Chapter Text
Derek <3: Coach is determined to run me ragged
Stiles: Oh, my poor baby—I’ll have to kiss all your sore spots better
Derek <3: definitely something to look forward to ;)
Stiles was smiling down at his phone as he read Derek’s response.
“What’s got you in a good mood?”
Stiles looked up at Angela, blinking a few times before he realized she was in fact talking to him. “Oh, um,” he slightly shook his head as a blush started to tinge his cheeks. “Just my boyfriend texting me.”
He hesitated for a moment as he tried to think if he ever mentioned it before. He wasn’t ashamed of being out, just cautious when revealing it to his fellow classmates. Times were better, but people still held certain opinions.
Angela smiled, putting Stiles’ worries at ease for now. “You didn’t say you were dating anyone,” she commented, leaning in closer with intrigue. She had been very vibrant and talkative when Stiles first met her in his Astronomy course, happy that she took the reins in getting everyone beyond the first awkward icebreaker in their group.
Stiles smiled as he shrugged his shoulders. “He’s at USC so I don’t get to see him as often as I’d like.” Sadness pulled at Stiles’ gut as he thought about the games he had to miss over the past two months.
Despite their best efforts, Derek’s game days and training regime had very little wiggle room for visitors. And Stiles’ classes didn’t seem to care that Derek’s rare weekend lined up beautifully with the large tests and exams. His job at the library didn’t seem to care either. He was looking forward to Thanksgiving break, excited to see Derek in person instead of through a blurry box on his laptop.
“That’s so cute—are you high school sweethearts?”
“Sort of,” Stiles offered. He was aware of their other group members sitting down across the table. “We’ve been friends since we were kids. Started dating our senior year.”
“Dating who?” Mark asked as he set down the load of drinks he had piled in his arms.
“A secret,” Angela answered. She winked at Stiles. “I want photos,” she added at the level of a whisper.
~*~
Stiles held the wolf plushie against his chest, resting his chin on its head as he looked down at the laptop. “I hate that we aren’t together.”
Derek offered a small smile. “Me too,” he echoed. “Feels weird not being at your dad’s, handing out candy.”
Stiles tightened his hold on the plushie. He could still smell Derek’s cologne on it, smiling at the memory of Derek spraying it— to remember me by . “You could have gone out with your teammates.” As much as he loved seeing Derek in general, he knew that Halloween parties were raging across all college campuses right now—it wasn’t every year that Halloween landed on a Friday.
Derek made a face. “Yeah, be around a bunch of drunken idiots in dumb costumes.”
“It could be fun,” Stiles tried to sway him.
“Hey, I’m having fun,” Derek countered as he gestured at the streaming service they were watching together. They had been talking throughout the stream, ignoring the audio as it fell into background ambiance.
“I can’t wait to see you for Thanksgiving,” Stiles admitted. “Even if your mom does burn the turkey.”
“Chris is actually cooking it this year,” Derek corrected Stiles.
“Talia Hale let a man into her kitchen?”
Derek snorted. “A man who is dating Peter.”
Stiles laughed, “She must be truly desperate.”
“Well, it means Allison and Scott will be there—plus Melissa. Laura is bringing her girlfriend home, too,” Derek added as he picked up some candy from his ridiculously cliche pumpkin trick-or-treat pail. “So mom wants to make sure that it impresses. Chris sacrificed himself by admitting he cooked the turkey since before Allison was born.”
“I’m sure Peter is delighted,” Stiles answered.
“You mean that Chris Argent and his daughter won’t be celebrating Thanksgiving at the Mayor’s house?” Derek grinned. “I surely don’t know why you’d think Peter would be happy about that.”
Stiles laughed at imagining Gerard Argent’s face. “Going to be a full house.”
“We can still sneak off,” Derek offered.
Stiles made a face. “Derek Hale, are you trying to suggest I’d sneak off with you?”
Derek snorted, arching an eyebrow at Stiles. “Says the guy who snuck us off to have sex in the tree house before I left for football camp.”
