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Stiles couldn't help but think that werewolf senses were not actually a suitable substitute for common sense and decency. "Dude, I do actually feel a need to know where we're going. It's is a surprise, just tell me that, but communicate!"
Derek turned to glare at him. "You'll know soon enough." He turned back to watch the road ahead, jaw set with his silence for a moment before he added, "And don't call me 'dude'."
"If you're not going to tell me where you're dragging me, I'm going to call you things that are a lot worse. So tell me, or stop the car and let me out." Stiles unbuckled his seatbelt, tossing it back over his shoulder with a clang against the window and a wince at the sound of that, but no worries about the sudden beeping the action caused.
"Stiles! Shut up. We'll be there in a half hour or so." Derek turned on the radio, the sounds of 70's classic rock at least helping to mute the sound of the beeping.
With a clench of his teeth, Stiles looked ahead of them, recognizing where they were and resigning himself to cuts and bruises from what he was about to do. With a quick motion, he picked up his bag, holding the straps toward his body before yanking on the parking brake and throwing the door open at the same time, jumping out of the vehicle with the bag held up to protect his face and arms as best he could while he rolled most of the length of a football field into the grass embankment just past the bridge they'd been crossing. He could hear Derek's car screech to a halt, could hear the honking of other cars as Derek got out, yelling at him to get his ass back in the car, but no way in hell was he spending half an hour in a vehicle with no idea of why, not even for Derek Hale.
It took almost two hours to get home, meaning his father was there and unhappy when he saw the bloody scraped knee of Stiles' jeans and the bruises forming on his upper arms. "Trouble at school?"
"Just refusing to be a mind reader today." Stiles shrugged his bag off, hissing at the ache of his muscles and grimacing at how dirty it was. "Geez, I'm glad I didn't bring my laptop with me today." He looked up at his dad, clearing his throat. "Hey, you know that overpass over the highway that leads to Hill Valley that that guy kept painting overly realistic penises on? There's a bald eagle nest under there now and I figured you could maybe get someone to go look at them or whatever."
Silent for a moment, the sheriff eventually groaned. "Do I even want to know what you were doing out there?"
Stiles shrugged, reaching up to rub at his shoulder. "Just walking. Hey, uh, how about we get pizza for dinner? Grilled chicken and veggies, maybe with a side of minestrone. I need to get started on homework and I don't have anything thawed anyway..." He waited for his father's sigh. "Awesome! Let me know when it's here." Stiles headed up to his room, closing the door behind him and gasping to suddenly see Derek in front of him again. "And, hey! Wow. Just like sophomore year. Hi, Derek. What's up?"
Derek glowered at him. "You jumped out of a moving vehicle. I want to know why you'd put yourself in that kind of danger."
"Because you didn't respect me enough to tell me why you shoved me into said vehicle in the first place. That's kidnapping, Derek. Totally not cool." Stiles moved past him to start pulling textbooks from his bag, frowning at the way one corner of his history book was kind of caved in.
"Seriously?" Derek grabbed Stiles' shoulder, pulling him around to look at him. "There's an omega in the area who smells like he just got kicked out from the outer Sacramento pack and I needed you to ask as a mediator."
Stiles backed away a step, glaring at Derek rather than to give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd dug his thumb into one of Stiles' fresh bruises, and began to pick through his books once more. "There. Was that so difficult? Because, see, 'I need your help with something, Stiles' or 'There's an omega I need you help learning about, so we're driving for a while and I just want to blast my classic rock on the way instead of talking' are both great ways to tell me that instead of trying to order me around. You're not an alpha, you're definitely not mine, and no way in hell am I going to continue to give you respect when you can't show any to me." He picked up his calculus book and a three-ring binder and shrugged. "Anything else?"
Derek sucked in a breath. "You could have asked this before."
Sitting down at his desk and spreading out his homework, Stiles laughed. "I asked. I told you I wanted out of the car when you didn't give me an answer. You didn't even start to pull over, so I took matters into my own hands. Next time, listen. And talk! Communication: not just a somewhat useless college major anymore."
Taking a seat on the bed, Derek shoved his jacket off, letting it fall behind him. "I'm sorry, alright? I'm not... You're hard to talk to."
