When he went down the stairs and into the kitchen he walked out behind Derek, gripping the back of his t-shirt, using him and his muscular back as a shield. He hoped his dad would take out his wrath on him first, possibly be too tired to yell at him afterwards and just let him be.

It was cowardly, hiding behind Derek, but Derek didn't seem to mind all that much. At least, he didn't seem any more grumpy than usual. He marched right into the kitchen like he was one of his dad's cop buddies. Stiles supposed his confidence came from the fact that he would be able to heal from whatever Stiles' dad might do to him.

His dad was reading his paper, sitting at the kitchen table with his reading glasses perched on his nose. He looked up when he heard them walk in, staring at them from under his brows. Stiles gulped and gripped harder at Derek's T-shirt, hoping that his dad hadn't seen him yet. His dad looked a bit alarmed to see Derek. With a sigh, he set down his paper. "You?"

Derek stayed silent. He supposed Derek didn't know what to say, not that he ever did say much besides snarky comments. His dad redirected his eyes to look straight at Stiles. "Sit down."

Stiles stood there for a moment. He debated whether or not he should sit next to his dad or next to Derek. Derek could protect him, but then again his dad could get even more pissed if he sat next to Derek. He decided it was best to just sit next to his dad. He pushed Derek towards the table, and Derek let him, and sat down in the chair, giving space for Stiles to sit between them. Stiles sat down, grinning awkwardly at his dad. He cleared his throat, reaching towards the centre of the table, serving himself some pancakes. "Oh, pancakes! My favourite. You're so thoughtful dad."

His dad gave him a look. "Uh huh."

Derek sat in silence, probably waiting for his dad to speak to him first, except his dad kept looking at him, not Derek. "Derek? You've been sleeping with Derek?" his dad asked him. "Derek Hale?"

Stiles wanted to make a joke about how his das was talking about Derek as if he wasn't there. Stiles smiled shyly. "Well, who did you think I was with?"

"Scott," his dad said casually. "Or maybe that Danny kid, you brought him around a few times."

"Scott?" Stiles asked, surprised. "No, not Scott," he laughed nervously. "And I don't even think Danny likes me, even in a platonic sort of way. In any way really."

"What? He's always coming around," his dad said, then looked at Derek, who was busy glaring down at his plate. "Oh, and eat something. You're creeping me out with the brooding."

Stiles snickered, elbowing Derek. "See?"

Derek threw him a glare before reaching over, serving himself a huge pile of pancakes and pouring himself some coffee his dad had set out.

The clanking of silverware was filling the kitchen as Derek continued to eat half the pancakes on the plate. Not that either Stiles or his dad minded. They continued to bicker, Stiles said Derek was ok, his dad argued he still should have told him. The conversation started to die down when his dad's attention went to Derek, who finished down his pancakes in record time, reaching out for seconds, piling an equally large amount like the first time. His dad turned in his chair to look at him. "Like them?"

Derek looked up, nodding. "They're good," he said simply.

His dad smiled, actually smiled. "I can tell." Stiles then remembered how much of a sucker his dad was whenever someone complimented his cooking. Derek nodded again, making a move to devour more pancakes. "You have quite the appetite."

Derek chewed, then nodded. "It's not often I eat home cooked meals," he said.

Oh he did not. Stiles sat there. He was using the guilt trip card. His dad turned to look at Stiles. "Why don't you invite him for dinner before?" he looked at Derek. "I can make some more if you like."

Stiles didn't know how it happened, but suddenly he was villain at the table, depriving poor helpless Derek from food. As if he was the poster boy for starving children. With his muscles it looked like he ate a whole deer for breakfast. Not that he ever imagined Derek hunting down poor helpless animals….

Stiles spent the morning watching his dad cook more pancakes for Derek than his dad ever made for him in a year, asking Derek if he wanted strawberry toppings and whipped cream. He wondered if this was the way his dad was going to get rid of the strawberries in the house….


When Derek finished eating the breakfast the sheriff made him, Stiles left the room, by the request of his dad, and listened in to their conversation by the stairs. His dad was quite protective of him, Stiles already knew, but he smiled anyways when he heard his dad threaten to kill Derek if he hurt him. He even went as far as telling him he could hide his body so no one would find him. He also got his ass chewed out for sleeping with a minor but his dad made Derek promise to keep it on a 'pretending not to know' level.