Stiles tried to pretend his ears weren’t turning pink. “I’ll have you know I’m virginal.”
“Virginity is a social construct, Stiles,” Derek drawled, echoing Stiles’ own words about it whenever Jackson had been an ass. “Besides, after the 4th of July, neither of us are virgins of anything.”
Stiles remembered that weekend. He and Derek had been left alone at the lake house the Hales rented, Talia having to return for an emergency at the hospital while Peter and Chris remained in Beacon Hills when Cora insisted she was old enough to stay home alone.
Needless to say, Stiles lost count of how many times they had sex that weekend—many different places, many different positions.
“You’re not making it easy being this far apart,” Stiles criticized Derek.
Derek chuckled. “It will make the reunion that much better.”
Stiles hummed in agreement. “Considering the fact that I’m going to be driving back home with you after your Thanksgiving game, things might get delayed.”
A smirk started to pull at Derek’s lips. “You’re a minx.”
Stiles laughed, his heart feeling a bit lighter at knowing only a few more weekends separated him and Derek.
~*~
Stiles released a faint moan when Derek pressed him up against the wall. One of his hands clutched at the bulk of the pads along Derek’s shoulders, fingers digging into the collar of Derek’s jersey. His other hand grasped at Derek’s bicep as he steadied himself from falling sideways.
Derek was impulsive when it came to Stiles. And dropping his helmet when he saw Stiles standing in the tunnel was only the catalyst. He had left his helmet to be forgotten, drawing Stiles into a tight embrace as he kissed him.
Stiles hooked his legs around Derek’s waist when Derek’s hands slipped under his butt to lift him. “Derek,” he spoke his name in slight concern. “The game.”
Derek kept kissing Stiles, ignoring the cheers coming from outside the tunnel—the stomping in the bleachers reverberating through their near empty surroundings. “I can’t think of a game while I have you in my arms.”
Stiles pulled back, unable to stop his hips from shifting some, realizing Derek’s cup was pressed against him. He knew Derek wouldn’t drop him, and it added to his arousal. “You have your dick up against my ass. You’re not thinking straight.”
“I can’t think straight with you around,” Derek answered with a cocky grin. “I’m gay for you.”
Stiles snorted out a laugh. “Well, you can be extra gay when the game is over.” He unhooked his legs, being the responsible boyfriend in the moment. “Besides, I want to watch you run in these incredibly tight pants,” he smirked, allowing his hands to slip down and cup Derek’s ass.
Derek laughed, his smile pulling at his lips as he drew Stiles into another kiss.
“Hale!”
Derek pulled back abruptly, turning and looking down the tunnel. He lifted his arm up to signal that he had heard his coach.
“Get your ass on the field!”
Derek pulled away from Stiles, wishing his hands could linger as he started to head towards the stadium.
“Hey!”
Derek stopped, turning to look at Stiles. He smiled when he realized Stiles was hurrying towards him with his helmet in hand.
Stiles pressed up onto the balls of his feet, the slight incline and Derek’s gear making him even taller. He kissed Derek before pulling away and slipping the helmet onto Derek’s head. “Go kick their ass.”
~*~
Peter rolled his eyes when the people around him and Stiles cheered loudly—including Chris and John. He looked at Stiles, snorting in laughter when he saw a similar grimace on Stiles’ face. “Hopefully he gets drafted as a pro, that way we can watch from a private box.”
Stiles offered Peter a smile. He was proud of Derek for living his dream, but part of him was afraid Derek would want to professionally play. He thought of the injuries and trauma, remembering how worried Talia looked whenever Derek came home with his arms wrapped.
“Sit down,” Peter uttered in annoyance as he grabbed Chris by the belt loops, pulling the older man down onto the bleacher. “He’s not even your nephew.”
Chris looked at Peter, “Yet.”
Peter narrowed his eyes some, pretending he wasn’t blushing at the thought. “Shut up,” he muttered as he drank more of his beer.
