Work Text:
There's not a time he can remember that he didn't like his hair buzzed short. He's been seen with an unnecessary layer of plaid more often than not since he hit an age where he could pick out his own clothes.
Scott McCall has been his best friend ever since they discovered a mutual love of Mario in the second grade and Lydia Martin has been and always will be a goddess in his eyes. He's just always been Stiles.
It's never had to be a thing. Well, until right now when it does.
It started when Derek pushed him against a wall but most things do nowadays so that wasn't really very odd, until Derek kissed him of course. Stiles would be lying to himself if he said he didn't want this; but now there's a warm calloused hand reaching under the hem of his shirt and he has to stop this before it even really starts.
His mom just got it, his dad tries his best to get it, Scott is either oblivious or just doesn't care, and mostly everyone else isn't interested enough to notice.
But now there's Derek and even though he's never had to explain, really sit down and talk about it, he's taking a deep breath and looking at this dumb broody freaking werewolf who is looking at him with a familiar pinched expression of confusion and he thinks that while he's never really had to figure out who he his he might just be ready to explain it.