After his dad nagged at Derek for having the balls to sneak in and sleep with the sheriff's kid, Derek left, bidding goodbye to them both, and he actually walked out of the door. Stiles half expected him to jump out the window. Afterwards, Stiles had to wash all the dishes Derek and his dad left behind.

"You should have told me," his dad said from the kitchen table, looking tired from the whole ordeal.

Stiles smiled slightly. "Probably, but I didn't want to freak you out. You know, he's an ex-con, and you didn't believe me when I said I might be gay."

"Stiles, you can't blame me," his dad said, fingers drumming on his forgotten newspaper. "Have you seen the way you dress?" he asked. "I mean, look at your shirt," he said, eyes lowering to his plaid shirt, wrinkling his face in disapproval for extra measure.

"Can we drop it dad? I hear enough from Lydia."

"Fine, I believe you now, but you still could have told me."

"Sorry, I just didn't know how you would handle it."

"I solve murders for a living, finding out you're dating someone I arrested isn't the worst surprise. Plus, you've done worst."


His dad gave him a look from under his brow, then went back to reading his paper. Stiles supposed his dad reading the paper and focusing on that was better than him asking him questions that he didn't want to answer.


A week went by, and Derek still sneaked in, ignoring the sheriff's demand that he use the front door. Still, Stiles always left the window open, knowing Derek would come by, and greeting him with a smile and kiss when he showed. They spent the nights together and Derek would leave in the morning before his father could walk in on them, tangled in the bed with sheets around them.

The week following, he showed up and knocked on the door once. Stiles' dad had answered it, and made him dinner, where they talked about Stiles mostly. One of his childhood stories even got Derek to smile a little.

The third week Derek was stopping by everyday, and not just by his house, but picking him up after school or coming by to see Stiles practice. Jackson made a habit of teasing him about it, and Scott made a show of making a weird face and was definitely judging Stiles about picking Derek. He still supported him in his own way, but was just generally confused as to why Derek.

By the end of the month, Derek would stay after practice, or meet up on the field so he could play lacrosse with him. He swore he never used any of his wolf powers but Stiles still had his doubts because he was way too good at it.

Derek smirked when Stiles didn't make the goal, Derek had blocked him with crazy speed, looking effortless. Stiles lifted his helmet, panting hard at narrowing his eyes. "I swear dude, I know you're cheating. That was too fast for a human!"

Derek narrowed his eyes. "You don't think I'm that fast? I was on the lacrosse team when I was in high school you know."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Oh God, you were probably the Jackson of your day."

He couldn't say he didn't see it coming when Derek tackled him to the ground, a tiny smirk on his face when he did. Stiles grunted when he made contact with the ground, the impact making him land none too gracefully. All at once all too aware that Derek was considerably heavier than he was, and he was pinning him to the grass.

"Get off," Stiles said, even though he didn't want him to. Derek grinned, biting down on his collarbone. "Ouch! What was that for?"

Derek furrowed his eyebrows. "You know what this is for."

"Ok, fine! You're such a great athlete, that's the reason you have such a fantastic body. Your skills are truly amazing, it's a wonder you're not using your wolf powers, I was just admiring your-"

"Shut up Stiles."

"Or what? You're gonna rip my throat out?" he teased.

"Maybe," Derek said, moving to nip at the pulse on his neck. Stiles dipped his head back, groaning. When Derek released his wrists, his fingers found its way into Derek's black hair, tugging hard, knowing he couldn't hurt him. Stiles sighed, his brown eyes staring at the sky as Derek nibbled gently, not enough to mark, just enough for Stiles to feel his teeth.

"Hey, Derek," Stiles asked. "Do you think I'm attractive?"

"Why, did you never get an answer form Danny?"

Stiles froze. "Who told you?"

"Scott." He lapped at his throat. "And you did when you got drunk."

"That babbler mouth, I can't trust him with anything," he said. "Wait, I did?"

"Scott also told me you wanted to make out with him, 'just to see what it feels like.'"

