Derek doesn’t notice he’s doing it at first. He makes a habit of picking up the pack’s mannerisms, after all – it’s not that unusual that he knows Stiles doesn’t like anchovies but will fight Boyd to get to a pizza with double pepperoni. What is unusual is that Derek makes sure to order double pepperoni on everything.
But whatever, right? They’re american. Pepperoni is what they do.
The Jstor subscription charged to Derek’s credit card is slightly harder to explain. When he signs up, he tells himself it’s for the pack. Research is key, after all. And okay, so Stiles ends up being the only one with the login details - that’s just because he does the lions share of the research. It has nothing at all to do with him taking on a double load of subjects at college.
And, okay, the curly fries Derek makes sure to grab before picking Stiles up for stakeouts are maybe a little damning, but it’s not his fault that Stiles talks less if his mouth is occupied and- and…
Derek swears, staring in horror at the curly fries in the passenger seat. They may as well be glittering in a small velvet box for all his heart is suddenly trying to beat out of his chest.
Holy fuck, he’s wooing Stiles.
Holy fuck, he’s wooing Stiles with curly fries.
"Oh my god," Stiles says, yanking the passenger side door open to grab at the food. "You are my hero.”
Derek watches, dumbstruck, as Stiles slouches into the seat and rips into the fries like he hasn’t seen food in a week. Crumbs fly everywhere. Stiles grunts like he’s on the discovery channel. It’s really, really disgusting.
"I think I’m in love with you."
Stiles’ head snaps around so hard, a fry actually launches from his lips to land in Derek’s lap. Derek picks it up and eats it with numb horror.
"Um," Stiles says.
Derek closes his eyes and wishes very hard for a natural disaster. Or even a supernatural one. Sudden plague of land-based black holes. He could work with that.
Derek takes a breath. “You don’t have to-“
He doesn’t get any further, because there are suddenly long-fingered hands either side of his face and a warm mouth on his and- oh.
Stiles tastes like salt and peppermint – likely the gum he has a half packet of in his hoodie pocket. The same pocket Derek uses as leverage to yank Stiles over into his lap.
The curly fries are stone cold by the time they get to them.
Stiles sort of assumes that Derek doesn’t do the whole ‘public’ thing. He’s never been much on public displays of affection with anyone, not even in a friends kind of way, so he doesn’t see why this new thing between them should change anything. Furthermore, Stiles doesn’t even know what this ‘thing’ between them is. Because Derek kissed him once when he’d saved Derek’s life and gotten hurt in the process. And ever since, Derek has this habit of sneaking into his room, or cornering him into a hallway (or anywhere really) and sneaking a few kisses here and there.
They’ve never actually talked about it. Mainly because Stiles is scared that if he brings it up, it’ll break whatever spell has its hold on Derek and they’ll never get to kiss again. And Stiles doesn’t want to risk that. Because dammit, he wants Derek to keep kissing him. A lot.
So whenever they’re around the others, Stiles tries to act normal. He still teases Derek, still snaps at him sometimes, still acts like he doesn’t want to just cross the room and capture those lips in a searing kiss. Even though he’s sure Derek notices his eyes on him, pretty much all the time. And every once and again, Derek will look back, eyes lingering just a second too long. And Stiles knows that Derek is thinking the same thing he is.
Of course Stiles has to go and fuck it up at some point, when Isaac brings up the prom and Scott suggests that Stiles ask that girl from their economics class that has a thing for him.
“She doesn’t have a thing,” Stiles says, brushing it off, and he refuses to look at Derek. Instead he busies himself in the books that are stacked on the table.
“She totally does, bro,” Scott says, nonchalantly. “You should ask her. I know you don’t want to go alone, and it’s not like you’re seeing anyone, right?”
Stiles sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, looks up to find Derek eyeing him intently. But Derek doesn’t say a word, and Scott is looking at him expectantly, so Stiles shakes his head and forces a smile. “No man, of course I’m not. Single as ever, that’s me.”
“Good,” Scott says, “So ask her, and maybe you won’t be single for long.”
“Right,” Stiles says, humoring his friend.