Stiles looked at his dad, gently nudging shoulders with him. “Are you going to be okay to drive all the way back on your own?”
The Sheriff’s brow furrowed.
Stiles gestured his head towards Peter. “He’s on his fourth beer.”
John shook his head. “He claimed the back seat to lay down. Chris said he’d drive if I got tired.”
Stiles nodded.
“You probably shouldn’t let Derek drive tonight,” John uttered, his gaze returning to the field.
“We might crash in his dorm,” Stiles finally uttered, wishing he could time it better than when his dad’s attention was focused on him. “Football players are allowed an extra night before leaving—because of the game.”
“Uh huh,” John skeptically replied.
Stiles’ furious blush did nothing to argue John’s doubts.
~*~
Stiles pulled on the collar of his sweatshirt, smiling to himself as he rolled down one of the sleeves once more. He wasn’t sure if he accidentally took Derek’s USC football sweatshirt, or if Derek intentionally crammed it into his bag when they rushed to pack before heading back to school. He wasn’t complaining, enjoying having Derek’s sweatshirt to wear around campus. He felt important when people side eyed him curiously, as if they knew he had no love for football so it must have meant something else.
“Oh my gosh,” Angela uttered when she sat next to Stiles, her voice traveling through the library mezzanine. “Are you wearing your boyfriend’s sweatshirt?”
Stiles tried to hide his smile, knowing his blush was a sufficient answer.
“Damn, Stiles,” Angela uttered, a fond laugh bubbling up. “You never said you were tapping a football player.”
“What?” Mark asked as he slid into the seat directly across from Stiles. “Did I miss something again?” He asked in earnest, knowing he was missing something when Angela only laughed at him.
“Uh, my boyfriend,” Stiles explained, taking pity on Mark. He side eyed Daniel, not remembering exactly how open minded he was.
“I didn’t know you were dating someone,” Mark commented. “Damn, my girlfriend’s cousin thought you were cute.”
Stiles tilted his head. “I met your girlfriend? And her cousin?”
Angela laughed.
“She saw you from afar,” Mark sheepishly stated, briefly looking at Daniel when he finally sat next to him. “I think they stalked you on social media. She asked if the guy in your profile picture was your cousin or something.”
“Ah, no,” Stiles answered. “That’s my boyfriend.”
Mark’s eyebrows raised. “Nicely done, man.”
Stiles tried to ignore the heat on his neck.
“No way,” Daniel uttered, looking down at his phone.
Stiles bristled some in his seat when he saw that Daniel had pulled up his profile on Facebook.
Stiles’ profile picture was taken during the summer, at one of the bonfires on the shore of Beacon’s one lake. He was sitting in Derek’s lap, looking up at the camera. Derek’s hand was resting between Stiles’ knees—higher up between his thighs than a friendly gesture would be. His arm was wrapped around Derek’s neck, while Derek’s face was hidden in Stiles’ collarbone.
“Hot bod,” Angela commented when she saw Derek.
“Football does that,” Stiles curtly uttered, looking down at his textbook.
“No way you’re fucking a USC football player,” Daniel’s words cut through everyone’s playful banter.
Stiles looked up at Daniel, his stomach twisting with disbelief and annoyance. He couldn’t tell if Daniel was homophobic or just thought Stiles wasn’t attractive enough for Derek. In either case, he could fuck off.
“Wow, way to be an ass,” Angela plainly uttered, her glare pointing daggers at Daniel.
“There is no closeted football player on USC’s team,” Daniel stated. “It would be all over the place if one was in a relationship with another guy.”
“You’re right, there isn’t a closeted player,” Stiles snapped some. “Because Derek isn’t in the closet about his bisexuality.”
“You are not dating Derek Hale,” Daniel pushed back.
Stiles forgot how Derek was the only Derek on the USC football team. And any obsessed football fan would definitely recognize Derek thanks to his stats. He shook his head, standing up abruptly. “I’ve done my section and I’ll send it to you,” he spoke directly to Angela. “I don’t feel so well anymore.” He left without another word. He could hear them talking on the mezzanine, despite the distance he pushed between them.
