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Derek jerked his head up from the document he was translating when he heard the elevator down the hall followed by footsteps heading towards his door. He tilted his head when he recognized Stiles’ heartbeat. He relaxed slightly when he realized Stiles was alone. He wasn’t sure why he was at the loft a day earlier than planned, but apparently Derek didn’t have to face seeing him with Bryan yet.
“Hi, Stiles” he said, opening the door before Stiles knocked.
Stiles stood there with his hand still raised and his mouth slightly open.
“Right. That’s never going to get less creepy.”
Derek rolled his eyes. “Nearly eight years, Stiles. You know you can’t sneak up on a wolf.”
“Hey, I will have you know I sneak up on Scott at least once every two, well, maybe three, months,” Stiles snarked, stepping past Derek into the loft.
Derek couldn’t help but breathe in his scent.
To his relief, but also his confusion, Stiles only smelled of himself: old books, too much coffee and snack food, the sharp edge of adderall, a hint of ozone from his magic, and something else Derek could never hope to describe that just screamed Stiles. Unlike when he saw the younger man at Christmas though, the edge of his boyfriend’s scent was missing. He still didn’t smell right—not enough of his father, of the pack, of Derek, but he didn’t smell wrong anymore.
As soon as Derek closed the door, Stiles turned and flung his arms wide. “Hug time, big guy!”
Derek rolled his eyes for form’s sake, but carefully wrapped his arms around Stiles. He wasn’t expecting it when Stiles basically collapsed against him, clinging with his long arms. He just ran his hands over Stiles’ back and took advantage of the opportunity to hold him.
He got worried when Stiles stuck his face in the curve of Derek’s neck. It wasn’t how they hugged, and, more to the point, Stiles had spent too many years around wolves to not know what he was doing to Derek’s instincts.
What Derek should have done was gently disentangle Stiles’ arms and step back so he could look at him. What he actually did was thread his hand into the back of Stiles’ hair and use it to pull his head up so he made eye contact.
Stiles allowed Derek to move him, but he only met his eyes briefly before pulling away.
“Sorry about that, dude. It’s just been awhile since I was around pack, and…” He shrugged instead of going on, then headed into the kitchen. “Do you have any coffee? I didn’t get a lot of sleep.”
Derek thought about pointing out that Stiles didn’t usually nuzzle the necks of people in the pack, but then Stiles might ask him if it bothered him and he’d have to decide between confessing how much it really didn’t or lying and risk Stiles never doing it again. Instead, he followed Stiles.
“What are you doing here? I didn’t expect you until tomorrow night.”
Lydia was going to be back in Beacon Hills in the morning—the last of the pack to come home—so they were all going to have dinner at the loft. Stiles was supposed to bring Bryan.
“What’s that face for?”
Derek wasn’t aware his lip was curled into a sneer until Stiles asked the question. He shook his head.
“It doesn’t matter. Why are you stealing my coffee instead of out getting some with your boyfriend?”
He was very careful to keep his tone neutral on the phrase ‘your boyfriend’. He didn’t think he would have managed if he was trying to use the guy’s actual name. Plus, maybe the term would remind him that it didn’t matter where Stiles stuck his face, he wasn’t Derek’s.
Stiles made a face. Derek couldn’t really interpret it—something wry, something angry, something sad. “It turns out Bryan is too cool for people who are ‘too boring and unimaginative to explore the world outside of their tiny hometowns’. He’s off to Europe to explore life with ‘people who don’t hide from the world by trying to relive their high school glory days’.”
“You didn’t have high school glory days,” Derek said inanely.
He wasn’t sure why he said it, but he was glad he got something out that hid the way he was cycling between anger that someone who’d claimed to love Stiles could be so dismissive of everything he’d gone through and done, and too much relief to contemplate that he wouldn’t have to watch Stiles with someone else the following night.
Stiles snorted. “Thanks, dude. That’s exactly what I need right now. A reminder of how much of a loser I was.”
“Was?”
“Oh fuck off, sourwolf. I did some pretty great things during high school. Just because I couldn’t tell him about any of them doesn’t make them any less badass.”
Derek had to reach out and rescue the coffee canister from Stiles’ flailing arm. He nudged him away and took over making the coffee. He was halfway through adding the grounds to the filter when he paused. “Wait. Boring and unimaginative?”
Something went sour in Stiles’ scent. “Yeah, apparently I’m both of those things. In life, because I’m moving back here. In bed, because, well, I don’t know, I didn’t stick around for updated feedback there.”
Derek carefully unclenched his fingers before he broke the now-mangled handle of the coffee scoop completely in half. “You’re annoying, yeah, but I would never call you boring.”
Derek wasn’t touching the idea of how Stiles was in bed. He found ‘boring and unimaginative’ impossible to picture, but he tried to keep all of the images in his mind of how he thought Stiles would be locked away when he wasn’t alone. Boring had never played a part. Stiles was endlessly creative in the rest of his life—it was part of what made him such an asset to the pack. It seemed unlikely that would disappear once his clothes came off.