"Me? Why? Because I don't shut up?" Stiles flipped the pages of his book with a bit more fervor than he intended, frowning at the sound of a page starting to rip.
"Just..." Derek let out a huff of laughter. "Because you know just the right thing to say, and I never do."
Stiles echoed the laugh. "Me? No. I'm always pissing people off. No one listens to me."
"But, they should. I should, and I know it. Because, yeah, you piss people off, but that's because the truth hurts. You're a horrible liar, Stiles, but you're amazing at telling the truth. And truly... that's what makes me scared to listen." Derek clasped his hands together, leaning forward against his knees, and wasn't quite able to meet Stiles' gaze.
Taking a moment to copy down the first problem for his math homework, Stiles sighed. "Look, other than the piss poor communication skills? You're a good guy. I wasn't lying about having respect for you because you're so self-sacrificing that it hurts to look at you, and doubly so when you're not wearing a shirt. I... I know that no one listens to me even though I also know I usually end up being right, but I don't just talk. I listen, too. And it's not like I go spilling other people's secrets. I mean, I've proven I can't exactly stand up to too much torture, but that's what it takes to drag secrets out of me, so that's something."
"At least you don't have to keep any of mine," Derek said softly, knuckles white from how tightly his hands gripped each other.
Stiles set down his pencil. "Yet, I totally have. I've kind of... Dude, you know I research everything. So, when the tall, dark, broody cupcake comes to town with the glorious manpain frosting? I wanna know the ingredients. Or something. Oh my god, I'm hungry." He groaned. "Anyway, I've heard some things, and figured out some things, and seen some other things... But just because I'm a horrible liar doesn't mean I'm not into that whole lie by omission thing. No one needs to know about you and Kate Argent unless you feel like telling them."
Derek's eyes flew open as he looked up at Stiles. "You-" He sucked in a breath and the tension in his hands eased. "Stiles..." He let the rest of the breath hiss out between his teeth. "I always feel like I disappoint you, but at least now I know why."
"That is-" Stiles groaned. "I'm not disappointed in you. I'm disappointed in your life and how it keeps throwing freaking harpoons at you that you don't deserve. I wasn't lying when I said you were a good guy. I respect you. I appreciate you! You're not my alpha. I didn't lie about that. But, we're... something, right? At least friends."
His shoulders dropping from their previous tension, Derek nodded. "Yeah. I guess we can't save each other's lives this often without going into some kind of brotherhood."
"Oh, uh, yeah. Brotherhood. Because, of course. Brothers. Totally where I was going with that, and-" Stiles pressed his hand to his face, sliding it down so he could look at Derek. "Okay, y'know what? Confession time. I have never thought of you as anything even remotely close to brothers, but more like partners, and in a way that I would never, ever think of Scott."
Raising one eyebrow, Derek let just a hint of smile show. "Is that your way of flirting?"
Stiles laughed. "Is yours shoving people against walls and menacingly holding basketballs? Because, if not, I totally misread you and I apologize."
"Communication problems again, huh?" Derek rubbed his thumb against his temple. "Maybe I really should work on that."
Picking up his pencil again and letting the end drum against the table, Stiles nodded. "You should. By, like, talking to me. And then listening. Because then if you asked me to meet you for curly fries and a root beer float after school tomorrow, you could hear the not-lying I'm doing when I say yes."
"Stiles, would you like to meet me after school tomorrow for curly fries and a root beer float?" Derek stood up and moved closer to Stiles, putting one hand on Stiles' forearm.
Looking up at Derek with a grin, Stiles batted his eyelashes. "Only if you're buying. You're rich and I need to buy new pants."
"New pants?" Derek's brow furrowed in confusion.
Dragging his legs out from under the desk, Stiles showed off his knee. "There's a reason you're not supposed to jump out of moving vehicles, you know. But, hey, I've done that now, so if I ever get kidnapped by anyone else, then maybe I'm ahead of the game or something."
"Stiles, I didn't kidnap you." Derek frowned. "And you should probably clean that up."
With a smirk, Stiles reached out and let his fingers trace against the edge of Derek's hand. "You kind of did kidnap me, but I forgive you this time. And, are you actually concerned or just trying to get me naked before our first date?"
"Both," Derek deadpanned. "I can hear someone walking up to the front door, so that's probably your pizza. I'll... I'll see you tomorrow?" He let his fingers twine around Stiles'.