Mark shifted papers at an uncomfortable pace. “Daniel, why would Stiles lie?”
“Attention,” Daniel gruffly stated.
“He has a picture with him,” Angela remarked.
Daniel scoffed, “He has his profile as private, you can’t even see if he’s in a relationship.”
“God, you’re such an ass,” Angela sighed.
Stiles tried to ignore the jealousy twisting his stomach.
~*~
“What, does he want to watch me jerk you off before he believes it?”
Stiles almost coughed out his soda. He couldn’t help his small smile, knowing Derek would make him feel better almost immediately.
“I’ve always thought I had an exhibition kink, we could try it,” Derek continued.
“Please, I’m self conscious enough,” Stiles mumbled.
Derek was quiet for a beat. “You know you’re incredibly sexy, right?”
Stiles shifted in the bed, feeling uncomfortable. Even after months of having sex, being naked in bed with Derek, he still felt the constant need to cover up. He never felt the freedom that Derek did with his nudity—he’d seen Derek naked enough to know Derek’s confidence wasn’t a lie.
“Stiles,” Derek pressed. “Please tell me you know that.”
“I know you tell me that,” Stiles finally answered.
Derek set down his drink, shifting and pulling his laptop closer as his face filled up the camera. “And I’m not wrong,” he firmly stated. “Do you have any idea how hard I got when I just saw you in the stadium tunnel before my game?”
Stiles looked down at his soda, fingernail picking at the plastic bottle top.
“I was lucky I had on a cup,” Derek added.
“Hard to walk?” Stiles looked up at Derek, snorting some when he saw Derek’s unimpressed face.
“More like, it hurt like hell,” Derek corrected him. “You are beautiful, though. I want you to know that.”
The small smile returned to Stiles’ lips.
~*~
Stiles picked at the label of his soda, his nail slipping beneath the damp paper as it easily tore. He knew when Derek would get there, knowing there was still at least half an hour before he got a text saying he arrived outside the lounge. He wasn’t even sure what anyone was calling it now, but it was nicer than any other college bar Stiles had heard about from his friends.
“A whole week in Cancun,” Angela sighed. “Who actually thinks that’s ideal?”
Stiles snorted out a laugh, taking a sip of his soda.
“I’m glad I’m going to be home, sleeping in late, and eating way too much junk food.”
“You’re not going to miss the experience?” Mark asked. His girlfriend, Ashley, had arrived last night, and she appeared more than at home next to Mark in their booth. They were an adorable couple, and it made Stiles happy to know Mark had someone special.
“A vacation I can barely afford, getting drunk and sunburnt on a beach in a place I don’t know?” Angela incredulously countered. “I’d be happier going on a museum tour of Europe.”
Stiles nodded his head, liking the sound of that. As long as he had Derek with him, he wouldn’t really care what the destination was.
“That sounds romantic,” Ashley noted, looking at Mark to see if he’d consider it.
“Yeah, that could be fun,” Mark replied, a slight panic in his expression when he realized Ashley might prefer that to their trip to Cancun. He looked at Stiles, fishing for help.
“I think the best vacations happen because of who you share it with,” Stiles honestly offered.
“That’s so sweet, Stiles,” Ashley answered, smiling at Mark. “I think so too.”
“Speaking of, where is tall and handsome?” Angela asked as she looked at Stiles.
Stiles pulled out his phone, checking to see if Derek said anything. “He should be here soon. I just hope he didn’t run out of gas in traffic.”
“I mean, the roads aren’t that bad from USC, are they?” Mark asked.
Stiles sighed. “He has a camaro,” he dejectedly admitted. “While it is a very sexy car, it is neither energy efficient or roomy.”
Angela snickered. “Typical athlete.”
Their conversation steered from topic to topic, Stiles occasionally checking his phone every other minute. It became more of a habit than a need, still feeling uneasy.