"You're not angry?"

"You're not fucking him, why would I care?" Derek said, biting down harder on his neck, his teeth sinking into his skin, making him gasp. "But don't do that again."

"You are so jealous!" Stiles said, grinning at him, breaking into a fit of giggles, ignoring the bite mark, playfully shoving at Derek's shoulder.

"Shut up Stiles."

"Ok," Stiles faked seriousness for a brief moment. "Make me," he purred.

Derek's eyes took on a hungered look, and Stiles giggled when his scruffy chin scraped his skin, moaned when Derek bit down on his collarbone, this time enough to mark.


Stiles had just finished with midterms, and he had been sleeping on his side in exhaustion, trying to sleep. He blinked his eyes and Derek was there, lying by his side, making no move to touch him. He relaxed after the initial shock, smiling softly.

Sometimes they would lay in silence, and Derek usually looked at his face, Stiles looked into his eyes, then at his body, snug in tight clothing. Derek stared then turned to lie on his back and he stared at the ceiling. Stiles turned his head to look at Derek, and he knew Derek could see him looking, but Derek didn't point it out.

"I think you should meet my mom," Stiles said. "I mean formally, you know."

Derek looked at him, his eyes going a bit wide with surprise. He looked down and away, and he could see his jaw tightening, at a struggle for words.

Stiles smiled reassuringly. "She'll like you, don't worry."

Derek looked like he was going to say no, but he nodded. If Derek didn't look on the verge of bolting out the door, Stiles would have pointed out that Derek Hale looked scared. He couldn't make fun of him because, while inviting Derek to go the cemetery with him was his idea, inside he was just as scared as Derek looked.


Derek looked nervous when they headed towards her grave the next day. He took him by the hand, offering a weak smile and lead him there. Derek's hand was cool and limp in Stiles'. He seemed to be in an inner battle of whether he should just bolt out of there. He didn't bolt, he actually made it all the way to her grave in tense silence. Stiles had talked through it, anything to ease Derek's anxiety. Derek cleared his throat when they reached her. Stiles squeezed his hand a little tighter.

"Hey mom," he said, finally letting go of Derek's hand.

He could see Derek panic again, like he didn't quite know what to do with himself now that Stiles wasn't keeping him grounded there. He saw his hands curl into tight fists before he shoved them into the pockets of his leather jacket.

"This is Derek, the one I told you about?" Stiles started.

He told her that they had been together for a little more than a month. Derek had said hello in an unsure voice, but Stiles had smiled anyway because he was trying. Derek stood in the silence for the rest of the time as Stiles filled in his mom and how well he was doing in lacrosse, and that he was doing well in his classes. When they left, Derek had said goodbye, and Stiles couldn't read the expression on his face.

On the walk home, Stiles would occasionally bump shoulders with him, just so his hand could graze on Derek's. He didn't want to hold hands with him, knew Derek wouldn't want to, but the sight touches were enough. He smiled and laughed when Derek raised an eyebrow, or got a little bit embarrassed by Stiles' actions.

Stiles laughed and walked ahead of him, crunching leaves under his sneakers, feeling Derek's eyes on his back as he strolled towards his house. They walked home in silence, Stiles stayed quiet, content with their silence. Once in a while he would turn back, knowing Derek was following, grinning when Derek gave him a look like he was preparing to say something snarky but bit the comment back whenever Stiles smiled at him.

Stiles turned back around, kicking leaves out of the way, knowing the feeling inside of him wasn't just a phase. They arrived at his house before dark, and they went straight to his room. He closed the door after him, offering Derek a warm smile.

"Thanks for coming with me today."

"No big deal," Derek said, taking off his leather jacket, throwing it on Stiles' chair.

Stiles smiled at him, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around him. "Really, thank you."

Derek kissed him lightly, hands at Stiles' back. Stiles kissed back, then broke it, licking Derek's lower lip. "You were so cute, you actually looked scared a little. It's not like she would have rose from the grave and threatened you."

"Ghosts do exist though," Derek said; face sombre.

Stiles cocked his head to the side, his eyes going wider. "Really?"

Derek smirked. "Yes, and so do vampires. And big foot."