“Not nice, dude.”
Stiles sounded more amused than hurt, so Derek just shrugged and filled the carafe with water.
“Not to worry though, I have a plan.”
“A plan?” Derek flipped the on switch and turned back to Stiles.
“Yeah, dude. A plan to make sure I don’t get dumped like this again.”
Derek could think of one absolutely certain way Stiles could prevent himself from being dumped, but it required Derek to talk about his feelings and, well—. It wasn’t the right time for that anyway. Stiles had just been dumped. Derek wasn’t so bad a friend that he was going to rush right in and offer himself as the solution to all of his troubles. Not yet, anyway.
He fixed Stiles’ coffee first, handing it to him before turning to his own mug.
Stiles looked surprised when Derek handed him the mug. “Oh, thanks, dude.” He took a sip. “You got it right!”
Derek looked at him askance. Of course he’d gotten it right. Stiles hadn’t changed how he took his coffee the entire time they’d known each other.
“Don’t call me dude.”
Stiles rolled his eyes. “Whatever, dude. So, you wanna hear my plan?”
Derek did not want to hear Stiles’ plan, unless it was ‘date my hopelessly pining emotionally constipated alpha’, which seemed unlikely to be the case.
“Sure.”
He sat down in his armchair and watched Stiles pace in front of the windows. Stiles at 23 was just as energetic as he’d been at 16, but there was an assuredness that had been missing when they first met. He’d grown into his limbs. He would always be lanky, but he no longer seemed like a puppy tripping over his feet. He moved with a confidence his 16-year-old self had never come anywhere near close to faking.
“Stiles,” he prompted when Stiles seemed to be content walking back and forth, muttering slightly. He wasn’t even using actual words, just scattered syllables and sounds. He swung around when Derek spoke, making a questioning face.
“Your plan?”
“Oh! Right. My plan.” He paused, then rushed into speech. “I’ve been honing my wiles, and I think I’ve gotten to the point that no one will ever leave me. All that’s left is testing to be sure.” He stopped talking and looked at Derek in expectation.
“Your…wiles.”
Derek wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but that was more succinct with fewer steps than Stiles’ normal plans. It was also one eyebrow waggle away from ludicrous, which was one hallmark of a Stiles Stilinski Plan.
“Yeah, man. My moves, my fetching ways, my wiles.”
There went the brows, waggling away.
“Stiles, you don’t have wiles.”
“Of course I do! I am the wiliest. You know what, I’ll prove it.”
Derek felt a brief spasm of terror when Stiles turned and pointed one long, bony finger at his face.
“I am going to use my wiles to woo the shit out of you.”
Derek was glad he was already sitting. He made a scoffing sound, purely out of habit, and wished desperately that he had never started this conversation.
Stiles retracted his finger and took a sip of his coffee. “No, no, this is good. You’re the perfect person to test this on. I would be spending time around you anyway, and the fact that you’re entirely out of my league means there’s no risk of leading you on, especially since you know the plan, and yes, yes, this is perfect!”
Stiles looked triumphant when he finished speaking. Derek felt himself staring. There was so much wrong with that speech, but he didn’t know whether to start with the idea that he was out of Stiles’ league or maybe try to find a way to express that “no risk” wasn’t quite the way he would put that.
He was still trying to decide when Stiles plopped down on the couch and grabbed the remote. Stiles turned on The Avengers, so apparently Derek had some time to try and find words.
Everything started going to hell a few days after that conversation. Derek had been concerned about what Stiles might do, but when he was his normal self around Derek and the pack the next night, Derek allowed himself to relax.
That was a mistake.
They were out in the Preserve one night doing some training. Derek wasn’t entirely sure why Stiles was there. The exercises were mostly focused on scenting, but Stiles had shown up along with Scott. He seemed content to just hang around with Derek though, so Derek decided to just go with it.
“You look cold.”
It took Derek a minute to realize Stiles was talking to him.
“What?”
“You look cold.”
Stiles began to struggle his way out of his hoodie, getting tangled up while he tried to get it off without taking the flannel underneath it along. Derek just watched, bemused.
“Here, take this.” Stiles thrust the hoodie at Derek.
“It’s 60 degrees and I’m a werewolf.”
Stiles shook the hoodie at him. “Your bare arms are making me cold. Just take it.”
His heart had skipped, so Derek knew it was a lie, but Stiles was determined.
Oh. Apparently Stiles hadn’t forgotten his plan to prove he had wiles. Giving his hoodie to a werewolf was an odd choice, but he had probably googled for ideas and hadn’t adjusted them for his audience. Or he doesn’t plan on doing this for real with a werewolf.
Derek huffed and grabbed the hoodie. It smelled like Stiles, and he couldn’t resist the opportunity to get some of Stiles’ scent on him. He would probably regret knowing what they smelled like together, but what was one more regret in the grand scheme of things?