Daniel had joined them, and Stiles’ stomach couldn’t handle the way he kept side-eyeing him. It was as if Daniel’s gaze said enough of the way he thought of Stiles’ claim to be dating a USC football player.
Stiles started to make an excuse as he got up, disguising his plan to call Derek the minute he was out of ear range as a need for the bathroom.
“Maybe you should give Derek a call,” Daniel said in response. “He’s pretty late.”
Stiles never really thought he would hate someone as much as Theo, but Daniel was slowly climbing that ladder.
“Stiles can’t control the traffic,” Ashley stated, wrinkling her nose some as she looked at Daniel with distaste.
Stiles knew there was something about Ashley he liked.
Daniel shrugged, as if unaffected by Ashley’s reply.
“I’ll just call to see if he’s almost here. He said the gps told him 6,” Stiles softly stated.
“Yeah, but the gps knows shit about dinner traffic,” Angela offered.
“Yeah,” Stiles affirmed, looking up at the table as he stood. He hesitated when he saw Mark and Ashley staring at him.
Not at him--behind him.
“Hey, sexy, come here often?”
Stiles turned his head, catching sight of Derek smiling at him. “You asshole,” he fondly uttered, wrapping his arms around Derek’s shoulders in a tight embrace. “I was worried,” he softly spoke against Derek’s ear. He knew the crowd around them was loud, but having Derek so close made all that anxiety fade away.
“I’m sorry,” Derek apologized, a faint laugh huffing out when Stiles pulled back. “I took the wrong way.”
“You listened to the gps about a shorter route, didn’t you,” Stiles dryly stated.
“You’re meant to follow the gps, Stiles,” Derek sighed, a fond smile pulling at his lips.
“And now you’re 40 minutes late,” Stiles countered.
“38,” Derek corrected him.
“Don’t you remember what happened when we went to Disneyland?” Stiles turned to look at his friends, his words catching in his throat when he saw them all staring. Everyone always stared at Derek.
“That was adorable,” Angela stated first. “You’re basically an old married couple,” she explained to Stiles as she stood some, offering her hand to Derek. “Angela, nice to meet you.”
Derek reached around Stiles, shaking her hand. “I’ve been married to him since we were eight.”
Stiles ignored the blush burning his cheeks. “A bottle cap ring does not count--and last I checked, Boyd can’t legally marry anyone.”
Derek laughed, his breath touching the side of Stiles’ neck as he pressed against Stiles’ back.
“You didn’t tell me you had a fake marriage,” Angela stated with intrigue.
Ashley reached across the table, offering her hand. “Hi, I’m Ashley. I’m sorry, but I Facebook stalked you and Stiles.”
Derek laughed, shaking her hand. “That’s okay, I don’t update that often anyways.”
“I’m Mark’s girlfriend, so I wanted to know as much as possible about everyone else,” Ashley word vomited out, looking as if she was nervous at having admitted her social media research.
“As the other plus one, I feel your pain.”
Ashley smiled at Derek’s words, relaxing back against Mark.
Mark shook Derek’s hand next, wincing some, “Mark. And sorry, but I don’t know anything about football, but I’ve been assured you’re awesome.”
Derek smiled and nodded. “All good, he hates football,” he gestured his head at Stiles.
“Yes, I should love seeing my boyfriend getting tackled,” Stiles dryly stated, moving to sit back in the booth next to Angela.
Daniel was the last person Derek greeted. “Daniel.”
Derek looked at Daniel as he shook his hand, pointedly tightening his grip some. “Nice to meet you,” he uttered, his voice even despite the lack of playfulness that he had when speaking to the others.
Stiles was happier than he thought he’d be when Derek sat with his arm around him. He sunk into Derek’s side, feeling at home. He looked forward to being back in Beacon Hills with Derek for the week, but having Derek here with his friends made something pull at Stiles’ chest. A type of smug pride at how happy he felt.