And then Derek gets up without saying a word and stomps off into the kitchen. And Stiles’ stomach feels like a brick.
Stiles has to give Scott and Isaac a ride home, so it’s not like he can stay behind and try to have a word with Derek, who’s clearly still in a bad mood by the time they leave.
Stiles tries to just ignore it, but it’s a nagging feeling that simply won’t go away, and when he’s still worrying about it in the evening, he finally picks up his phone and calls Derek, who… doesn’t pick up.
“Derek,” Stiles says after the beep, “Okay, I have no idea why you’re being an ass right now and ignoring me, but it really sucks, okay? It was Scott that brought the whole thing up anyway, and I even looked at you, man, and you gave me absolutely nothing. I never asked anything of you! I never wanted to mess up whatever it was that was going on. I never told anyone because I know how you’re all secretive and you’d probably rip my throat out when someone found out about… about… whatever it is we’re doing, alright? And now you’re obviously pissed and I have no idea why, and I didn’t even do anything wrong, okay? What, am I supposed to go to the prom alone? Which I am, by the way! Because I have no intention of actually asking this girl that I’ve never even spoken two words to! Because of course I’d rather go with you, but I know that’s never gonna happen, not even if hell freezes over, and… Fuck. You suck, man.”
Stiles hangs up the phone, throws it on his bed, and buries his head in his hands, because damn… He was not supposed to say all that. He turns off his phone in a panic, and tries not to think of how he’ll ever face Derek again.
He takes a shower before bed, and when he arrives back into his bedroom – hair still wet and sticking out in all directions – he nearly stumbles back into the door when he sees Derek leaning against his windowsill.
“Jesus Christ, are you trying to kill me?” Stiles asks, perplexed, and somewhat glad he put on his sleeping clothes in the bathroom.
“You turned off your phone,” Derek says, as if that’s any kind of explanation as to why he’s here in Stiles’ bedroom at eleven in the evening.
“Yeah, because I clearly should never be allowed to use a phone ever again,” Stiles sighs, looking at the object in question with a murderous stare.
“You realize you never asked me, right?” Derek says, not moving from his spot by the window.
“What?” Stiles frowns.
“To the prom,” Derek clarifies, “Or anything else, really? You’re mad at me for not accepting to go to the prom with you, but you never actually asked me.”
“Because you- !” Stiles starts, stopping himself in utter confusion.
Derek takes a few steps forward, until he’s right in Stiles’ face, staring him down. And Stiles is actually afraid that his heart might jump out of his chest.
“Ask me…” Derek whispers, his eyes fixed on Stiles.
“I…” Stiles starts, swallowing hard. And he tries to get the words out, he really does, but then he’s pressing his lips against Derek’s and he doesn’t even know how it happened.
But Derek kisses him back, slides his hands down Stiles’ back, until they’re gripping him tight around the waist and pulling him in. Stiles’ tongue pushes past the brim of Derek’s lips hungrily, searching out for Derek’s. They kiss until they stumble onto the bed together, Derek slotting his body perfectly over Stiles’, until they’re both breathless and satisfied.
When Scott brings up the girl from class the next day, Stiles simply smirks and says he’s not going to ask her out.
“Why not?” Scott frowns.
“He already has a date for prom,” Derek says as he comes to stand next to Stiles, slipping his fingers down to tangle with Stiles’. Stiles holds his breath as he looks at Scott expectantly, squeezing his hand tightly around Derek’s.
Isaac quirks an eyebrow at them, but he’s smiling. Allison and Lydia seem to be having an entire conversation simply by looking at each other. And Scott smirks as he looks down at their joined hands, and sighs, “Finally.”
THIS TURNED OUT WAY LONGER THAN EXPECTED
Stiles finds out about Derek’s secret untold skills while on a case. They just get back from a narrow escape with one of Beacon Hills’ many migratory supernatural creatures. Derek has a fresh wound on his shoulder healing rapidly but Stiles didn’t even see the thing.
Heard it, yes, loud, birdlike squawking but not all that useful for the actual research portion of the evening.
