Chapter Text
“Why are you dressed like that dude from Rocky Horror?” Scott side eyes Stiles when he picks him up from outside Derek’s apartment.
Stiles clambers into Scott’s green people carrier, throwing his duffel bag in the footwell, careful not to scag his stockings.
He has the black heels that Malia leant him nestled in the crook of his arm. Bless her and her giant boat feet.
“I’m not Frank-N-Furter you dumbass, it’s a Velma Kelly costume from Chicago. It’s New Year’s Eve, nothing was open apart from the old fancy dress shop on Main Street. I needed a disguise and I improvised,” Stiles says like it’s obvious. “How do I look?”
“Very pretty,” Scott says dryly.
“Pervert. Dad thinks he’s so clever, making Derek work on his little pseudo filing task on New Year’s Eve, as some bizarre punishment for me and him getting together,” Stiles yanks on a short, black wig and he smudges some more black eyeliner under his eyes for good measure. He pouts in the little mirror before flipping the sun visor back up. His eyeliner compliments his bright red lipstick perfectly, even if he does say so himself.
“This is the first New Year’s Eve that I’ll have had a boyfriend to see midnight with, I’m not letting Dad ruin that because he’s squeamish that one of his deputies is porking his son on the regular. To the station Scotty,” Stiles demands.
“Oh please no. I should have known you wanted my help for something like this,” Scott starts the car regardless and turns in the direction of the Sheriff’s station. “I can’t go to jail, I have kids now. Also, if you didn’t refer to it as porking then maybe your dad would be more ok with it, just saying.”
“I don’t need you to come inside with me doofus, I just need you to take my dad home,” Stiles tells him.
“Why can’t he drive himself?” Scott asks.
“He’s car sharing the cruiser with Derek while the Camaro is in the shop and seeing as Dad made Derek work the graveyard shift, my old man has left himself without a car. I happen to have it on good authority that he’s delaying leaving tonight because he doesn’t want to walk back in the cold, so you’re gonna show up like the freaking Saint you are Scotty and take him home,” Stiles grins.
“And what are you going to do?” Scott asks nervously.
Stiles boops his best friend on the nose.
“The less you know the better,” Stiles says, pulling on some sheer, black, elbow high gloves.
“My New Years resolution is to get a new best friend,” Scott tells him.
“Lies,” Stiles accuses. “I saw your list on the fridge, you're cutting out bread. Which I advise against FYI, you know you get cranky when you give up carbs and Dad bods are in right now anyway.”
Stiles pokes Scott in the tummy and Scott swats him off.
“Stop here,” Stiles instructs. “Now, get my dad home. That’s all you have to do Scotty. He won’t put up much of a fight, the plumbers managed to finish the work yesterday. Lure him with promises of a hot bath.”
"I'm uncomfortable," Scott declares.
“I didn’t want to do this,” Stiles purses his lips together, “but if you don’t help me I’m gonna tell Malia about the time I caught you jerking it to that documentary on those Wolves mating on discovery.”
“I was sixteen and it was the full moon! And you said it was perfectly normal to experience strange urges!” Scott shrieks.
Stiles gives him a what can ya do kind of shrug and jabs his finger pointedly in the direction of the station.
“Now, pull into that street,” Stiles instructs.
He gets Scott to drop him around the block and shrugs on a huge black teddy coat to complete his ensemble and he slips his shoes on, leaving Scott to pull in the station car park.
Scott flips him off as he drives away, so he waves cheerily back.
He gives it five minutes, during which someone tries to pick him up, but he can’t be too annoyed; he is standing on a street corner at ten o clock in the night wearing a dress that barely covers his ass.
Plus he’s kind of flattered by it, he’s worth the risk clearly, considering they’re just a stones throw away from the Sheriff’s station.
Scott’s got his instructions and his best friend doesn’t disappoint.
Stiles checks his watch and as he walks around the corner trying not to break his neck in his heels, he spots Scott and his dad coming out of the building. He puts his head down and walks faster.
Scott side eyes him as they walk past him, Scott leading his dad to the car and Stiles is pleased when his pops doesn’t even give him a second look.