After a while, Derek offered to get another set of drinks. He eased off his jacket as he stood, sliding the leather off his shoulders and arms before reaching to hang it on the hook next to the booth. He started to roll his sleeves as he looked down at Stiles.
“You don’t have to get a round for everyone,” Stiles stated, leaning in closer to Derek.
“I want to,” Derek answered, leaning down to press a kiss to Stiles’ lips. He looked up at the others, taking their drink order before departing for the bar.
Stiles tilted his head slightly as he regarded Derek from afar. He had smiled when seeing the bottle cap necklace falling out from beneath Derek’s open collar—he knew Derek still wore it, but it made his stomach tumble with joyful butterflies whenever he saw it. He wasn’t surprised by Derek wearing another thin henley that hid little, small patches appearing darker where Derek’s chest hair contrasted against his skin tone. He still didn’t understand how Derek got in and out of his jeans, as if they were painted on in some cases.
Stiles looked back at the others, nipping his cheek when he saw they were looking at him now.
“He’s really sweet, Stiles,” Ashley stated with a smile. “He’s totally enamored with you too.”
Stiles smiled back at Ashley. “Thanks. It’s nice having him here.” He felt awkward, not knowing what to say beyond that. He didn’t want to seem awkward but, people just seemed to focus on Derek whenever they were together. It was different to have his friends being introduced to Derek with no prior knowledge.
“He’s like … built, dude,” Mark commented.
Ashley rolled her eyes, fondly tapping Mark’s arm as if she was comforting a child’s silly observation.
Angela snorted.
Stiles was unable to stop himself from laughing a bit. “He put on a lot of muscle once he started at USC. He’ll probably end up ordering food actually—he can’t go an hour without eating.”
“He’s that serious about football, huh?” Daniel commented.
Stiles looked at Daniel. He wasn’t sure what Daniel’s problem had been since Derek’s very existence was mentioned. He didn’t know if it was ignorance, or if Daniel had a personal problem with Stiles. Whatever it was, he wished he could knock some sense into him.
“He got football scholarships to about a dozen schools,” Stiles explained instead. “He wasn’t lying when he said I disliked football, but I know what he’s capable of on a football field.” He focused on twisting his soda in circles on the table, feeling everyone’s eyes on him. “What he does is nothing short of incredible. He’s … he’s beautiful on that field when he’s running plays. But I don’t like him getting hurt.” He shrugged his shoulders, trying to not focus on the feeling of tears burning the back of his throat. “But I also support him in whatever he wants to do, just like he supports me becoming a historian.”
Angela bumped shoulders with Stiles, a reassurance that his heart being in the right place was the best thing.
“It’s good that he is out,” Daniel suddenly stated.
Stiles looked at Daniel, surprised at how nice he sounded.
“It would be shitty of him to chase that dream while expecting you to hide,” Daniel finally explained when Mark and Ashley looked at him.
Stiles released a heavy breath, suddenly realizing that maybe Daniel wasn’t as much of an ass as he thought.
There were no openly gay athletes in the NFL, and if Derek wanted to continue his career, he’d be fighting against that status quo.
And maybe Daniel had made the assumption Derek wasn’t actually open, because it never came up in any of the publicity surrounding him. Stiles remembered Derek mentioning how his coach suggested he could win aHeisman’s trophy—that would be a turning point, and all the cameras would be pointing at Derek and dissecting his life.
Their life.
Stiles pushed those thoughts away as Derek’s warmth returned to his side. He looked at him, smiling when Derek placed his arm around him.
“I definitely ordered food, too, by the way.”
Stiles laughed, “I told you so.”
Regardless of what happened, he was happy for the now. He’d work with Derek on whatever happened after this moment.
~*~
4 years later...
Derek’s leg was shaking.
It was something Stiles had always done when waiting, and Derek was convinced he picked it up from him.
Derek’s eyes were fixed on the television screen with the commentators, listening to people he never met talk about not only his own future, but also the futures of several of the men he met today. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if he didn’t get drafted—but the longer it took him from his college career, the further his chances fell. He felt sick with nervousness.