Half an hour later the temperature had dropped a few more degrees and Stiles was shivering. Derek huffed and pulled off the hoodie.
Stiles didn’t even bother to protest, just pulled it back on and zipped it up, stuffing his hands in the pockets.
Derek realized his mistake when he took in a breath to search for the next scent in his exercise. All he could smell was himself on Stiles. He’d wanted to smell like Stiles, but he wasn’t prepared for Stiles to smell like him—like them.
He wasn’t sure how he got through the rest of the exercise and sending everyone home. It wasn’t until after he had jerked off thinking about how his scent mingled with Stiles—frustrated, but unable to help himself—that he remembered that Stiles had been around wolves for years. He knew about scenting. Had he been trying to mingle their scents on purpose?
A few weeks after the hoodie incident, Derek was in the kitchen when Stiles stumbled through the door, arms full of grocery bags. He watched as the younger man dug through the bags before emerging with a triumphant cry and one of those little heart-shaped chocolate boxes that were always in the stores around Valentine’s Day.
“For you, sourwolf!”
Stiles aggressively thrust the candy at Derek, forcing him to either take it or watch Stiles try to impale him on the pointy part of the box.
“Where did you find this?”
“The store, where else?”
“I didn’t know they sold these in July.”
“Chocolate and love are for all seasons, Derek. Valentine’s Day is a made up excuse to sell greeting cards and novelty candy.”
Derek waved the box of novelty candy at Stiles. “You mean like this?”
“Don’t front, you know you love chocolate.”
Derek didn’t think his feelings on chocolate were the point, but he wasn’t sure what the point was anymore. He refused to think about Stiles saying “love” in any context even remotely involving him, no matter how tempting it was.
When he opened them, the chocolates were somehow still fresh. Stiles ate more than half of them while they were watching TV. Derek couldn’t help but notice Stiles left all of the caramel centers for him, even though he knew they both liked them. It was nice. It didn’t mean anything, but it was nice.
Over the course of the summer, the renovations on his house were completed and he moved in. During that time, Stiles kept giving him things, including:
4 stuffed wolves of various sizes; a stuffed grumpy cat with matching calendar (it already has the cycles of the moon!); a sturdier coffee scoop that Derek is careful to not bend; flavored coffee syrup (we all know you like a little caramel in your coffee, even if you never want to say it aloud to the barista); and a blanket for the couch that Derek only ever uses because Stiles uses it enough that it smells like them
Stiles did not actually move in, but sometimes it felt like he had. This all came to a head two weeks after Derek officially moved into the house, when Stiles showed up with a box of brand new pans.
“It’s not so much that your current pans are shitty, although they are, it’s that it’ll be easier for us to feed our pack if we have the right tools.”
Stiles promptly handed the box to Derek, who nearly dropped it. Stiles had said ‘us’ and ‘our pack’ and—Stiles was thinking in terms of the two of them taking care of the pack. Yeah, he’d started out with that stupid idea of proving he had wiles or whatever, but that was so much less than—he did he actually mean—?
“You OK there, big guy?”
Derek realized Stiles was standing in front of him, brows raised. He looked down to where he was still holding the box. In lieu of trying to find words, he grunted and put the box on the counter. He started unpacking it, listening to Stiles chatter about his apartment hunt.
“You should move in here,” Derek heard himself say.
What?
“What?” Stiles froze, mouth gaping.
Derek shrugged, uncomfortable. Had he thought about Stiles moving into the house with him? Many, many times. Had he thought about it in this sort of way. Not so much. Still, he wasn’t going to back down.
“This was always meant to be a pack house. Not everyone will live here, obviously,” and thank god for that, there weren’t enough bathrooms for Lydia, Jackson, and Erica, even before adding in everyone else, “but there’s plenty of room for you.”
Stiles was still staring, but his face was thoughtful.
“I would need an office. That’s why I was looking at places with two bedrooms.”
Derek nodded. “Sure. We can make that happen.”
Stiles grinned. “All right, sourwolf! Roomies!”
If Derek winced at the term, he made sure it was only on the inside.
That night Derek and Stiles made dinner for the pack in what was going to be their kitchen, using the new pans Stiles bought for them to cook for ‘their’ pack. Stiles decided on spaghetti bolognese—meatballs and anything else where there could be only one left is strictly for special occasions when feeding werewolves—and Derek was left in charge of a salad and garlic bread.
He didn’t realize just how much of his time he was spending watching Stiles until Lydia tucked her hand in his arm, and said, “You need to tell him.”
Derek looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Tell who what?”
“Stiles needs to know why you really want him to move in.” She raised her brows when Derek turned his head to stare at her. “Not that I think you’ve lied to him, but he needs to know you aren’t just being buddies or even just pack.”
Derek tried to keep his face still, while inwardly freaking out. “Does—?”