He’s nearly at the door to the station when he hears his dad’s voice call out and he freezes, hand on the door handle.
“Excuse me miss, you dropped your purse,” The Sheriff calls.
Stiles grimaces but then he realises he doesn’t have a purse, he has a duffel bag and it’s safely tucked under his coat.
He turns to look as his dad jogs the other way, chasing after a blond woman and her poodle.
He grins and slips into the station.
He sidles up to the desk where a very young rookie called Louis is working. A stroke of luck, because if Parrish was on tonight, he would recognise Stiles in a second, disguise or no disguise.
Stiles has met Louis about five times in total, so he’s not entirely sure how this is going to play out. If it all goes sideways he’s going to say he was doing recon on the station’s security protocols before he transfers. He’s got a back up plan.
“Can I help you ma’am?” Louis says politely.
Stiles tries not to laugh, because the world needs more kids like Louis, especially in law enforcement.
There is literally no way that up this close someone would mistake him for a chick, with his broad shoulders and huge hands. Women come in all shapes and sizes, but Stiles is very clearly a guy dressed as a woman. And Louis, bless his diverse and accepting heart, couldn’t care less. He just sees a person in need of assistance.
“Yes please. Deputy Hale asked me to come down here, he has some paperwork for me to sign,” Stiles purrs. “I’m on my way to a New Year’s Eve party and had a spare minute to drop by.”
“Oh. Sure. He’s just popped out to get some coffee but you can wait for him in the conference room if you like?” Louis asks earnestly. “Who shall I tell him is here for him?”
“Willow... erm, Rosenberg,” Stiles says the first thing that comes to mind.
Louis doesn’t even bat an eyelid at his alias, and doesn’t that just make him feel ancient.
As Louis leads him down the hall he realises he actually is going to have to have a serious talk with his dad about security tomorrow. In a way that he will never, ever reveal how he found out that it was so lacking and in a way that won’t totally drop Louis in it. The kid didn’t even ask him for any ID.
Louis shows him into the empty meeting room and Stiles nods his thanks.
As soon as Louis heads back to his desk, Stiles slips out and down the hallway, careful to stay in the camera blind spots and he sneaks toward Derek’s office.
He fishes in his bag for a lock pick and he has the door open in seconds, heart pounding with adrenaline. This is turning out to be kind of fun, even if he is using his FBI training for evil right now.
He slips inside and shuts the door behind him with a snick, keeping his back pressed to it. He will be just out of view of the camera, located above his head on the door frame, until he takes one more step.
He places his duffel on the floor because it blends with the carpet; the first thing he’s going to do when he starts working back in Beacon Hills is to organise a fundraiser to upgrade the station’s camera system, he knows it’s grainy as hell. Oo, maybe he can convince Derek to do a car wash drive through to raise money. A wet and shirtless Derek, that’s good. He wrinkles his nose. But a wet shirtless Sheriff, bad, very bad. Anyway, the shitty camera system is going to work in his favour tonight.
Moving as little as possible he leans up and pops a little metallic device, shaped just like a quarter on the side of the camera that makes a little whir and click when it connects, indicating it’s working.
One of the perks of being a badass FBI agent is having access to some awesome tech.
The camera will now feedback a loop of footage of the previous night until Stiles removes the device, essentially showing an empty office, on the rare chance that anyone reviews the feed. Not that they would anyway. Even if they did, they’d assume it was a malfunction with the old camera system.
He shrugs out of his coat, the thing is getting pretty warm and he flings it across a chair, tugging his gloves off straight afterwards.
Now to get to business. He flicks the desk-light on. There are three huge stacks of files on Derek’s desk which he starts to move to the floor. His dad’s a complete sadist honestly. He's going to introduce him to Veganuary for this one.
He bends down to place the last stack of files on the floor and he freezes in place, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling; he’s either getting rusty, or Derek is just that good because the only warning he gets that he's no longer alone is the unmistakable sound of the safety being clicked off a gun. He just has time to get his hands in the air before he feels the cold press of the barrel against the back of his head.
Shit. Possibly not one of his best ideas.