He almost never got nerves, the one major exception being when he proposed to Stiles last Halloween.
They were at Stiles’ house, on candy duty while the Sheriff was on shift. Derek had convinced Stiles to trust him, placing a blindfold on him and pulling him out to the backyard. He could tell Stiles was nervous, despite his joking nature. He had to catch his breath when he knelt down in front of Stiles, looking up at him with so much hope in his heart.
Stiles had removed the blindfold when Derek told him to, softly laughing as he finally opened his eyes. His breath caught when he realized Derek was kneeling. He only turned to look at the sandbox when Derek gestured his head to the side. He released a watery laugh when he saw the words ‘Stiles, will you marry me?’ traced into the sand. When he turned back to Derek, he placed a hand over his mouth at seeing the ring nestled in a box resting in Derek’s hands.
Stiles had just started his job as an archivist’s assistant at Beacon’s Historical Society, a part time appointment as he worked on his masters. Derek delayed his announcement as candidate for the NFL draft, wanting to finish out his college career. Some called him an idiot for delaying, but it felt right in the moment. And right now, Derek wasn’t sure what decision he should have made—he at least had Stiles.
“Babe.”
A familiar hand touched Derek’s knee, gently pressing down to stop the restless motion. Fingers dipped and caressed the inside of Derek’s thigh in a calming manner. The engagement band Derek had given Stiles was resting on his ring finger.
Nobody would dare touch Derek this intimately but Stiles. Maybe a few forward women or bold men whenever Stiles wasn’t with him. He was an NFL hopeful on paper, and a budding gay icon in the media.
Derek tended to have a pissed off face when dealing with anything football related, and it scared more people than not into avoiding him. It was something he adopted to keep the homophobes away after Stiles came for his first game at USC after it was announced Derek won the Heisman trophy that year. He would have punched the guy who used the f-word when Stiles hugged Derek in the stadium tunnel, but Stiles pulled him back, telling him to let the game decide.
Stiles always grounded Derek—it’s what he alway did.
Derek turned to look at Stiles, offering a forced smile in hopes it would reassure him.
“You’re going to vibrate off the couch,” Stiles jokingly uttered.
“Sorry,” Derek mumbled as he leaned back on the couch, rubbing his hands over his face as he released a harsh breath.
“Hey, talk to me,” Stiles gently prompted, turning his body towards Derek.
“I shouldn’t have come here,” Derek finally admitted as he looked up at the ceiling. “They invited me for the publicity.”
Stiles frowned at Derek’s words.
“They’re not going to draft an openly gay player,” Derek bitterly spoke his concern.
Stiles frowned as he looked away. “I shouldn’t have come with you then.”
“No,” Derek quickly uttered, reaching out to cup Stiles’ face in his hands as he sat up. He pressed a kiss to Stiles’ lips, grounding himself in the moment. “I didn’t mean it like that, babe. I want you here.”
Stiles ran his hand along Derek’s cheek, his thumb brushing through the short hairs of his beard. “If I cost you this—”
“You’re not costing me anything,” Derek firmly stated. “They’re the homophobes if they don’t draft me because I’m marrying another guy.”
Stiles faintly smiled. He liked being reminded that they were engaged. “Not only homophobes, but idiots.”
Derek lightly chuckled as he allowed his hands to drop from Stiles’ face. “I’m just on edge—annoyed with all the media. How they’ll spin this if I don’t get picked.” He shook his head. “And even if I do get picked, they’ll say it’s a PR stunt.”
There were going to be dozens of photos of them both in the sports magazines if Derek was drafted this weekend. If not, there might be a few detailed in the LGBTQ magazines focusing on sports.
Derek hadn’t let go of Stiles’ hand when they got out of the car, holding on even tighter when he felt Stiles try to pull away when the first camera flash went off. There were a few people asking questions, but Derek only smiled and waved at them, walking with Stiles into the building.
