The anniversary of her death was getting close. Every year he bought her flowers, a big boutique of them for when he went to see her. Pink tulips were her favourite. When she had been alive the dining room table always had a centrepiece of flowers, she loved flowers so getting some for her was a must.
His dad knew about the flowers. The year before he actually left a twenty on the kitchen table for him. There wasn't a note but he knew his dad left it there for him so he could buy the tulips. His dad knew him pretty well even if Stiles tried to think convince his dad otherwise.
Usually the house got really quiet around this time. The silence was what killed Stiles the most. It must hurt his dad more even if he seldom talked about it. Usually his dad resigned to drinking a bit more than usual and talked even less. Stiles had yet to get used to it.
Things were defiantly different when she was still alive. It was hard, living without her. His panic attacks and shortness of breath were gone but he still remembered those times clearly, more clearly than he cared to.
In a few days it would be the anniversary of her death and he would visit her grave and…
And miss her terribly.
After school he drove in his Jeep out to the cemetery. Scott usually gave him space. The first year had been the hardest and Scott had tired taking him out to get his mind off it. After a few hints and very obvious nudges –since Scott really needed it sometimes – Scott learned to just leave him alone because Stiles preferred it that way.
Lying the flowers down in front of the nice tomb, her name craved in, beloved mother written underneath, he started talking to her. He never got more than a few sentences out before he started to cry.
Stiles was telling her how much he missed her, wishing so badly that she had never passed. His dad was great, the best dad in the world even, but it wasn't the same at home without her.
He wiped at the tears, sniffing and trying to get a grip. It had been a couple of years, but why did he feel so lonely? He sat down on the grass, playing with the silky flower petals and filling her on what was going on with his life since the last time he visited her.
Looking around to make sure the place was empty he whispered to her about what had happened to Scott. He explained how much of a dumbass he was because he went to a party during a full moon and Derek pretty much saved Alison form being mauled to death or something.
He started talking about Derek, about the first time he saw the forest hand how his jaw had dropped, then about how Derek sort of scared him. He decided not to tell her about the time Derek threatened to rip out his throat with his teeth. No need in worrying her in the afterlife too.
For some reason he kept talking about Derek. He supposed it had something to do with the fact that he was the only thing he could fill her in on. That, and if he kept talking about how much he missed her he would cry again.
"He doesn't talk much. He's such a sour wolf," he sighed. "But he does look good in a black t-shirt."
He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard someone clear his throat behind him. Turning around, to his horror, he saw it was none other than Derek. And he had thought he had been alone. How long had he been standing there?
"Bad time?" Derek asked.
No shit it was a bad time. He had just walked in when he had been talking about how muscular Derek was and how good he looked in a black shirt. Shit that was bad. He wondered if he heard? Maybe he was distracted, thinking about whatever it was Derek thought about. Wolf things. Squeaky chew toys.
Stile looked away. "What do you want?"
"I was hoping you knew where Scott was," he said.
Stiles shrugged, still not able to look him in the eye. "Off somewhere with Alison I guess."
Derek didn't leave like he thought he would. He felt him standing behind him. He didn't have to check; he could feel him, hear him breathing behind him. It was making him uncomfortable. That, and this was his time to be alone.
"What do you want?" he asked, somewhat bitterly.
Not all his anger was towards him. Only some of it was. He hated Derek sometimes, the creepy way he was, not to mention to the hostility. As much as he was scared of the guy, he didn't hate him all that much really. Even if he didn't like it when Scott talked about him.
He still felt him standing behind him. He turned around, really to tell him to leave him alone when he saw Derek's downcast face, his eyes staring at the tombstone. His eyes were focused on his mother's name. For some reason that pissed off Stiles, like he was the only one who could look at it that way. Before he could tell Derek to go away, his hostility be damned, Derek cut him off.
"I lost my mother too," Derek said.