"On your feet," Derek growls in a voice that is so pants shittingly terrifying and Alpha-ish that Stiles is actually scared for a second. He stands, his back to Derek. “You get lost on your way to the bathroom or something Miss Rosenberg?”
The way Derek spits his alias suggests he’s not buying the cover for a second. Of course Derek has seen Buffy, he’s a closet nerd, Stiles should have known that might tip him off.
He didn’t count on Derek not actually recognising him though. Derek’s use of the gun is throwing him off a little too if he’s honest. He knows if they were anywhere other than the station right now then Derek would have his lethal claws around his throat, if he thought Stiles was a real threat.
Just as he’s getting his heart rate under control enough to announce it’s just him, he hears Derek take in a huge gulp of air.
“Stiles?!” Derek growls, and fuck he sounds confused and pissed.
“Heeeeyyy Der-bear,” Stiles turns, lowering his hands. “Oopsy.”
He rakes his eyes over Deputy Derek, his Deputy Derek and feels a spike of heat running through him.
His dad has worn that same uniform for over thirty years, hell he used to wash and iron it when he lived at home, but somehow, on Derek, it looks indecent.
Stiles’ gaze lingers on the tight beige material straining over Derek’s biceps and his pants look like they’re having to fight not to burst off his strong thighs, hulk style. Stiles licks his lips.
"What the hell are you doing Stiles?” Derek demands, clicking the safety back on his gun and putting it on top of the filing cabinet.
“I’m so sorry, I thought I had a few more minutes! I wanted to surprise you!” Stiles grimaces. His plan isn’t going awesomely.
“I’m definitely surprised.” Derek frowns.
Stiles grabs for his duffel bag, setting it on the desk. He roots around producing a bottle of champagne and a tray of chocolate dipped strawberries and he waves them in the air.
"I wanted to romance you. You know, seeing as Dad was making you work,” Stiles flushes, feeling silly now. “I even fixed the camera so we could have a nice couple of hours in private, see the new year in together.”
Derek’s face visibly softens. Stiles notices that despite his grumpy demeanour that Derek keeps staring at his stocking clad legs.
Ah. His ticket to redemption.
He perches on the edge of Derek’s desk, leaning back on his hands and crossing his legs.
Derek’s eyebrow twitches.
One point to him.
"Why are you dressed like that?” Derek asks stepping a little closer, voice a little huskier than a moment earlier.
“It’s my disguise,” Stiles shrugs, “in case someone recognised me. Hey, it worked, even you didn’t recognise me.”
“To be fair, the second I was close enough to smell you, I knew it was you,” Derek’s nostrils flare and he takes another step toward him.
Stiles lets his legs fall open and he leans back a little further on the desk.
Derek’s eyes flash red and when he speaks again, Stiles can see a hint of fang.
"So what was your grand plan, to sneak in and seduce me before you fly back to DC tomorrow?”Derek growls.
“I’ll be back in a week, for good. Also, I resent that, the romance part was first on the agenda,” Stiles says honestly, knowing Derek won’t hear a lie in his words. “Maybe I was hoping that you’d take me home and fuck me after midnight, say goodbye to me properly.”
Derek steps between his legs but doesn’t put his hands on him. He does lean in and drag his nose over Stiles’ jugular though, chest rumbling low.
Stiles shivers, he loves pushing Derek. Always has. Even before they were together, it was one of his favourite things to do.
It’s a full moon tonight, so he’s treading dangerous water here, but he’s confident in Derek’s control.
"Fuck you after midnight? That’s over two hours away. I think you’re giving me too much credit when you’ve come in here looking like that,” Derek whispers against his neck, fangs barely grazing the skin.
Stiles is not proud to say he actually whimpers.
“Really? This is doing it for you?” Stiles gasps as Derek runs two broad hands up his thighs, strong fingers lingering on the lace tops of the stockings.
“Like that wasn’t your plan,” Derek growls in his ear.
“Honestly, it wasn’t. It genuinely was just a disguise. The romancing part was what I came for, I swear,” Stiles gulps truthfully. “I didn’t think you’d be into me dressed as a chick.”