“No, Stiles is completely missing the heart eyes, just like always.” Lydia smirked when Derek twitched. “Angry heart eyes, but still heart eyes.”
Derek grunted, entirely incapable of finding words to answer that.
“Seriously, Derek, you have to talk to him. He’s still so focused on the idea that he needs to practice his ‘wiles’ so he can find someone that he’s missing what’s happened right in front of him, and he won’t figure it out on his own. Or at least, he won’t get the chance. Either you talk to him or one of us will, and so far I’m top choice.”
Derek looked over to see her looking at him sweetly with one perfect eyebrow slightly raised. It gave him chills.
“Fine.”
“You won’t regret it.”
Derek very much doubted that.
Derek might have been OK if it wasn’t for the damn sign. He had plans to talk to Stiles, but got so caught up in helping him setup his office and room that somehow it was the day before Stiles was planning to move in and he still hadn’t done it.
He had a plan though. It would be OK. Stiles was coming over, and he was going to sit down with him over coffee and tell him all the things he felt, all the ways his wolf saw the things Stiles had been doing all summer, and try to find out if it actually meant something to the other man or was just an accident.
Then Stiles walked in, yelling “Hey, Derek, I brought you something!”
When Derek caught up to him in the kitchen, he handed him a surprisingly heavy, flat box with a bow. Stiles shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Go ahead and open it,” he said with a grin.
Derek put the box on the table, and carefully opened it. It took a minute to realize what he was looking at. At first glance, it was a metal sign that said “Hale” in a flowing script, with curlicues and embellishments around the edges. When he looked more closely though, details in the border became more clear: a paw print nestled in a flourish, wolves eyes looking through a leaf, a lizard with a frill on its head that looked remarkably like Jackson’s hair, a jar that he thought was meant to hold mountain ash, a tiny crossbow, and other details that he knew represented everyone in the pack and the things they had done for and with each other. As he traced over the details, his eyes caught on names: Cora, Laura, Lydia, Boyd, Talia…the names of everyone in both his packs, both the one he had lost and the one he had found.
He reached out and traced a finger over his mom’s name. He had to swallow hard around the lump in his throat, fighting back tears.
“I thought you could put it over the door,” Stiles said quietly. “There’s room to add to it as the pack grows.”
“Thank you.” There was so much more Derek wanted to say, but he couldn’t seem to find the words.
He turned to Stiles, realizing he was standing closer than Derek had thought. He had a small, pleased smile, like he was just happy that he’d made Derek happy. Derek didn’t think, he just wrapped his hand around Stiles’ jaw and leaned in to kiss him.
Stiles laughed against his lips. “If I’d known that was all it took to woo you, I would have given you this earlier.”
Derek jerked back.
Stiles’ plan. That fucking plan.
He knew Stiles hadn’t gotten him that sign because of it, or at least he didn’t think he had, but he also knew he couldn’t let anything to do with it touch that moment. He did the only possible thing. He turned around and bolted out the front door.
He somehow even remembered to open the screen door first.
Stiles just stood there as the screen door slammed and the blurry sight of Derek at top speed disappeared into the trees.
“What the fuck just happened?”
The empty room didn’t answer him.
His eyes fell on the sign. He didn’t think it was the problem. He’d watched Derek look at it, seen how he struggled to keep his composure when he saw the names, known that he’d made the right choice in getting it, but he didn’t expect Derek to kiss him. He just wished he knew what he’d said to fuck it all up.
He would just ask, but the damn sourwolf had left his phone on the table, and at the speed he was moving there was no way Stiles could catch him. Even the other wolves might have had a hard time.
Stiles waited in the house for an hour, until he’d officially run out of things to do. Derek clearly wasn’t coming back anytime soon. Maybe if Stiles left for a while they could talk when he got back. He climbed in his Jeep and headed into town. Maybe Scott could shed some light on things.
“Derek kissed me, then ran away into the woods!” Deaton looked up as Stiles’ burst into the back room at the vet’s office.
“Hello, Mr. Stilinski.”
“Oh. Yeah, sorry, I was looking for Scott. Is he on a break?”
“He will be done with a patient in a minute. I’ll send him back when he is.”
Deaton gave him an inscrutable, yet somehow knowing, look, then left. Sometimes Stiles couldn’t stand that guy.
“Derek kissed me, then ran away into the woods,” be blurted out when Scott walked into the room.
“Yeah, I heard you the first time you yelled it. What did you say?”
“What did I say when?”
Stiles was expecting Scott to roll his eyes, but when he looked his friend’s face was serious instead, intent.
“What did you say when Derek kissed you?”
“I don’t know, something about how I would have given him something like that sign earlier if I knew it was the best way to woo him.” Stiles shrugged. “I don’t think that’s the important part. The important part is that Derek kissed me then ran away.”