"You're fucking with me, aren't you?"

Derek grinned down at him before ripping open his shirt, buttons scattering on Stiles' bedroom floor. Stiles punched him for ruining his shirt, but when Derek lifted him off the ground, he wrapped his legs around his waist, his arms curling around his strong neck.

"You're a pain in the ass," Derek said against his skin, kissing his temple.

Stiles smiled. "So are you."


Stiles was on hands and knees, Derek thrusting hard into him. He bit his lip because he was getting pretty close, could feel it coming, could feel the sounds being held in, wanting so hard to let his voice out. He lifted himself higher on his arms, lifting and ducking his head to look at himself, leaking on his sheets.

He reached behind him, but Derek was quicker, wrapping his thick hand around his member, stroking him gently even if his hips were anything but. Stiles groaned, watching Derek's hand work him masterfully, pushing back when Derek was going to thrust him. Derek moaned in appreciation, his hips starting to jerk without real rhythm. He was getting close too, he could tell.

Stiles' body tensed for a moment before his release came. He gripped his sheets, his coming hard, leaving his body boneless from ejaculation. Derek managed to pound into him a few times before he came too, his groan that Stiles was familiar with filling his room.

The afterglow was always nice. They lay on his bed, hip to hip, staring at his ceiling, breathing and panting, chests raising and falling with their breaths. Derek was always quiet. Stiles usually took a moment to catch his breath before he started talking, about anything. Never about how he felt about Derek, just about movies he had seen with Scott, sometimes he would talk about Lydia because he loved bugging Derek about it.

"I love you."

Stiles almost bit his tongue, almost choked on air, almost had a panic attack. For some tense minutes, he laid there, completely frozen in shock at his own confession. When he got enough courage, he rolled over, watching Derek's eyes, which had gotten a little wider than normal. Derek moved on his side, turning to look at Stiles in the eyes. "Stiles, you don't love me."

That came like a slap to his face. He sat up, confusion and rejection hitting him like a splash of cold water. "What do you mean I don't love you?" he asked.

Derek's expression almost turned angry, and Stiles didn't know why. "Stiles, you're seventeen. You don't know what love is."

"I can figure it out myself, and I'm not a child," he argued, sitting up straighter, body rigid with anger. His rage was building up, and he considered punching Derek, even if he knew form experience it hurt him more than it hurt Derek. He just wanted to do something.

"Stiles, you think you're in love, but you're not."

"Fuck you Derek," he gritted out. "Don't tell me that, don't you dare treat me like I'm an idiot that can't figure out his own feelings."

"You only think you know what love is. The truth is, you don't."

"And you know what love is? "Stiles asked, looking into his eyes bitterly, biting his lower lip to try to keep his emotions at bay. "You can't even figure out your own feelings, you're too much of a coward to even show the slightest bit of real emotion, that's why I don't push you. Don't tell me I don't know what love is, because I do, I know what it is better than you do."

He hated himself for sounding vulnerable; he hated Derek for making him feel that way.

"No, you're not." Derek said, getting up, making a grab for his clothes.

Stiles sat completely still, watching him dress. "What are you doing?" he tossed the covers to the side, standing up on shaking legs. "Where are you going Derek?"

Derek finished dressing without a word. After he pulled on his jacket he looked at Stiles. "Don't wait up."


After that night, Stiles didn't see Derek for two days. He hated the bastard. He hated him so much. He hoped he got his werewolf ass run over. Or shot down by a hunter, he didn't care. He didn't care at all.

But he also missed him terribly.

He didn't talk to anyone about it.

Scott had noticed something was off and tried asking about it but Stiles smiled, said he was ok, and moved on. Because that's what he did when he lost someone.


Stiles sat on his bed. He hadn't seen Derek in four days. He had no idea where he was. He was used to be alone. At least, he told people he was fine being alone but he hated it. He hated being alone, not being able to see Derek.

During class he imagined Derek showing up and was always disappointed when je didn't. He would go home and sit alone in his quiet house. He did his homework with the TV on, just because he needed some noise in the house, couldn't stand the lack of grunts he had been used to, or the way Derek would sometimes hum a song when he thought Stiles wasn't paying attention.

