are out doing other things. Good. He hears Stiles in the kitchen…singing?
Derek moves down the stairs and stands in the doorway of the kitchen.
Stiles is standing at the counter. “Like hamlet, all about ‘words, words, words’ divide a carrot into thirds, thirds, thirds.” He strikes at the carrot every time he says thirds. Derek feels himself smirk. He takes a few steps toward Stiles, intending to grab his hips. Which are being shaken, which Derek needs to stop or he’ll have to take Stiles right there on the kitchen floor. “I’m a gay sea otter. I blow other dudes out of the water.”
Derek snorts from right behind Stiles. Stiles flails, which was expected, and also manages to slice his hand open with the knife, which was not expected.
“OW! Jesus, creeper-wolf. Give a guy some warning. Also medical attention. Give a guy some medical attention because he just sliced the SHIT out of his hand. OW!”
And Derek’s sex drive goes straight out the window because Stiles is bleeding and it isn’t okay.
The next night, Derek is in Stiles’ bed. Stiles is changing into pajamas and dancing. It is probably the least graceful thing Derek has ever seen, and he doesn’t understand why it does it for him. But suddenly, he’s pretty sure Stiles should leave the pajamas on the floor and just hurry up and get in bed.
As soon as Stiles gets the tee-shirt all the way over his head, he starts singing again. “But more than all of that I love the fact that you are dumb enough, to not realize everything I’ve said has been said before, in a thousand ways, in a thousand songs, sung with the same four chords.”
And Derek knows he’s being ridiculous. But his heart clutches and he feels his eyes go wide. When Stiles turns around to look at him, he grins. Derek just looks at him, flashbacks of Kate, saying she loved him, then saying she didn’t, and suddenly Derek wants to hit something. Which must show in his expression, because Stiles’ grin slides right off his face.
Stiles approaches Derek slowly, hands up in the classic I-surrender position. Derek doesn’t want that. Stiles didn’t do anything, there’s no battle there. He growls, but not at Stiles.
“Heeey, big guy. No worries. It was just a song. It’s not actually about anybody, it’s about shitty music.” Stiles comes to sit next to him. “Ease up on the man-pain. I’m here. I love you. We’re the real deal whether you like it or not.”
“I like it,” Derek growls.
Stiles chuckles. “It sounds like it.” And then he’s in Derek’s lap and petting his hair and his neck.
Derek hasn’t thought about Kate in months. Now he can’t stop. He just wants to sleep it off with Stiles curled up next to him.
“Dad’s working the night shift. Let’s go put on a movie and sleep on the couch.”
Derek knows that’s Stiles saying they don’t have to have sex. They tried that once on the couch, but Stiles fell off and bruised his elbow. That was Stiles saying they could cuddle and forget about it, without offending his “alpha sensibilities” with the word cuddle.
“Okay.” One soft, comforting kiss, and they headed down stairs.
Derek and Stiles are in a tree. Well. Sort of. They’re on an observation platform attached to a tree. They’re observing.
Derek observes the way Stiles’ back curves into his ass. And Stiles seems to be observing how many different sounds he can get Derek to make by pulling his hair.
Stiles’ phone starts ringing. Derek listens to the ringtone as he pulls it out of his pocket.
“My whole family thinks I'm gay,
I guess it's always been that way.
Maybe it's 'cause of the way that I walk
Makes them think I like... boys.”
He steps back. “What the hell, Stiles?”
Stiles just shrugs. “It’s my dad.”
Derek turns to hide his smile. Unfortunately, he steps of the platform.
He’s actually taken by surprise, which only happens when he’s with Stiles, dammit. He hits the ground with a thud. Looking up, he can see the boy leaning over the edge, trying not to laugh.
“No. Yeah, Dad. I’ll be home in a little bit. No, I’m fine. Scott said something funny. Okay. See you soon.” He hangs up. “Dude!” And he’s laughing. At Derek. Because Derek walked out of a tree.
Derek gets up, brushes himself off, and leaves. He hears Stiles scrambling to get out of the tree. Derek doesn’t look back. Stiles is still laughing.
“I’m,” he’s puffing from laughter and the exertion of getting down and running up to Derek, “I’m sorry. But wow. Okay.” He’s trying to compose himself. “I won’t tell the betas.”
Derek turns to thank him. Or growl at him. He hasn’t decided yet. But he sees Erica’s curls whip around behind a tree and knows it’s too late. He stomps off toward the house, leaving Stiles giggling behind him.
“Mmm. I love it when you go all mono-syllabic on me. Cavemen are totally sexy.”
“Stiles,” Derek warns, gripping his hips tighter.
“You know that song that was my ringtone when you walked off the tree the other day?”
Derek stills and narrows his eyes at Stiles. “Yes.”
“There’s this song by him called Love Is… and when you start grunting at me like that, not that I don’t like it. It’s actually pretty hot. But there’s this line that-“
“Stiles! Now? Really?”