“That’s bullshit,” Stiles uttered. “You are one of the best players here.”
Derek looked at Stiles. “You’re biased,” he answered. He did a small scan around the room, noticing that some of the guys were looking at them.
Stiles shook his head. “You’re a Heisman winner, for fuck’s sake,” he replied. “And your stats are off the chart.”
Derek snorted at Stiles. “You don’t even like football, how do you know my stats are worth shit?”
Stiles rolled his eyes, “Fine, I asked Chris to explain, and Allison did an even better job of teaching me more than half the lingo.”
Derek pulled Stiles into a kiss. “I love having a nerdy fiance.”
Stiles made a slight noise against Derek’s lips. “I love having a meathead for a fiance.”
Derek smiled at that.
Air rushed out of the room whenever there was a representative on stage, announcing their pick. Another person called, cheers reverberating through the room. It became automatic to clap in response to someone else being picked. The picks for first round were coming to close, and people were on edge.
There were only two teams left, and Derek was resigned that they’d be here until Sunday night, already mentally calculating their journey back home.
And then one of the men on stage said his name.
“... select Derek Hale, Wide-Receiver, USC.”
There was clapping even in the green room, and an uproar loudly blocking out any jeering that was happening in the limited crowd gathered in front of the stage.
“Babe, they called you,” Stiles’ voice was calm, despite the disbelief on his face.
Derek grabbed Stiles, drawing him into a tight hug. He knew the cameras were coming in close to get any image they could use for click bait.
Stiles kissed the corner of Derek’s lips, saying he was proud of him as he took a step back and gestured him to go towards the tunnel that would lead to the stage.
~*~
“At 6 feet tall, 228 pounds, Hale averages out to be in decent shape for a wide-receiver. However, his play stats from USC are incredible, it’s not shocking he made the first round of picks because of what’s on paper. But he could also be considered, by some, as a character risk. He is the first openly homosexual football player to be playing in the NFL. Most players come out after their retirement, or are overlooked by the draft. This could affect his future career depending on how fans accept or deny him.”
“Wow, fucking asshole,” Stiles harshly uttered. “Character risk. That’s supposed to be about domestic abusers and shit.”
“It could have been worse, I guess,” Derek replied, his hand gently touching Stiles’ shoulder.
Stiles was hunched up on the edge of their couch, glaring and huffing at the television as the commentators continued. “Homosexual. You’re bisexual.”
“Engaged to a man,” Derek added.
“Stop trying to defend them,” Stiles turned back to look at Derek.
Derek faintly laughed. “Babe,” he softly said as he sat up closer to Stiles. “I’m a proud bisexual, in a loving relationship with the love of my life who happens to be a man.” He placed a kiss against Stiles’ shoulder, his lips brushing along Stiles’ skin as he kept eye contact with him. “I could tell them all to fuck off, as long as I had you.”
“And a 5 million dollar wrongful termination policy in your contract?”
Derek shook his head. “We’re set for life, even if I get injured in my first game,” he reasoned. “So you can’t leave me because I’m a bum.”
Stiles’ brow furrowed. “Don’t talk like that,” he uttered. “You know I’d love you even if you were one.”
“Even if I get fat and bald?”
Stiles pretended to wrinkle his nose. “Oh no, that’s pushing it,” he started, laughing half way through when Derek began tickling him. “Alright!” He breathlessly shouted. “If you sign the deal with Under Armor, I’ll allow you to lose your looks later on.”
Derek laughed at that. “If you want to see me in Under Armor, you just have to ask.”
Stiles hummed, relaxing into Derek’s arms as he turned to look at him. “You know I don’t mean any of that, right? I loved you when you were pudgy with braces,” he explained, reaching a hand up to touch Derek’s cheek. “I’m going to keep loving you until we’re both old and decrepit.”
Derek leaned down to kiss Stiles. “Sandbox love is forever, huh,” he spoke against Stiles’ lips.
Stiles gently nodded his head. “Forever.”