He tired not to think of how alone he felt, more alone than when his mom died. When his mom was in the hospital, he saw it coming. He had hope, hope she would pull through at the last minute, but he also knew there was a big chance she wouldn't. He had felt so alone then. Miserable, watching his mom pass away.

And he felt guilt, guilt because he felt bad for his dad. His dad was great, but it wasn't the same. His dad had lost the love of his life. He felt guilty because his dad was living with so much pain over losing his wife. He loved her and had taken it worst than Stiles. It was worst because sometimes when his dad didn't think he could hear, he took a shower and Stiles could hear him sobbing.

Then those mornings he would find him sleeping in the kitchen table, hand still curled around a bottle of Jack Daniels.

But this time, with Derek, the lost was different. He didn't expect Derek to smile and say that he loved Stiles back, he just didn't expect him to leave either without so much as a goodbye or an actual line of rejection. The thing that bothered him the most was that even though he was pissed at Derek, he also felt guilty this time. He said it too soon, much too soon and he had pushed him away. Just when he found someone, even someone was unexpected as Derek, he pushed them away.

Stiles hated that people he loved were taken away from him, and it was his fault. His hands curled into tight fists, bunching his sheets because it was too much all of a sudden. He screwed his eyes shut, and for the first time since he'd been with Derek, he cried.


"Son," his dad said, looking at him as he made breakfast for the two of them. He stared at Stiles' face, and he knew he was searching for something. "What's wrong?"

Stiles shrugged, flipping a pancake. The same kind his dad made when he first met Derek. The night after they first had sex. "I'm fine."

His dad sighed. "Don't lie to me son."

"Nothing's wrong," he said. "I mean, Derek's a jerk, but I'm perfectly fine."

His dad noticed the tears running down his face. He pulled him into a hug before Stiles could protest. They hugged for a long time, embracing one another in the middle of the kitchen. They hugged, even though they smelled the pancake burning, then eventually pulled apart and made a new batch of pancakes, this time watching it carefully so it wouldn't burn.

They ate in silence, but a question was on Stiles' tongue, and he needed to ask. "Dad, how did you," he paused. "When did you know you were in love with mom?"


"It's just a question. You know, I just never asked mom. I thought I should ask you."

His dad smiled. "You just know."

Stiles sat in silence, thinking it over. Had he mistaken that feeling?

"He'll come back," his dad said simply.

They left it at that.


He sat by his mom's grave. After the conversation with his dad he went to go visit her, sitting by her tombstone, his finger making patterns on the dirt around him. He frowned, not being able to think of how to start. Stiles opened his mouth and soon he was talking endlessly, telling her mother exactly what had happened. He told her everything, from telling Derek he loved him to Derek walking out, and he wasn't even sure he was coming back. He explained he knew there was a simple solution, but he sighed. "I don't think I can do it," he said.

His finger dug deeper into the dirt until his fingernail hurt, dirt clumping under the nail as he continued to draw Derek's tattoo on the ground. "I can't call him or anything. And I don't want to, I can't do it." He bit back the bitterness in his tone. "He won't listen to me anyways, he's a stubborn jackass."

Ever since Derek left, Stiles couldn't help but think of the way he frowned and always restrained himself from laughing at his jokes. The way he grit his teeth in his sleep. He hated the way Derek refused to talk about himself. He hated the way Derek seemed to think he wasn't good enough for Stiles and pushed Stiles away.

"You and dad, you're different," he went on. "Dad wasn't a maniac when he was in his twenties. I've seen the pictures, total nerd." He went on. "And I'm sure dad didn't threaten you either, or you him. I mean, what was I thinking?"

"Nope. I'm not apologizing because he overreacted."

Stiles thought of Derek, of the way he looked when he put on Stiles shirt that were always too small on him. The way he frowned, the way he ate way too fast and too much. He loved the way he was competitive with him, and had to beat him at lacrosse. He loved the way Derek treated his dad, and he loved Derek when he watched T.V., scowling and sighing dramatically when he didn't like someone.

Their relationship wasn't anything like the relationship his parents had, but he wanted it more than he could explain to his mother.