His voice was calm, almost too even. Stiles didn't know if that was his lame attempt to try to get along with him, or maybe he said it out of pity, he wasn't sure. Stiles wanted to say he didn't care - not that he didn't - he just wanted to be alone.
He sighed. He knew what it felt like, so he couldn't say that. Derek had lost his family; he knew that much about him so he remained silent. They were both silent because they both knew saying they were sorry meant nothing.
Stiles lost track of time, of how long they both were quiet. When Stiles did look at Derek, he saw that he had a far off look in his eyes, just void of anything and it scared Stiles even more than when Derek threatened him. Then it occurred to Stiles that Derek didn't have a grave to visit.
His mouth opened and closed, trying to think of something to say to him. He didn't know why he all of a sudden wanted to console Derek, when it was him that needed it. All he thought about was saying something to Derek and for the first time he didn't know what to say.
Derek shut him up even before he opened his mouth. "Go home," he said, starting to walk away from him. "The moon's out," he said over his shoulder.
Stiles looked up, and sure enough, the moon was out. He sighed, looking back down to see that Derek was already gone from sight. Where the heck had he gone? Deciding he didn't care that much, he looked down at the flowers he bought, saying goodbye to his mother before he left.
The next day he decided it was best to stay away from the cemetery. He could only handle so many tears, and he wasn't ready to give himself such a heartache again. That night he decided he would prefer to sneak out and drink himself silly until he didn't feel a thing.
He tried calling Scott so he could go out drinking with him but he was no where to be found. Especially since he started dating Allison. He didn't mind; if he stole his dad's Jack Daniels and drank in the park all by himself that was fine too.
Ok, that wasn't entirely true. He was feeling so bad for himself he even called Danny to come hang out with him. Of course he said no, claiming he had better things to do. What did a high school kid have to do that was so important he would skip out on drinking?
Speaking of Danny, he never answered if he thought he was attractive to gay guys. He was curious after all. He seriously wondered if gay guys did find him attractive. He understood he never stood a chance in hell with Lydia. She was close to perfect looking; of course she didn't like him.
But why didn't Danny dig him? He was fit. Not in shape like Jackson or Scott, but he was ok. Ok he was hyperactive and he talked too much, but his face was ok, right? He didn't consider himself sexy but he didn't consider himself ugly, or unattractive beyond repair.
Maybe there was something he could fix, someone had mentioned he should grow his hair out. Maybe that was the answer. Maybe he would look better. Maybe he would have that perfect Hollywood hair that blew in the wind and stuff. That sounded pretty cool. He could even style it like Jackson did or Derek-
He screamed in a very lady like manner when he saw Derek looming over him. "Holy shit!" he yelled, sitting up despite the headache he was starting to get. "Make some noise will you?"
Derek continued to frown. It was like he had a policy against looking happy. "What are you doing out here?"
"Getting drunk," Stiles grinned, a little crookedly. "What's it look like?"
"How will you get home?" Derek asked, his scowl getting more intense. "You can't drive."
Derek didn't say anything on the matter. "You shouldn't be out by yourself. Scott told me what happened the last time you two were out drinking."
"That only happened because he doesn't listen to me," Stiles said offhandedly. He looked up, meeting Derek's gaze. "He never does. No one ever does. Even Danny, and his opinion isn't important. Danny never answers my questions either, like today I asked him if he thought I was attractive. Hey, do you think I'm good looking?"
Derek looked surprised by the question, his usually stern expression turning into shock and it was kind of cute seeing him get flustered by the question. "What?" he almost roared.
"Come on, Danny wouldn't answer me. I mean, how bad looking can I be; right? I mean; would you date me?"
Derek frowned. "You're not my type."
"How? You don't like my personality? Because I can change that. Or is it my face? Damn it I can't change that," he said sadly.
"Let's get you home Stiles," he said, bending down to grab his arm.
"No! Not until you answer my question!" he said, trying to wiggle out of Derek's hold.