And Stiles just narrows his eyes right back at Derek. “Fine. I’ll just play it for you later.” And he resumes as if he’d never interrupted the rhythm they’d found. Derek tries to keep going. He wants to. And Stiles is making all his wonderful little sounds. But now Derek really needs to know what Stiles was going to say. About his grunting.
“Still with me, babe?” Stiles pants.
Derek realizes he may have sort of stopped moving. “What was the line?”
Stiles blinks at him. “The…the Bo Burnham line? From the song? What? I thought we’d moved on from that.”
“Just. What was it, Stiles?”
“It’s not even important. It’s like, ‘There’s wooly mammoths, I’ll protect us. You’re making me devolve to a homo erectus.’ It’s just funny, ‘cause you do your grunting thing and it makes me think of Bo.”
“It makes you. You think about Bo Burnham when we have sex?”
“What? What are you. No. I think about that song. And you protecting me from wooly mammoths and other various big bads. And the fact that you know, you do the grunting like a cave man. Could. If we’re going to talk, could you maybe get off of me? While we’re talking. You’re heavy, hun.” Stiles reached up to pat his shoulder and Derek rolled over to lay next to Stiles on the mattress.
“You really like that guy, huh?” And Derek tries, desperately, to keep the hint of jealousy out of his voice. But as usual Stiles sees right through it.
“Seriously? Is this happening? Yes. He’s not bad to look at and he writes amazing songs. But it is not a thing.”
“We keep not having sex because of him.”
Stiles sits up and gapes at him. “No. We keep not having sex because you keep reacting to him. There is no one, not even Bo Burnham, that I would rather be in bed with. You have to remember that. But, my dad will be here in like 15 minutes, so you should probably go for a couple hours.”
Derek feels guilty and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t feel like he’s done anything wrong. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, moving to get off the bed. Stiles grabs his wrist and jerks him back.
“I love you, sourwolf. Even when you’re grumpy.” And they’re kissing. And Stiles pushes Derek off the bed, but he totally catches himself and doesn’t feel like an idiot. Which is an improvement over his mood of late.
“When I come back, you’re playing the song,” he commands as he’s going out the window.
Stiles just rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say, weirdo.”
Derek actually sort of likes Bo Burnham. Stiles makes him a CD. Next time they’re parked and making out, it’s playing, because it’s pretty much always what’s in the player. It’s up loud, because, as suspicious as a black car parked with music playing is, a black car parked with Derek growling and Stiles yelling, “Fuck! Derek!” is just obvious. And that’s where it always ends up.
Unfortunately, as soon as Stiles starts getting handsy, there’s a tapping on the window.
Derek flails. Stiles definitely notices Derek flailing, but he kindly says nothing. He fixes his clothes and turns down the music. Derek rolls the window down.
Stiles chokes. “Oh. Hi, Dad. Um. Hi.”
The sheriff looks from Stiles to Derek and back again. “I thought that was your music. And Derek’s car. Parked. In an alley. At night. You see where I’m going with this, son? The conclusions I might be drawing?”
Derek turns to look at Stiles, panic clear in his eyes.
Stiles just starts laughing. Derek is looking at him like he’s crazy and turns to say something to the sheriff, but his face is so stern that Derek can’t make words come out. He decides to give up. He crossed his arms on the steering wheel and buries his face in them.
“Dad. Dad,” Stiles finally manages. “Derek and I are dating. Surprise! And, uh, I realize that there are a lot of conversations you and I need to have. But. Good job for recognizing Bo.”
“Out, Stiles. I’ll give you a ride home. And I will go in and get someone to cover the rest of my shift. And I will come home, have a drink, and we will talk. About everything.”
“But, Dad, Derek can-“
Derek actually moans, “Please, Stiles. Oh god. Please just go with your dad.”
And Stiles looks bewildered, until Derek looks him in the eye and Stiles can see the panic there. Then he grins and leans over to peck him on the cheek before getting out.
Derek expects Stiles’ dad to follow him to the car. He just leans even closer to Derek and whispers, “And tomorrow, you’re coming over. And I’ll have a drink. And we’ll talk about everything. You read me, son?”
“Yes sir,” Derek whimpers.
He waits until the squad car has left before he goes straight to the Hale house.
Stiles is at the store and his dad isn’t off for another couple hours. Derek is doing the dishes, cleaning up from dinner a little, because Stiles volunteered to go for dessert.
He lets his mind wander back to when he last did the dishes from a family meal. It had been with Laura. They hadn’t been happy, exactly. But they’d been coping. Laura was working and Derek was in school and they had quiet dinners together and took turns doing dishes.
He was smiling, thinking about Laura, listening to Oh Bo coming in from the living room. He didn’t realize he’d been singing until he was cut off by a hand down his pants. “Ohhh, oh, B-oh. Stiles.”
“Bedroom,” was all Stiles said.
Derek turned off the CD player in the living room and quickly followed his boyfriend up the stairs.