Stiles found Derek in his room when he came back home. Derek was sitting on his bed, hands covered face as he rubbed tiredly over his eyes, sighing. He didn't move at all when Stiles stepped in, though Stiles was sure he must have heard him enter.

"Derek?" Stiles asked; blinking several times just to make sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him.

"I'm sorry."

Derek said it without looking up. Stiles shifted from one foot to another, trying to digest his words. "Are you breaking up with me or something?"

Derek's head snapped up then. The look in his eyes told Stiles that wasn't what he meant at all. "No."

Stiles' mouth was hanging open, he knew. He closed it quickly. "Oh. Yeah, well, you had me worried and freaking out if you would ever talk to me again. You leave, I don't see you for four days, and you come back and say you're sorry?" he felt his shoulders shaking, anger fuelling his words. "You think that just makes everything ok?"

Derek's eyes flickered with regret. "I am sorry.

"Why did you leave?"

Derek reached out, taking hold of Stiles' wrist, tenderly -a touch Stiles had missed, almost forgotten how gentle Derek could be - bringing him down to sit next to him on the bed. Stiles sat down begrudgingly, sighing. Derek let go of his wrist and sighed himself. "I never told you about Kate."

Stile raised an eyebrow. "No, you haven't," he paused. "Wait, Kate Argent?" Derek nodded. It took a moment for Stiles to figure out what he meant. "You were with Kate Argent?"

"It was when I was in high school. I was young, around your age," he said.

"Oh," Stiles said, knowing fully well what he meant by that.

"She already knew about my family, but I was a teenager and in love," he said, laughing bitterly. He had said in love so sarcastically it physically hurt just to hear him. "Because of me, my family died in that fire. I shouldn't have trusted her. I should have known better, but I let myself get blinded by, feelings."

Stiles sat quietly. Derek cleared his throat. There was pain in his voice when he spoke. "It was a mistake, being with her, but I was young, and," he paused. "I thought I loved her."

Stiles placed a hand on his thigh. "You're mad, that she hurt you?"

"Of course I'm mad Stiles. Maybe if, I wasn't with her, my family would still be alive today."

"Derek, it's not your fault. She hurt you, but you can't blame yourself, you didn't know better." He gripped his thigh harder. "The fire wasn't your fault, none it was, there was nothing you could have done."

"But I should have done something."

Stiles cupped his face, forcing Derek to look at him. "You were sixteen! What could you have done? Shit. Yeah, I'm pissed that because of her I can't even say love because you freak the fuck out, but when I said I love you, I meant it. Nothing changed. I'm still angry, but I love you. I really do, and not in a blinded sixteen year old kind of way."

Derek's face fell.

"And if you're worried about something bad happening, it's not going to happen. You saved me from Peter, and you protect me, and I saved your ass from drowning. We're there for each other. Hell, Jackson managed to not kill us, I think we'll be ok."


"And you're not going to hurt me like Kate did to you Derek. You won't."

Derek's eyes were flickering, intense emotion in there. Stiles held that look, looking back at him without breaking eye contact. Derek nodded slowly, his body relaxing, eyebrows moving back to the correction position over his eyes. Stiles pulled him close, Derek's face burying in his neck. Derek's heavy breathing was tickling the skin of his neck, but he held him close.

"Did you mean what you said?"

"Well, I hope you won't hurt me. Unless you're not kidding when you threaten to kill-"

"No," Derek said against his skin. "I mean about what you said before."

Stiles' breath caught in his throat. He nodded, brushing his fingers through Derek's black hair. "Yeah, I do love you."

Derek looked at him, then he moved in, kissing him gently. His hands went under Stiles' shirt. He shivered when he reached his nipples, rubbing his thumbs over the small buds. Stiles moaned into Derek's full lips.

Derek broke it and nuzzled into his neck. "I want you to fuck me."

"You do?" he asked, a little too quickly in his opinion.

Derek nodded, placing a kiss on his jaw. "Yes," he murmured. "I trust you."

And those weren't the exact words Stiles had been waiting for, but getting trust from Derek Hale was close enough. Stiles knew he would kill the mood, but he grinned madly, ignoring the way Derek was glaring and telling him to stop.