"I'm into you dressed as anything," Derek licks a stripe up his jaw.
"Oh holy shit. Ok. Ok. Well I hadn’t thought about you fucking me like this, not seriously, but now I’m really warning up to the idea,” Stiles groans. “So you really like this huh?”
Derek pulls back to look him in the eye and Stiles sees how on edge Derek really is.
“This,” Derek tugs the wig off his head and runs his hands through Stiles’ hair, fingers dragging over his scalp, “I can live without. The wig blocks your scent, I like the way you smell.”
He takes a long drag of breath at Stiles’ ear and moans like he’s getting off on just Stiles’ scent alone.
“And these,” Derek tugs the shoes off and lets them hit the floor, running his hand back up his stockings, stopping at his thighs, “I’m not especially bothered about the shoes either.”
“This can go,” Derek peels the straps off his dress down his shoulders and when the material resists, Derek tugs and it rips, leaving Stiles essentially in a tiny skirt and some stockings.
Stiles’ dick is tenting his skirt and he’s biting his bottom lip to stop from outright begging Derek to touch it. Derek being verbal in the sack was such a pleasant surprise, he hates interrupting him when he gets like this.
Derek looks down at his handiwork.
“Better. I like seeing you,” Derek growls taking a nipple between his teeth and Stiles arches.
“Ohh fuck,” Stiles whines.
“But these, these I like,” Derek runs his hands back up the stockings but this time he doesn’t stop at the lace tops.
He rucks up the material of Stiles’ skirt and sees Stiles is wearing a black lace thong (What? He was fully committed to the disguise) with Stiles’ dick poking hard out the side
Derek just stares at his precome leaking cock, mouth hanging slightly open, seemingly mesmerised.
“Huh. It all fit in there earlier. Babe? You alright?” Stiles gulps, worried he broke him. With his dick. Heh.
Derek whips his head up to look at him, fingers dancing in at the crease of Stiles’ groin, either side of his cock.
“I love you,” Derek announces firmly, a serious look on his face.
“Shit,” Stiles says and that’s all she wrote, because Derek grabs him by the thighs and yanks him forward, sealing his lips to his, careless of his lipstick.
Stiles lets out a groan as if he’s dying as Derek pushes his tongue into his mouth, demanding and heated.
Derek sits down in his office chair with Stiles still in his lap and fumbles roughly and frenzied with the pants of his uniform, shoving them down his thighs.
“Please Der, please god yeah,” Stiles plants his feet on the floor either side of Derek’s hips, straddling the chair and he shoves his ass down the second Derek’s pants are down his legs far enough, Derek’s hard, thick, exposed cock sliding up the crack of his ass.
Stiles whimpers and Derek wolfs out.
“Fuck it,” Derek snarls, shaking his head to get rid of the unwanted shift.
“No, no, no,” Stiles begs as he pulls Derek’s shirt open, a few buttons getting lost in the process. “Don’t ever hide from me Der.”
He kisses Derek slower, trying to convey that its not just the lust talking when he speaks next.
When he pulls back, Derek’s giving him his shy, soft Stiles special smile, the one that’s just for him and he melts. Derek’s his kryptonite, always has been, always will be. He wants to grow old and bicker with the guy. It’s not exactly a new revelation for him, but the moment feels like it.
“I love all of you Der, wolf you, human you, it’s all Derek to me. Of course I love you. I’ve loved you forever,” Stiles places Derek’s hand over his heart.
“Now fuck me like you love me,” Stiles demands.
Derek gives him a pleased growl and grips his ass cheeks, slowly pulling him apart.
Stiles bucks, his cock nudging Derek’s.
Stiles leans forward to lavish attention to Derek’s abs, bending forward over him and licking the tip of Derek’s beautiful, thick cock.
Derek groans, hands going into Stiles’ hair.
“Can’t. Later. Do that later,” Derek pants. “I’m on a trigger here Stiles, fuck. Need to come in you. Tell me you brought lube.”
“Wearing a plug," Stiles groans, pulling off Derek’s dick. “Put it in after we fucked this morning and you left for work.”