“Well, what’d it look like?” Stiles asks, and Derek shrugs.
“Need a little more to go on, Der-Bear,” Stiles grates, and Derek shoots him a look of irritation.
“It had wings, and feathers, the underside was scaly though, and like…it was like this…burnt umber color.”
Stiles looks up from the notepad he’s bent over and gives Derek a look of disbelief. “burnt umber?”
“It’s a brownish gold color—“
“I know what color it is.”
“Then why’d you ask?”
“Because how do you know what color it is?” Stiles says. Derek scowls at him and grabs the notebook from Stiles’ hands.
“So like that?” Stiles asks.
Derek looks up at him, eyebrows rising, look of almost pity in his eyes. “Yeah, Stiles, exactly like this, you’ve captured its likeness beautifully.” He deadpans. Stiles scowls and snatches the notepad back, staring down at the winged stick figure scrawled lopsidedly across the page.
derek dont you mean HUNKULESE
OH. MY. GOD. THIS DESERVES A FOREVER REBLOG.
And then one of my fav classic Sherlock artists started drawing Teen Wolf and I cried a little;;;;
I just wanted to let you know that I will be gone for a few days on a mini vacation during my spring break. Probably won’t have much in the way of internet access (I think), so the blogging will be fairly minimal, if it happens at all.
I’ll miss you all terribly, and will be back Sunday night. Stay safe and happy, Alphas.
Derek stop himself from sighing into his drink, wondering why he’d even bothered coming to the bar. He felt about as welcome and needed as a fifth wheel on a car. Scott, Allison and Isaac were talking about something on their side of the table, Danny and Ethan were on the floor, dancing close to each other and who even knew where Lydia and Aiden were. And Derek. Derek was nursing his whiskey. And Stiles was late.
So late his drink had arrived before him. Derek eyed Stiles’ glass, glanced at the door and wondered how desperate he would seem for company if he texted Stiles to ask where the hell he was. He’d even gotten his phone out, half a message typed out when Stiles burst in through the door.
Unable to stop himself, Derek sat up straight and waved slightly at Stiles. Who caught sight of him almost immediately and hurried over with a grin. “Hey guys!” Stiles greeted, giving Derek’s shoulder a warm squeeze. “Sorry I’m late. What’d I miss?”
Scott pointed at the drink next to Derek’s glass, “Here’s your delayed orgasm.”
And Derek promptly choked on his drink, coughing at the burning sensation twice as hard when Stiles cheerfully asked, “With the extra shot? Whoa, Derek! You alright there?”
"You like those huh?" Derek asked, body leaning towards Stiles, watching him take slow sips of his drink. "Orgasms."
From the other end of the table, he heard someone call out to God and for patience. Stiles missed it entirely, beaming at Derek. “Oh yeah! I love orgasms! Especially with a double shot! But Scott keeps telling me to take it easy so. Single shot orgasms. They don’t have the same kick to them but.”
Derek slid his fingers across the table, fingertips tapping against Stiles’ glass. “Mind if I try your orgasm?” He heard Isaac choke on his drink.
FUCK YOU AND THIS ADORABLE HILARITY, MEEYA
Y’all should blame Cheyanne for this one. We had a great conversation about porn today whilst at Disney and may or may not have burst out laughing while children were around, potentially scarring them for life.
Derek was lying there, breathing shallow, each inhale slowly beginning to deepen, each exhale becoming less and less jagged. He could feel his heart slamming away in his chest, still sprinting as if it was five minutes ago, when Stiles was all he could focus on as he fucked up into him. Derek’s whole world had been narrowed to where they were connected, where that intense, thick pushscrapepull of Stiles around him was threatening to drag the life right from his body. Derek had almost lost complete control of his shift then, and again when he came, his fingers tightening into Stiles’ sides enough to leave deep, red imprints over his hipbones as his orgasm was ripped out of him, every muscle in his body tightening as he emptied himself into his mate, keening loudly as Stiles followed suit.