“Of course he ran away! He kissed you because you did something meaningful, then you immediately reminded him of your stupid fucking plan that you’ve been leading him on with all summer.”
Scott was actually angry, and Stiles was confused.
“How have I been leading him on? He’s basically just laughed at everything I’ve done. There was even some outright mockery of that last stuffed wolf.”
“Goddamnit, Stiles, I’m not talking about those things. It’s all of the other things you’ve been doing—buying things for the pack, leaving your scent everywhere, the whole pack mom thing you’ve been doing. You’ve been acting like his mate. I haven’t been able to figure out why you hadn’t made things official, but I trusted that you had your reasons. Clearly that was a mistake.”
Stiles stared. Scott’s eyes were a little gold around the edges, so he obviously wasn’t joking, but it didn’t make sense.
“You’re—you’re telling me that Derek Hale, GQ Man of the Year: Werewolf Edition, is interested in me, Stiles Stilinski, because I bought some stuff for his house?”
“Stiles, Derek has been pining for you for years—since freshman year of college at least. The way you’ve been acting all summer just made it more obvious. You’ve been around wolves for nearly eight years. You’re not stupid—unbelievably oblivious, apparently—but you’re not stupid. If you think, really think about the last few months, you’ll figure it out.”
“Figure what out—Scott!”
Stiles tried to resist, but Scott literally pushed him out the door.
“Go think about what you’ve done, Stiles, then figure out a solution that doesn’t involve teasing our fucking alpha.”
“Scott, Scotty, I don’t know what—? OK, fine.”
Stiles stepped back from the door Scott had literally closed in his face, and went to the Jeep. Introspection. He could do that, given the right motivation, and finding out he might have a chance to get with Derek Hale of all people was extremely motivating. Suspect and implausible, but motivating.
Derek literally heard Stiles coming a mile away. That’s how loud he was being. There were a lot of things he would rather do than face Stiles after kissing him then running away, but listening to him fall drunkenly down a hill and hurt himself was not one of them, and boy was Stiles drunk.
He finally caught up to the younger man as he was attempting to scale the side of a small ravine. Derek had no idea why. If he’d walked thirty feet in either direction he would have been able to go up a gradual incline to the top of the utterly nondescript hill.
“Where are you going, Stiles?”
He made sure to lean in and whisper the question directly into Stiles’ ear. Not only did it give Derek a chance to smell for how drunk he was, it made Stiles flail. He even started to fall, so Derek had to grab onto his hips to keep him upright. It was the nice thing to do.
You know it’s bad when you start blatantly lying to yourself and you don’t even believe it.
“Derek! I was finding you!”
“You were stumbling in circles and yelling for me.”
“It worked though. You’re here.”
“You know there are hikers in these woods.”
“I don’t care.” Stiles punctuated the statement by pulling away and standing upright. Derek reluctantly let go. Stiles wobbled, but he managed to stay upright.
“You will when your dad finds out you’re drunkenly ranting about werewolves.”
Stiles squinted at him. “It’s not nice to kiss and run. It’s like a hit and run, but with your face.”
Derek bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.
“Don’t laugh at me. That’s not nice either.”
There was a leaf in Stiles’ hair and his disgruntled face was adorable.
“I wasn’t laughing.”
“Your eyebrows were.”
At that Derek did laugh, making Stiles snort before joining in.
Stiles wobbled again, and Derek grabbed his shoulder.
Stiles closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at Derek. “Scott said I’ve been teasing you. I think that could only be true if you want me.”
Stiles’ eyes were dark pools in the half light. Derek couldn’t read anything in them but seriousness and some curiosity.
He sighed. “You’re drunk, Stiles.”
“Not so drunk I won’t remember what we talk about.”
Derek took a deep breath, searching for something in Stiles’ eyes but he still couldn’t read him.
“After we talk either you’re going to want to go home, or I’m going to take you to bed. Neither of those things can happen while you’re drunk, so we’re going to go back to the house and I’m going to put you to bed. We can talk in the morning.”
Stiles studied him, still fuzzy, but clearly thinking. He nodded. “OK. Lead on.”
“Too slow.”
“Too—put me down!” Stiles shrieked when Derek slung him over one shoulder and turned towards the house.
He didn’t run, but he moved faster than he would have been able to with Stiles on foot.
Unfortunately, in his desire to mess with Stiles a little bit, he hadn’t counted on the younger man’s proclivity for mischief. He nearly sent them both tumbling when Stiles shoved both hands down the pockets of his jeans and squeezed his ass. Pinching Stiles on his own ass in retaliation got a delightful squeak, but Stiles kept his hands where they were.
It took a little longer to get back to the house than Derek had planned.
Once they were inside, he bypassed the room Stiles would be moving into in favor of his own. He pulled out a pair of pajama pants and threw them at Stiles, deliberately aiming for his head. Stiles squawked and fell over, but he popped back up and toed off his shoes a moment later. Derek fled the room when he reached for the button on his jeans.