It proved futile because Derek did end up letting go of his arm, only to grab the back of his collar and drag him out of the park and towards his car. Stiles tried to free himself, kicking the air but Derek was too damn strong and he was pretty drunk so he just allowed Derek to drag him inside his car, more like threw him inside his car.
"Hey, how'd you find me? Did you find me? I mean were you looking for me?" Stiles asked when Derek started the car.
"Shut up Stiles."
"Sour wolf," he frowned. "Hey! We should drink together one day. How's that sound? I'm sure it'll get you to be less grumpy."
"Do you even drink? Or are you like afraid of getting a beer belly or something?" he asked, looking at Derek, and even though he was wearing a leather jacket anybody could tell his arms were impressive. "You look fit. How often do you work out?"
"Shut up Stiles," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, possibly to stop himself from killing him.
"You know, I don't remember why I was scared of you. You're not that scary."
Derek threw him a death glare that made Stiles gulp. "Oh, now I remember."
There was silence as Derek drove the car, and not steadily for him. It wasn't like he was considerate of Stiles' drunken state or anything. Stile leaned his head back and closed his eyes - not wanting to get dizzy - and passed out.
When the sunlight poked through his curtains and touched his face, screaming at him to wake up, he realized he was in his bed. He figured Derek must have carried him up. That or some aliens took him in their spaceship for probing then transported him back to his room. The aliens seemed like a plausible idea. It sure explained his massive headache. He figured probing must give you headaches.
Sitting up in bed he decided that Derek was a more plausible reason as to why he was in his room. He was thoughtful when he wanted to be it seemed. After all, Derek did leave him in his bed. Fully dressed but still, he didn't expect him to take off his shoes or anything.
He rubbed at his temples. Shit, had he asked Derek if he found him attractive?
He didn't know why but Derek actually stopped by two days later. He came home from school - after stopping by the cemetery. There was a new bouquet of sunflowers. It was from his dad, he knew - and found him in his room, just like that time when he had been running from the law. Only this time he had no excuse for hiding in his house.
"Shit! What are you doing here?" he asked, very panicked. Maybe it was because Derek had threatened him so many times before. Something about his teeth. Holy shit was he his next meal or something?
"I wanted to see if you were ok," Derek explained calmly. Only it didn't calm Stiles down.
"Not at the moment. You almost gave me a heart attack!" He gripped at his chest for extra measure.
Derek didn't seem bothered. "I meant about your mother. You were really drunk a few days ago."
Stiles frowned, sitting down on his desk chair. "Didn't know you cared," he said, "at all really. You're usually too busy brooding or whatever." Derek looked at him. His head was titled and that angry scowl on his face seemed to intensify. Then it hit Stiles. "Do you care? I mean, really?" he asked.
He just couldn't believe that Derek would really care. Sure he saved him and Scott a few times, but Stiles had saved him as well. It wasn't because he liked the guy. It was mostly because that's just decent. You don't let people die.
Derek narrowed his eyes. "You think I'm that heartless?" If Stiles didn't know any better, he almost sounded hurt.
"I'm sorry," he sighed. He rubbed at his temples. "It's just, you haven't given me a reason to think otherwise," he looked at him. "Every time you see me you tell me to shut up or threaten to rip me apart."
Derek's eyes softened a bit, though he was still angry. "I suppose you're right."
Stiles ran a hand through his cropped hair, feeling the tiny bristles. He looked at his desk, away from Derek. "I'm sorry. I didn't mea-"
He turned around in his chair, about to give Derek a heart felt apology, except he was gone. He looked at his window, which was now open.
"What is he? The goddamn batman?" he asked the empty room.
On the weekend him and his father went to the cemetery together to pay their respects. His father was mostly quiet and Stiles hated it. He didn't do well with silences. They stood over her grave and talked about the time when Stiles got sick and his mother actually knitted him a scarf to keep warm.
They laughed about how she forced him to wear it when he went back to school even if it was during the spring. His dad actually told a funny story about their second date where he accidently spilled cola on her dress.
He hadn't laughed that hard in a long time.