Derek’s eyes go wide in surprise and he manhandles Stiles until he's standing up, facing away from him as he holds him apart to look at the black (he was really committed to outfit co-ordination) piece of silicone in his ass, only a thin strip of lace from the thong barely covering it.
“Hands on the desk,” Derek’s voice is filthy low, Alpha commanding and Stiles is helpless but to oblige.
Derek doesn’t stand, instead he stays sitting, so he’s face height with the plug when Stiles bends over.
Derek tugs the thong aside and he pushes on the base of the plug experimentally and Stiles grunts, fingers digging into the wood of the desk.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” Derek tugs on base the plug.
“Fuck,” Stiles grits out. “I’ll bet it’s not half as bad as what you do to me.”
"Really," Derek slowly tugs the plug out, throwing it onto the desk and he promptly licks over Stiles’ clenching hole. “Let me show you.”
“Der, I’m gonna come,” Stiles pleads, reaching for his dick as Derek’s hot tongue breaches him, where he’s already sensitive.
Derek grabs his wrist and spits in his hand, using Stiles’ hand to slick his cock for good measure, despite Stiles tasting like lube and Derek’s come from earlier.
Derek sits back, pulling him back down onto him, so Stiles’ back is now pressed to Derek’s front.
“Come when I’m in you. Please wait for me, want to plug you back up,” Derek grips Stiles around the waist with one hand and he holds his cock in the other as Stiles sits down onto him.
Stiles holds the thong to the side, one hand gripping Derek’s thigh for balance.
Stiles doesn’t go slow, despite the fact that Derek can feel resistance, despite him still being stretched out from earlier. When Stiles is fully seated, Derek wraps both arms around him and sniffs behind his ear, ensuring he’s not in pain.
“I'm good,” Stiles groans and he rolls his hips, using Derek’s thighs to drag himself up and down Derek’s cock. “Yeah, so fucking good.”
Derek uses one hand around his waist to keep him pinned tightly to him just like he wants and the other he places on Stiles’ hip, fingers digging in and helping Stiles by dragging him up and down his dick, as he desperately thrusts up into him.
Stiles tilts his neck exposing the fading hickey Derek had left there after the first time they fucked, a week ago now. Derek places his mouth over the spot and he places his teeth against the abused skin.
Stiles cries out as Derek sucks harder, marking him fresh and Stiles can feel his balls tighten up, his orgasm announcing its impending arrival, blood thundering in his ears.
Stiles ups the ante and tilts his head back onto Derek’s shoulder, trying to hold off and get Derek to come first.
Stiles grabs Derek’s hand and links their fingers together and he grabs the thong where it’s still partially covering his cock.
“Derek, watch,” Stiles demands throatily.
Stiles pulls the thong to the side and his dick springs gloriously free and he grips it roughly, Derek’s hand still circling his own and he pumps quickly over his length, fisting the cut tip. He comes all over their joined hands and his own chest and he clenches down hard, hole gripping tight, wanting Derek to fill him up.
Derek takes in a heaving breath and Stiles, without missing a beat, runs his hand through the rest of the hot mess he’s made on his chest and he sticks his come covered fingers straight in Derek’s mouth.
Derek doesn’t disappoint, body seizing up as soon as the taste of Stiles hits his tongue. Stiles feels Derek slam into him once, twice and his dick pulses deep in his ass, Derek’s warm come painting his insides.
Derek’s arms come round him and they both sit there, chests heaving, Derek’s cock softening inside him.
“Wow.” Stiles says weakly.
“I’m not sure that wow covers it,” Derek murmurs, nuzzling into his neck.
“Love you,” Stiles grins happily, head resting on Derek’s shoulder, because he can totally say that now.
Derek strokes his legs where he can reach, fingers trailing over the lace and playing with the hair on the tops of Stiles’ thighs.
“I love you too,” Derek stands him up reaching for the plug and Stiles bends obligingly over the desk. “Even though you led me astray and desecrated my work space.”
The desk phone lets out a shrill ring and they both freeze.
Derek reaches over comically slowly and picks it up.