Derek spent ten minutes unnecessarily wiping down the already clean kitchen counters, before going back to his room. He found Stiles star-fished face down in his boxers and a t-shirt, pajama pants scrunched up under his face like a pillow. Derek felt himself make an appalling ‘aww’ face.
He quickly snapped a picture that was for blackmail and absolutely not because it was both adorable and proof that Stiles was in his bed, before beginning the process of trying to rearrange Stiles so he was both under the covers and in a position where Derek could also sleep.
Naturally, because he lived to be a contrary little shit, Stiles waited until after Derek was done with this laborious process and sliding into bed, to roll over and throw his arm and leg over Derek’s body, cuddling up like a burr.
“Thanks for finding me, big guy.” His voice was still slurred, but it seemed more like sleepiness than whatever he’d had to drink.
“I always will,” Derek whispered back.
Stiles didn’t say anything, but Derek felt a slight squeeze on his arm before Stiles’ breathing evened out. If there was any time between that and Derek falling asleep, he wasn’t aware of it.
Derek jerked awake when he felt something move against him. He remembered it was Stiles when he got a face full of hair. He tried to relax, but Stiles was squirming around and making it really obvious that they were both hard. He instinctively tightened the arm he had around the other man’s waist, before forcing himself to relax and let him move.
Stiles slowly rolled half upright, dragging his limbs across Derek’s body and making him fight not to shudder, before toppling over on his back.
“This is your room,” he said blearily. “Why am I in your room?”
Even though they were going to talk about things between them and Derek had hopes of what might come of that, he didn’t feel like he could just come right out and say it was because he wanted his bed to smell like them.
“I didn’t want you to wake up in a strange place by yourself.”
“So instead you made sure I woke up in a strange place with you?”
Stiles sounded more amused than anything else, which was a relief.
“When you put it that way it sounds made up,” Derek answered. He rolled and propped himself up on his elbow so he could look down at Stiles. “Does it bother you?”
“It would bother me if we’d done anything besides sleep that I didn’t remember, but unfortunately, I remember everything from last night.”
“Unfortunately?”
“Drunkenly yelling for you in the woods wasn’t my finest moment, you have to admit.”
“Literally running away wasn’t mine.”
“So why did you?”
Stiles had turned his head and was watching Derek. Derek studied his face. He wasn’t sure if he was looking for something or stalling. For once, Stiles didn’t fidget or break the silence—just watched.
Derek pulled back and sat up. He drew up his knees, resting his arms on them, looking down at his hands. He flexed them a few times in an attempt to get rid of some of his tension. It didn’t really work, but it did distract him enough to start talking.
“You’ve been driving me crazy all summer. Not with the overt things you’ve been doing to prove you have moves or whatever—”
“Wiles, Derek, not moves. I have wiles.”
Stiles just grinned when Derek gave him a withering look.
“This isn’t easy for me, Stiles. Can you just let me talk?”
Stiles sobered. “Yeah, I can do that. I’m sorry.”
Derek nodded, then looked back at his hands.
“Like I said, it isn’t the things you’ve been doing on purpose. You’ve—you’ve been taking care of things. Caring for me, the pack… Things like buying pans for my kitchen so that you could—so we could cook for the pack, before we ever talked about you moving in here. Things like talking to Erica when she was worried about her new job and Isaac when his girlfriend broke up with him. I know part of that is you being a friend, but the way you’ve been doing it—”
He broke off, not sure how to say what he needed to say.
“The way I’ve been doing it?”
Stiles’ voice was neutral, but not in a bad way. Curious, but not pushy.
Derek turned his head and looked at him. “You’ve been acting like we’re partners. Like we’re…like we’re mates, so much that you’ve got my wolf believing it, and I don’t know what to think.”
“Mates?”
Stiles mostly looked confused, but there was an undertone to it that made Derek snort.
“Not what you’re thinking of based on the AO3 pages I’ve seen open in your browser, Stiles,” he said, feeling the need to cutoff that bullshit before it started.
He kept talking, overriding Stiles’ squawking about privacy. “It isn’t about fate or something mystical like that. It’s—it’s a relationship type for any werewolf, but for an alpha’s mate, it’s a role in the pack.”
“Scott said I was acting like the pack mom.”
Stiles just sounded contemplative, but Derek winced anyway.
“That’s—I wouldn’t put it that way. It doesn’t have anything to do with gender. It’s more than just the caring thing you’ve been doing. You complement me, Stiles. You’ve been acting like we’re partners. You’ve started talking about it as our pack in ways that don’t sound like you’re just talking about us just being members of the same one. I know it’s just an accident, but that doesn’t make it feel any less real.”
“Would that be so bad?”
“Would—”
Derek looked at Stiles, startled. Stiles looked unsure, like he thought Derek was unhappy with him. Like he thought Derek didn’t want him.
“Stiles, you’ve never given the slightest indication that you would be interested in anything with me except practicing before going on to find someone else.”