He had been sitting on the roof, looking at the stars and having a stolen drink for relaxation time. Well, it was mostly to avoid studying. It was a quiet night, plenty of stars out and he was enjoying himself until Derek showed up to give him another heart check up.
"Ok, seriously, this isn't some sort of weird stalker Edward Cullen thing is it?' he asked. "Oh God, you don't watch me sleep do you?" Derek threw him a look. He wasn't sure if he was angry for asking a stupid question or upset because Stiles found out. He hoped he was angry over a stupid question.
"I don't watch you sleep Stiles," he explained. "I have better things to do with my time."
Stiles smirked. "Sure. I'm sure working out and making sure Scott doesn't kill himself takes up all your time."
Derek actually smirked at that. Whoa, he didn't think the guy knew how to smile. He decided he sort of liked that look on him. "Listen, I'm sorry about what I said before. I was just upset about my mom, you know?"
"I understand," Derek said.
He smiled at Derek, holding it even as they sat in silence, watching the starry night. He offered a beer bottle to Derek, who actually did take it. He drank it much faster than Stiles could, but Derek did look like he could drink. Derek wasn't talking and silence and Stiles never went well so he began the conversation.
"You know, sometimes my mom would come and sit out with me on the roof, just like this. We would watch the stars, waiting for my dad to come home from a late night shift," he looked over at Derek, who was listening intently, watching him.
He smiled before looking down at the drink in his hand. He smiled down at it, holding it tightly before taking another drink. The familiar burn made its way to his chest, firing his heart. It ached and he spent the rest of the night talking about his mother. Derek listened, never talking and nodding here and there. Stiles didn't expect him to. The entire time he had known him, Derek never muttered than three sentences.
Stiles laughed to himself. "You know, whenever I snuck out at night and my dad found out, my mom would stick up for me," he smiled softly. "She understood me. She didn't care that I was out at night," he sighed. "My dad doesn't get that. He's great and all, but he prefers I stay at home and do homework."
Derek grinned. If Stiles hadn't been staring so intently at his face he probably wouldn't even have noticed. It was the slightest of smirks. Stiles stared until Derek turned to face him. "My mother used to stick up for me too. My sister and I would sneak out and try to see if we could wander around the town at night as wolves and not get noticed. My dad caught us once and there was hell to pay," he stared right into Stiles' eyes. "She convinced him not to be so hard on us."
Stiles stared at him for a long time. His mouth opened and closed. He cleared his throat. "That' the most I've heard you talk," he paused, "ever."
Derek's face remained passive before he shrugged and went back to looking at the streets. A smile formed on Stiles' face and he scooted closer to him, bumping shoulders with him. Getting no response he went back to rambling about anything that popped up in his mind.
Stile was drunk soon and Derek lifted him, carrying him as if he weighed like a child and got off the roof to take him inside. Only, this time he stayed awake when Derek carried him to his room. Derek took the time to take off his shoes this time. When he was done he stood over Stiles a bit before making to leave. Stiles was able to grab his wrist before he could escape. Derek stilled in the night, turning to look at Stiles over his shoulder.
"Stay," he said softly.
Derek looked alarmed. His body tensed under Stiles' warm hand on his wrist.
"Stay," he repeated, tightening his hold on Derek, certainly not enough to hurt him – not that he could – but strong enough to keep him in place. "Please."
Derek tried tugging away but Stiles wouldn't let him. Finally, sighing heavily, he sat down beside him. He looked out Stiles' window, refusing to face Stiles, having his back to him. Stiles' fingers rubbed small circles on Derek's skin.
"Lay next to me."
Derek turned to frown at him over his shoulder. "Why?"
Stiles gave him his best puppy eyes. "Please?"
Derek eventually did lay down, facing him. Stiles rolled closer to him. He stared at his face. "I'm sorry for thinking you were a monster," he murmured. "You're actually a lot nicer than you lead on."
Derek made a sound in the back of his throat that came close to a snort.