Just like every time before, it was perfect, to say the least. At least to Derek. His senses were on fire, nose tingling with the heady thickness of his and Stiles’ mingled scents, sweet with the tinges of sweat and skin and come permeating the room. His ears were ringing, fingers tingling, as he let his head slump back down to the pillow, trying to get his breathing under control as Stiles eased off of his cock and settled his warm weight across his thighs.
That was when it happened. Derek should’ve seen it coming, all things considered. So it was his fault really.
When your best friend on tumblr becomes your best friend irl
OH MY GOD CHEYANNE I FUCKING LOVE YOU
derek asking sheriff stilinski for dating permission with stiles ｡◕ ‿ ◕｡
derek going to sheriff stilinski to ask what stiles loves the most ಥ⌣ಥ
derek asking sheriff stilinski for tips on how to handle stiles (▰˘◡˘▰)
sheriff stilinski letting stiles stay out an extra hour with derek because he trusts him (✪㉨✪)
sheriff stilinski reminding stiles to take his pillow before going to stay at derek’s for the night (≧◡≦)
I just pictured Derek having one single comeback for every argument:
"Derek, you’ve lost every battle so far"
"Yeah, but I’m the King on Stiles’ board"
"Derek, he’s kissed lots of girls and he-"
"But I’m the King on his board"
"Derek, he’s not-"
"King on his board"
"Derek, he’s trying to kill people and-"
"King. on. the. board."
"Wait. Who is she on Stiles’ board?"
"Well she’s not there…"
"Too bad for her. I’m the King on Stiles’ board.”
derek never intended on staying in beacon hills. it was just supposed to be a quick stop to find laura and then getting the hell out of dodge as fast as possible. that’s what he tries to remind himself of at least…
derek hale revealing my daily thoughts
"I’m sorry," Derek says, for the umpteenth time. Stiles shrugs and rolls over, facing the other side of the room, his back to Derek.
"so you’ve said," Stiles huffs, voice slightly muffled by the pillow beneath his head, "it kind of loses it’s oomf around the twelfth time."
"Well, then what do you want me to say?" Derek asks, he doesn’t sound irritated, just frustrated, and a little sad.
Stiles doesn’t respond for a long moment, “I don’t want you to say anything.”
Derek moves around to the other side of the bed, crouches down in front of Stiles who avoids looking at him. “Stiles, please,” Derek sighs and Stiles glances up quickly.
"I love you?" Derek offers. Stiles huffs in annoyance and shuffles to his other side.
"Fine," Derek sighs. "You’re impossible, you know that?" He says, and he hears Derek leave. Stiles pouts and turns over, stares at the empty room in silent indignation. But then Derek is walking back into the room with his ipod in his hand and scrolling through.
"No," Stiles shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Yes," Derek nods.
"No!" Stiles huffs, "I want to be mad at you. I have the RIGHT to be mad at you, you dick, this isn’t fair."
Derek shrugs, finds the song he’s looking for and slams it into the speakers on his dresser. He adjusts the volume, stands in front of the bed and waits for a moment.
Stiles claps his hands to his ears as the music starts, the loud, obnoxiously upbeat accordion blaring from the speakers. And Stiles shakes his head dramatically as Derek’s hands come up in slow dramatic fashion to pantomime two beaks on either side of his grimly determined face.
"Fuck you," Stiles tells him, as the rhythm of the song increases and Derek’s hands start moving, bending at the elbow and dropping, flapping against his sides.
Stiles tries to not to smile, he really does. Because he’s mad. REALLY mad, but even he has his limitations, and Derek Hale doing the twist with a wiggle of his hips, brows in full concentration, is his.
And Derek knows he’s won when the first crack of Stiles’ grin breaks through the mask of his slowly slipping anger.
"I hate you," Stiles tells him and Derek just nods, claps his hands and chicken dances over to the bed.
"You keep telling yourself that," Derek says, serious. He turns around, shakes his ass up close and personal to Stiles who slaps it. Derek turns and grins at him and Stiles rolls his eyes, grabs Derek by the hips and yanks him back onto the bed, to sprawl across him.
"You’re so easy," Derek tells him, running his hands through Stiles’ hair and smiling fondly at him. "Works every time.”