He couldn’t hide all of his bitterness.
Stiles bit his lip. “OK, so I know that looks bad, but in my defense, how was I supposed to know I would ever stand a chance of getting together with you?”
Derek huffed. “You have to know how hot you are, Stiles.”
Stiles’ opened and closed his mouth, face turning pink. “Not—not actually what I meant, but thank you? No, no question mark. Thank you. What I was trying to say was, I had no idea you thought of me as anything other than the annoying kid you met who just didn’t go away and basically just hung around until you saw me as a friend in spite of yourself.”
“Stiles, do you really think I would spend as much time with you as I do if I didn’t want to? I like you. You’re smart and funny and brave, and, I don’t know, being around you makes me happy.”
By the time Derek finished, Stiles was flat out staring at him, eyes wide. Derek wanted to look away, but he made himself hold his gaze. He wasn’t sure exactly what the younger man was looking for, but he was tired of hiding how he felt.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Derek shrugged. “I was scared of losing what I already had with you, and you kept talking about wooing me for practice.”
Stiles winced. “I really am sorry about that. In my defense, the last several weeks that’s been me trying to remind myself it wasn’t real.”
“We’re both idiots.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Stiles said. “So, now that we’ve established we both like each other for realsies, can we make out?”
Derek raised his eyebrow.
“For realsies?”
He leaned over and kissed Stiles without waiting for an answer.
Kissing Stiles felt even better than it had in Derek’s imagination, and he’d imagined doing it a lot. Spent a lot of time trying not to get caught staring at his pink lips, at the way he was always licking them or chewing on something.
He rolled over onto his back, pulling Stiles on top of him. He ran his hand under the other man’s shirt, spreading his fingers to cover as much of his smooth, warm skin as he could. Stiles’ hands seemed to be everywhere, his touch making Derek shiver.
When Derek pulled his head away to breathe, Stiles grinned at him, bright and happy. “I want you to fuck me,” he said. “Will you?”
Derek’s breath caught, then stuttered out. “I—yeah, yes.”
Stiles literally pumped his fist in the air, then leaned back down to kiss him.
Derek kissed him back, then pulled his head away again. He had a few ideas how the next part of the conversation might go, but no clue which would turn out to be the case. He took a deep breath, trying to remind himself that this was Stiles, and he trusted Stiles.
“There’s a…thing. An alpha thing, that—”
“Ooh, do you have a knot?”
Derek couldn’t even be mad at the interruption, because Stiles actually sounded excited.
“I am disturbed by the amount of werewolf porn you apparently read,” he said, making his voice as dry as he could.
“In my defense, it doesn’t take very much of that before knots start showing up.”
Derek just looked at Stiles until he blushed.
“Not the point,” Stiles said quickly. “Do you?”
Now it was Derek’s turn to blush. He opened his mouth, then shut it again, settling for a short nod.
“Oh man, that’s so cool. Can I see it?”
Derek wasn’t surprised by how eager Stiles sounded, but he still had to be sure. “Do you want to?”
Stiles rolled his eyes. “Duh. Of course I do. Does that mean you can control it? Is it an alpha thing or a born wolf thing? What does it feel like?”
Instead of letting Derek answer, he leaned down and kissed him.
“Changed my mind, you can tell me about it later,” he said when he pulled back. He trailed his hand down Derek’s chest before putting his hand on his dick and squeezing through his boxers. “Right now I just want to feel it.”
Derek groaned and bucked his hips, seeking more pressure. To his horror, when Stiles promptly let go, he whined. Stiles grinned, but just scrambled backwards. Derek decided he was forgiven when he pulled his shirt off, only briefly getting tangled in it, and stripped out of his boxers. He pulled Derek’s boxers off as well, before climbing back onto the bed and stretching back out over Derek.
“That’s better,” he said. Derek didn’t bother to say anything. He just wrapped his arms around Stiles, pressing their bodies together. He buried his face in the crook of Stiles’ neck, needing a moment to just take in the feel and smell of him.
Stiles threaded his fingers into Derek’s hair. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to Derek’s temple. He pulled Derek’s head back so he could trail kisses down his face and over his jaw to his neck. Derek dug his hands into Stiles’ back when he bit down on the cord of Derek’s neck, before flexing his hands until they relaxed. He let them roam, sweeping over Stiles’ flanks and hips, before settling them on the younger man’s ass.
He kneaded the firm flesh, making Stiles jerk. They both swore when it pressed their dicks together. Derek held him there, thrusting against him so they slid together, slick with the precome they were both leaking.
He relaxed his hold and slid one hand inward, brushing a finger over Stiles’ hole like a question. Stiles sucked in a sharp breath, but he pressed backwards into the touch.
“Yeah?” Derek almost didn’t recognize his voice, deep and rough.
“Yeah, c’mon,” Stiles muttered. He sat up. “You have lube?”