Stiles took a deep breath and dared to reach over, touching Derek's arm, stroking the strong bicep. "Thanks for being there for me when I needed someone the most." In truth, besides his dad, he was the only one who didn't try to make him talk about it or talk about his feelings. As strange as it sounded, it was for that reason that he felt more comfortable telling Derek things.
"My mom would run her fingers through my hair when I was kid until I feel asleep. She was a saint of a woman because I don't fall asleep easy." Derek stayed silent. Stiles continued stroking his arm before finally slinging his arm over his waist, which was what the wanted to do all along so he could shift closer and nestle into his chest. Derek actually touched his face, his finger touching his cheek ever so gently.
But this was Derek. He was a werewolf. He was ruthless. He was vicious and uncaring. He was a fighter. He was the brooding type. He disappeared out of nowhere like Batman. His hand said otherwise. Derek continued caressing his cheek, like if Stiles was something special, or something that could easily break. Stiles closed his eyes, enjoying being touched by Derek. Derek! What was the world coming to?
Derek pulled him closer, his hands moving to run up his sides. He nestled his face into Stiles' temple and breathed in his scent. They were quiet, gentle touches on each other, their clothes annoyingly in the way. Even so, he could feel the heat radiating from Derek's body.
"I wish my mom was still around," he said softly. "I think she would have liked you. She always saw right through people."
Derek rubbed his arm and his lower back, not saying anything. He nestled into his temple in a very doglike way. "Yeah, she would have liked you." He felt himself blushing. "She probably would have seen past your tough guy, sour wolf exterior."
Derek brought Stiles' head closer to his chest. "Go to sleep Stiles."
Stiles nodded sleepily, hugging Derek tightly because he needed to hold onto something.
He woke to the sound of his dad banging on the door. It scared the shit out of him and at this rate either his dad or Derek were really going to give him a heart attack. "Are you up yet?" his dad asked through the door.
Stiles blinked his eyes open, trying to adjust to the light and to be woken up so rudely. He was surprised to find Derek still there. From the way he was blinking his eyes he had just been woken up as well. The knocking continued and Derek's face went from barely awake to annoyed in seconds.
"I'm up! I'm up," Stiles called over his shoulder.
The doorknob was being turned and Stiles and Derek stared at each other wide eyed. Thankfully Derek rolled off the mattress and under the bed before his dad saw anything. "I've been calling you down for breakfast. What's the matter with you?' his dad asked. He stared at Stiles for a brief moment. "Did you sleep in your clothes?"
"What? Why would you ask what's the matter with me?" he asked, trying not to act weirder than usual. He looked down. "I did actually, sleep in my clothes. I do it a lot actually. It's not that weird."
His dad gave him one of those looks. Those looks that suggested he seriously considering getting him tested. "Ok," he said slowly as if he was mentally incompetent. "Well, breakfast is ready," he said, moving to the door. "Brush your teeth first."
Stiles sighed when he closed the door. He rolled over so he could peek under the bed, finding Derek still hiding there. "Sorry about that," he said.
Derek grunted, moving so he wasn't under the bed. He adjusted his shirt and moved to the window, about to leave.
"Derek," Stiles said, catching himself to late.
Derek turned around. Stiles actually didn't know what he wanted to say. Calling his name was an accident. Now his cheeks were flushed and he knew his mouth was hanging open, much like the first time he saw Derek in the woods.
"Umm," he said. "Can I see you tonight?"
Derek's eyes softened again, only the slightest. He nodded and left.
This time Stiles watched him jump out his window and land gracefully, heading off with a quickly fastening run. At least know he knew he didn't vaporize into thin air and materialize somewhere else. Not that he ever considered that was what really happened.
Derek did show up. And he did for the next couple of days. He would sneak into his room, through his window- because apparently there was something evil about his door, or that's what Stiles thought to himself – and would crawl in bed with Stiles who wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close and clutched at his shirt as Derek nuzzled into him.