He sat back, watching himself disappear into him, rocking his hips, watching Derek's face for any sign of discomfort. Derek's fingers dug into his arms painfully, and he was sure there would be bruises in the morning, but it only encouraged Stiles to move faster. Stiles dug his nails into Derek's hips, who seemed to encourage it by arching his back, hissing under his breath.

It was fucking awesome.

Stiles licked his lips, feeling Derek shudder underneath him. Stiles wrapped his hand around Derek, pumping him until Derek threw his head back, coming on his toned stomach. The sight made Stiles come soon after. He managed to thrust in between his thighs a few more times before he emptied deep into him, stilling and falling on Derek's chest, not caring if they were a mess.

Silence took over the sounds of the room, it no longer being filled by their moans and grunts. Only their laboured breathing was heard. When their breathing settled back to normal, Derek took to staring at the ceiling again, hand resting on his chest, eyes sharp and alert. Stiles rustled on the sheets next to him, stealing glances at Derek, eyes roaming over the expanse of his body. He swallowed and turned his head to look at the ceiling as well.

"You know, Danny keeps asking about you. I think he really likes you. He got all excited when I told him that you were coming to our lacrosse game-"

"I love you."

Stiles sat up on his elbows, looking down at Derek. He looked nervous, which Stiles normally would have laughed at, but he stared at him instead, looking into his eyes. "You what?" he asked, trying to make sure he heard right.

"You heard me," Derek said, frowning. "I'm not repeating it."

Stiles felt something tugging at his chest, felt his face get warm. He leaned down, locking them in a slow and lazy kiss. He kissed Derek until he relaxed under him.

"I love you too grumpy."


When he woke, Derek had an arm around his middle, snoring in his ear. Stiles shifted in his sleep, waking Derek. He groaned in his ear, nuzzling his face into his neck, making Stiles laugh and squirm because his chin was prickly with facial hair.

"Stop, I'm ticklish."

"Shut up, you woke me up me."

Stiles scrunched his shoulders, trying to block Derek from tickling him with his beard. Derek grunted behind him when Stiles tried to wiggle his way out of his hold but Derek held onto him. He threw back his elbow, and Derek did let him go. He sat up in bed, frowning down at him. "You're awful."

Derek grabbed his wrist, yanking him back down on the mattress. "Stop moving so much."

Stiles huffed, lying still, settling by Derek's side. They both stayed quiet, feeling the sun from outside warm their naked bodies, only partially covered by Stiles' thin sheets. "What are we doing?"

"Enjoying each other's company," Derek said. "Silent company," he added.

Stiles frowned, but lay silent for as much time as he could. Derek looked like he was about to fall asleep on him. "Hey, you're not falling back to sleep on me."

"Shut up," Derek said.

Stiles crawled over him, straddling Derek's hips. "Sorry, I don't do well with silence," Stiles said with a smirk, grounding down on him.

Derek grinned, his hands running over Stiles' thighs. "That's what I love about you."

Stiles never felt happier in his life.


His dad had insisted they invite Derek over for dinner, even if Stiles complained that he was still embarrassed to bring him over, considering how much they liked to gang up on him and tease him the entire time they were together. His dad offered Derek a beer, who accepted, both drinking and talking about the times Derek had been arrested as if it were a normal thing to talk about. Stiles bit his fingernails because it was still awkward for him to see Derek of all people get along with his dad. He supposed Derek missed talking to a fatherly figure and his dad just liked talking to someone less hyper.

After dinner they washed the dishes then watched a movie on the couch together. It almost reminded Stiles of the times when his mom was alive and they would watch movies together. Him and his mom used to love watching horror movies. His dad never understood why they watched if they were so scared.

When she died used to imagine a time when someone would join them in watching, or pretend his mom was there. But he didn't have to pretend anymore. He was sitting between his dad and Derek, and his fingers reached out, touching Derek's hands. Derek's fingers curled around his, and he could feel his dad's eyes on him but didn't say anything.

He leaned back, stinking into the couch, not caring if his dad was staring. He imagined if his mom had been there, she would have told his dad not to stare and leave them be. Even if his mom wasn't there, he liked to think she would have liked Derek.