Derek gave him the look that question deserved, then nodded towards the nightstand. Stiles flicked him on the ear, but he leaned over and opened the drawer. He raised his eyebrows when he saw the contents. Derek refused to blush, but Stiles said, “I was hoping you’re a switch,” at which point he couldn’t help it.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said when Stiles laughed, pulling him down into a kiss.
Stiles didn’t stop laughing, so Derek wrapped his arms back around him and rolled, coming to a stop with Stiles flat on his back. Derek insinuated himself between Stiles’ legs, coming up onto his knees.
He reached for the lube, then pulled one of Stiles’ knees up until his foot was flat on the bed. Derek watched as he circled Stiles’ hole with a slick finger, before easing it into him. He kept watching as he opened up the other man. Occasionally he would flick his eyes up, but the flush on Stiles’ face and neck and the way his teeth were sunk into his bottom lip was somehow even more erotic, and the way his eyes were burning… Derek was already on edge and meeting Stiles’ eyes right then skirted the edge of too much.
“C’mon, just fuck me, I’m ready,” Stiles whined when Derek started teasing his pinkie against Stiles’ rim.
“Do you want to get knotted or just fucked?
Derek looked up. The answer to that was pretty obvious, but he still wanted to watch Stiles say it.
He was rewarded when Stiles flushed deeper.
“Knotted, definitely knotted,” he rasped.
“Then let me take care of you,” Derek said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Stiles nodded as Derek pressed in his pinkie, lip caught between his teeth again. He threw his head back and moaned when Derek spread his fingers.
Derek finished prepping Stiles as quickly as he could safely do so. One day soon he would watch Stiles fall apart just from his fingers, but not today.
He pulled his fingers free. He slicked his cock up with as few touches as possible, too on edge for more. He stretched out over Stiles, bringing their mouths together.
“How do you want me?” he asked.
Stiles gave him a questioning look.
“The knot will last about twenty minutes, and I want you to be comfortable.”
Stiles kissed him, then rolled over. Derek moved back, taking a sharp breath when Stiles came up to his knees, then pillowed his head on his arms.
Stiles turned his head and flashed him a sharp grin. “I thought you might like this position.”
“Brat.”
Derek nudged Stiles’ legs farther apart, coming to rest between them. He pinched Stiles on the thigh when he wiggled his butt, making him laugh.
“C’mon, Derek, just fuck me already.” Stiles wiggled again.
Derek smacked his ass lightly, before grabbing his hips to hold him still as he pressed in.
He didn’t let up until his cock was all the way in Stiles and his hips were pressed against the other man’s ass. They both moaned.
Derek pulled back, watching the way Stiles was stretched around him, before pushing back in, trying to find the perfect angle. He knew he had it when Stiles’ moan turned strangled.
He fucked Stiles as steadily as he could, but he’d wanted too much for too long for his control to last.
“Stiles, I—are you sure you—?”
He was talking around slightly sharper than human teeth and having to concentrate to keep his nails blunt.
Stiles just shoved back against him. “C’mon, Derek, please, please knot me,” he moaned, voice shredded past recognition.
“Fuck,” Derek grunted.
He wrapped his arms around Stiles’ torso, pulling back until he was sitting on his heels with Stiles in his lap. He pulled down as he thrust up once, twice, then let his knot expand.
He came with a roar when Stiles clenched down, coming on his knot.
He buried his face in Stiles’ neck, holding him tight as aftershocks rippled through him, both of their chests heaving.
“Ow,” Stiles said after a moment.
Derek flinched. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so rough.”
“No, no,” Stiles said, hands coming up to pat at Derek’s arms and head. “Not that, that was good, you were just rough enough. I feel amazing.”
Derek could hear that he wasn’t lying, but— “Why did you say ow then?”
“Dude, you just full on roared in my ear, and that shit is loud.”
Derek felt himself turn bright red. He hid his face in Stiles’ neck.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“I know. That’s what made it hot as fuck.”
Derek wrapped his arms tighter around Stiles, then carefully tipped to the side, spooning up against his back. He kissed the back of Stiles’ neck, nuzzling into his hair.
“I told you I would woo you with my wily ways,” Stiles said after a moment, radiating smugness.
Derek sighed. “You don’t have wiles.”
“I do too! I have lots of wiles,” Stiles protested, laughing. “Admit it, that’s how I got you.”
“You don’t have wiles, Stiles. I just love you,” Derek answered, craning his head to bite at Stiles’ ear.
“Because of my wiles, right?”
Derek sighed heavily, aware that Stiles would know it was at least mostly for show. “In spite of, Stiles. In spite of.”
“That’s fine, you don’t have to admit it,” Stiles said, squirming around in a way that did very interesting things to the knot and making Derek groan. Stiles reached back and threaded his fingers in Derek’s hair. He twisted his head around so his lips were against Derek’s ear. “Turns out I love you too.”