Days later he went to see his mother again. Stiles felt he needed to fill her in on what had been going on in the past few days because he felt he couldn't tell his dad. Well, he could, he just didn't want to have his dad give him 'the talk.'
Stiles told her about Derek, about how they had been sharing his bed. He told her Derek's mother died too. He looked down at his feet. He told her he missed her and wanted her to meet Derek because he was nicer than he lead on. He sighed because he sounded stupid. It almost sounded like he had feelings for Derek. The way he was talking about the guy, it was embarrassing.
He paused, feeling his mouth go dry. Realization hit him hard and he looked at the ground, the craving of his mother's name as if she would tell him something. Finally, he decided to go him and sleep. Derek was probably waiting or something. That or trying on one of his shirts because he 'hated shopping.'
Stile was running his fingers through Derek's thick black hair, tangling his fingers in those locks. Derek was staring into his eyes, those intense blue eyes looking at him from under thick lashes. Derek finally closed his eyes, turning into the pillow a tad but with his face still visible to Stiles.
They had woken up before Stiles' dad could wake them. It was better to blink his eyes open and see Derek sleeping next to him, their limbs tangled together in a mess. Had it been someone else, Stiles would have found it stifling, maybe clingy, but having Derek hold him didn't make him feel that at all.
Derek opened his eyes, looking at him. Stiles hand moved from around his shoulder to his jaw, his fingertips touching his cheek softly. Derek had been coming round to sleep at his house. Sometimes he even did his laundry there too, or ate meals there. Stiles suspected he might not like living alone in that big house in the middle of the woods as much as Stiles would have thought.
He had gotten to know more about Derek than he ever thought but he didn't mind. Part of it was because Derek was so much different than his first impression of him. Derek was more of a softie at heart, and in some ways Derek cared for him in more ways than his friends at school did. As much as their, relationship, whatever it was, was growing, it still wasn't fast enough for Stiles.
"You haven't kissed me yet," Stiles said.
"You want me to kiss you?" Derek asked, raising a thick bushy eyebrow.
"I've been letting you sleep with me for about a week now. If you don't kiss me soon I'll think you have less game than I do," Stiles teased.
Derek growled once more before rolling so he was on top of him and leaned down and kissing him deeply. Stiles' hands went around his shoulders, holding him, pressing him closer so their chests were touching. Their heartbeats stirred against one another, beating through the fabric of their t-shirts. Derek's body completely covered his, and although he was a lot heavier than Stiles, he didn't care, pulling him in deepen the kiss.
His hand moved up from his shoulders to the back of his neck, his fingers touching his soft black hair. One of Derek's hands slipped under his t-shirt, exploring the skin of his torso. When they reached to pinch a nipple Stiles groaned, gripping Derek's hair tight. If he weren't super strong with a bit of animal thrown in he was sure he would have hurt him. Derek didn't seem to notice the way he gripped his hair.
Stiles was about to tell Derek, demand of him that he take his clothes off but there was a knock on his door. "Stiles! You're going to be late for school." By now Derek was a master of rolling under the bed on time before his dad walked in. "Are you sneaking out at night? I keep finding you in your clothes, and you've been sleeping in. What's gotten into you?"
"Nothing dad. And I promise I'm not sneaking out." He was telling the truth. Although he didn't want to explain that someone was sneakingin. And quite frankly he was sick and tired of his old man cock blocking him every morning.
His dad seemed displeased. "If something's been going on, I'll find out."
"Yes, I know. The great detective you are, you probably will," he grumbled.
He wondered if his dad would ever find him and Derek. Maybe he should come out with it.
'Hey dad I'm sleeping with Derek Hale. You know the guy who was accused of killing his sister. Yeah, him. Don't worry he's nice. He's also a werewolf. Don't worry; he won't kill me. Yeah he threatened me a few times but that's only because I can't keep my mouth shut.'
Yeah, for now he would keep his mouth shut. His dad sighed once before leaving him, shutting the door after himself. When Stiles turned around and checked under the bed Derek was gone. He seriously needed to make more noise.