Stiles snorted as the doorbell rang, squeezing Derek's hand. "Or, you could stay for dinner. If this is a thing, I'm not lying to my dad about it, so we might as well go ahead and at least tell him so he won't have to accuse me of lying anymore."
"I..." Derek sniffed the air suddenly. "Since when do you eat hot wings?"
Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Stiles stood up and opened the door, dragging Derek with him. "Wow, Dad. How did you know that Derek was going to sneak in my window in order to ask me out on a date so that you could go ahead and order hot wings for him?"
"Aw, hell." The sheriff took the boxes to the kitchen and dropped them on the table. "You're really gonna date this loser?"
"Dad!" Stiles frowned. "Derek's awesome and this has been a long time coming, really."
Quirking an eyebrow and starting to crack the pizza box open, the sheriff said softly, "Well, son, maybe I was talking to Derek."
Slapping a hand down on top of the pizza box, Stiles glared at his father. "Enjoy your soup for dinner."
Twenty minutes later found Derek sneaking the sheriff the last hot wing while Stiles went to the bathroom after finishing his own meal to finally clean up his scrapes. "So, how do you feel about me dating Stiles?"
Shoving another bite of chicken in his mouth, the sheriff groaned, holding up one sauce-covered finger as he chewed. After swallowing, he smiled at Derek, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I think he was right when he said it was a long time coming. It's not like he's underage anymore."
"And no talk about how, if I hurt him, you know just where to bury me?" Derek let himself relax, reaching for one of Stiles' pieces of discarded crust.
Stiles came back into the room then, frowning upon catching his father red, or rather orange, handed. "He won't need to. If anyone's giving you a shovel speech, it's me. And, honestly, I think I had enough of shovels about a week after meeting you. So, treat me right, treat yourself right, and don't make me dig anything more complicated than a hole to plant carrot seeds."
"That's..." Derek shook his head, laughing. "Is that your way of telling me not to sneak your father hot wings anymore?"
Patting Derek's shoulder, Stiles leaned against him. "Dude, there's a whole list of banned things. I'll print a copy for you. If it was submerged in oil at any point? It's a no-go. Now, c'mon. I still have homework and Dad's cleaning up because the exercise is good for him after breaking his diet. We'll call this the first date, so you can at least kiss me at the end of it."
"Stiles," the sheriff said after pulling the wing bone from his mouth, "give an old man a break and just take... all of that to your room."
"Gladly, Dad." Stiles grabbed Derek's hand and began to pull Derek back upstairs. "I'm taking you to my room and we're making out for a bit before I jump back into derivations. See how easy that is? Communication."
Derek snorted. "And yet you're the one wanting to use my mouth for other things."
Stiles quirked a corner of his mouth into a grin and winked. "Baby steps, Derek. Gotta start with the motions."
"I'm going to start a vegetable garden and make you help plant it." Derek grumbled, but let himself be pulled into Stiles' room.
"For you, I would. But, then I'd demand part of the harvest to make my dad eat. Do you know how annoying the farmer's market is? It's all... early." Stiles shut the door behind them. "Anyway, first date over. Let the kissing commence."
Derek took a deep breath and carefully walked forward until Stiles was pressed against the door, crowding against him until their lips were only a few centimeters apart. "I don't think we can really call the date over until I'm leaving, can we?"
Stiles shook his head, his breath warm against Derek's lips. "Then, new plan. We switched locations, so it's totally the second date, and since I didn't kiss on the first one then I don't have to be a prude here."
"I'm not putting out until the third date, Stiles." He let his lips brush against Stiles' with his words. "Think you can wait until tomorrow?"
Finally sealing his lips against Derek's, Stiles kissed him deeply, sweetly, then pulled away so his head banged against the door with enough force to make him wince. "Promise me a bed will be involved because, as much as the door and wall thing is hot? I'm still bruised and soft is a good thing."
Letting his forehead rest against Stiles', Derek grinned. "We'll talk about it tomorrow."
Stiles let his hands grip onto Derek's shirt. "Damn right we will." He closed the gap between them again, intent on using his lips, teeth, and tongue to communicate what words didn't seem capable of conveying. Fortunately, in that, Derek was a damned fine communicator.