Stiles tries not to laugh at the picture Derek makes, pants halfway down his legs, dick hanging out and his face is covered in red lipstick and he’s just standing there holding a desk phone in one hand, butt plug in the other.
Mind you, Stiles supposes he isn’t much better, laying spread half naked over a desk, holding his come leaking butt open. He grabs a strawberry and shoves it in his mouth.
“Hello Derek Hale speaking?” Derek answers, a picture of professionalism.
Stiles covers his mouth in a snigger and Derek decides to punish him by pushing the plug back inside him and smacking him on the ass for good measure.
Stiles hears a voice on the other line and Derek pales and moves away from him.
“Oh. Yes, hello Sir. That’s really kind of you, of course, I’ll come over. Stiles?” Derek looks at him, eyes wide and panicked, “Haven’t seen him since I left today. I think he’s at home Sir. Yes, absolutely, I’ll pick him up on the way. Is everything alright, you sound a bit... Ok. See you soon.”
Derek hangs up and frantically pulls his pants up.
“That was your dad! He said he felt bad for making me work and then he asked me where you were and if you were with me! Fuck. He can’t know right? He sounded really suspicious,” Derek balks. “He wants us to come see midnight in with him and Mel.”
“Relax Der, he can’t know. My disguise was foolproof,” Stiles laughs.
He’s not worried.
His dad might be The Sheriff but he’s his son, he’s next generation Stilinski genius.
They just need to swing by Derek’s apartment, shower quickly and change and they’ll be at his dad and Mel’s before the ball drops.
He’s got this.
—————
He doesn’t got this.
He’s sitting at his dad’s kitchen table next to Derek, his dad opposite them and his dad’s gun is resting ominously between them.
His dad keeps tapping it. It’s definitely facing Derek.
Derek swallows a gulp of water nervously and Stiles squeezes his hand under the table.
“Where’s Mel gone Dad?” Stiles asks, worried.
“I sent her to Scott’s. Where were you tonight Stiles?” John narrows his eyes at them.
Oh shit.
“At home dad. You know I was. You made Derek work,” Stiles pouts.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought. Your exact words when I invited you here were, ‘If I can’t spend New Years with Derek, I’m not spending it with anyone’. So Derek, you were at work right?” John quirks an eyebrow.
“Yes Sir,” Derek’s nods.
“That’s what I also thought. So listen to this part... When I called Louis to check I’d locked the safe up earlier, he tells me you spent a considerable amount of time in your office with a person he describes as a very beautiful young lady called Willow Rosenberg this evening Derek,” John purses his lips, shaking his head at Derek like he can’t believe he’s having this conversation.
Stiles preens. Beautiful young lady huh. Derek glares at him.
Uh oh. Stiles may as well confess then, his dad’s pretty much worked it out. He opens his mouth, but John is apparently nowhere near finished.
“I didn’t want to believe it, despite what Louis said about the noises he heard and I’m sorry to do this to you Stiles, but Derek here’s having an affair. I tried to access the security footage for Derek’s office and it’s running a loop. I was going to ask Derek about it man to man when you came over, give him the benefit of the doubt, but then I see red lipstick on his collar," John scowls.
“I told you to change,” Stiles says out of the corner of his mouth and Derek shoots him a dirty look.
“Derek, Stiles doesn’t deserve this. I love you like a son kid, but I told you the other day if you hurt him, I’d shoot you in the knee caps. And by god son, you’re a fool to think I didn’t mean it. I never expected this from you.”
Derek gapes like a fish at the Sheriff, apparently lost for words then he turns to Stiles, super scowl activated and eyebrows on full murder setting.
“I hate you,” Derek growls. “This is all your fault.”
Stiles grins. Because despite the ridiculously awkward conversation he’s about to have with his pops, the clock above the sink just ticked onto midnight and Derek’s still holding his hand tightly under the table.
And that just about makes it all worthwhile.
“Nah. You love me,” Stiles grins. “Now Dad, listen, you can call off the hounds. Derek’s an innocent man, he’s totally obsessed with me, he’d never cheat on me. It all started when you forced Derek to work New Years...”
—————