He had lacrosse practice that day. Jackson spent the entire time trying to kick him –maybe even kill him- and make it look like an accident. It wasn't so bad, Scott was able to push him to the floor and dislocate his shoulder. Stiles would have laughed but that would have made him look maniacal. Maybe he was spending too much time with Derek.
He walked to his jeep after practice and nearly shit his pants when he saw Derek standing there.
"There's going to be a full moon tonight. Tell Scott not to go to a party this time," he said, furrowing his brows. Stiles didn't blame him. Scott going to a party on the first moon was about the dumbest thing he had done all year - or maybe that month.
"Don't worry, he's planning on staying inside this time," he assured him.
"Good," he said. He stood there for a moment, almost considering leaving but Stiles stopped him.
"Hey, Derek." The man just stared so Stiles took it a sign for him to continue. "We didn't get to finish, what we started. This morning I mean." Christ he was bad at this. He blushed. "You know what I mean! Quit staring!"
Derek didn't listen to him because he continued to stare. "I'll stop by," he said.
Stiles' back arched off the bed, his eyes fluttering. His hands gripped at Derek's shoulders, where lines of sweat were trailing down his muscled back.
"Nnng, Derek," he moaned.
Derek gripped his hips tight, thrusting even harder into him. His voice was deep and guttural in his ear. His hands rough and calloused, roaming and exploring his skin as sharp teeth dug into the sensitive skin of his neck.
He was panting heavily so he had to clamp a hand over his mouth because he was close, so close, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to keep it down. Derek growled, moving to nestle his face in Stiles' neck. He was starting to move faster, and his poor bed and was creaking with each movement of his hips.
Stiles was coming close, and he felt his body tightening around Derek, who groaned loudly in response. Stiles screwed his eyes shut. With one particular thrust, Stiles came thickly between them, his teeth biting into Derek's shoulder to muffle any noise.
When he came down from his powerful orgasm he felt Derek move a few more times, sliding in and out of him before stilling, completely sheathed inside of him to empty into Stiles.
They were both too worn out to clean up afterwards, wrapping themselves in each other and falling into deep, dreamless sleep.
Even though they were already awake, kissing each other slowly, lazily running hands over each other's naked chest, they - and by they, Stiles - jumped when his dad knocked loudly on the door. "Stiles! Get up."
"Dad! It's Saturday!" he yelled as Derek sucked at his neck. It was miracle to managed to get out a sentence without moaning. Christ, if he kept doing that he wouldn't be able to hold back the moans. "I don't have class today!"
"I know that, but I made breakfast!" he called. "For you andyour boyfriend."
Derek stopped lapping at his neck at that. "What?" Stiles yelped.
"You two weren't exactly quiet last night, thanks for the nightmares by the way," his dad added, making Stiles burn red with embarrassment. "Now come downstairs so I can talk to theboth of you."
They didn't move until they heard him walking down the stairs. Stiles gulped, his face slowly turning back to his normal colour. He turned to face Derek, thankful he was still there. It was a miracle he didn't jump right out the window. It was something Stiles was considering. "I don't suppose you mind coming downstairs for a nice cup of coffee?"
Derek's face was still unreadable. "My dad makes good coffee," he said. "Plus I smell bacon. You look like you love bacon."
He hoped he did. He wasn't ready to face his dad alone. They never even had the talk. "Please come downstairs. No you know what. Screw it. You're coming downstairs. You don't scare me. And you can't boss me around and push me into a wall this time."
Derek crawled over him and pinned his arms down, growling down at him. Apparently he wanted to remind him that yes, he was still dangerous. Stiles gulped. "I'll key your car."
"You wouldn't dare."
"I would. And you wouldn't kill the sheriff's kid, would you?"
Derek rolled off. "Fine, I'll eat breakfast."
Stiles smiled. "Come on, I think I have an extra tooth brush. My dad will go berserk if he finds out you didn't brush your teeth."