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“Ouch! Shit !”
The rain was cold, but the wind made his very bones feel like ice, cutting through him in ways that weren’t normal or natural.
The storm had been caused when a particularly cranky coven of warlocks had decided that Beacon Hills would be a nifty place to set up shop and flung enough magical energy around that it had played merry hell with the weather patterns, and what should have been a normal late-summer storm was instead hovering on the edge of sleet.
In August.
When the ping pong-sized piece of hail whacked him on the shoulder, Stiles swore and sprinted for the small overhang of rock. He didn’t care if Derek was already there, eyebrows furrowed together to telegraph his anger and frustration. His own energy reserve was low and his shoulder stung like a motherfucker , and he was going to use the goddamn shelter despite Mr. Angry Eyebrows.
Derek rolled his eyes and moved over about two millimeters, enough that Stiles could squeeze in.
It took some work, but both of them managed to get everything under the overhang. More importantly, they managed to get everything under the overhang and still keep a few inches of space between their bodies.
They looked out on the once-picturesque campground, now fairly drowning in freezing rain.
“I can’t believe I’m stuck here.” The ‘with you’ was implied, but Stiles had no problem picking up Derek’s not- so subtle clues.
“Yeah, well, it’s no picnic from my end either.” Stiles rubbed his shoulder.
Derek sighed and shifted over slightly. “Let me see.”
Stiles shivered, holding out for a full minute before he sighed and turned so Derek could see his shoulder. The space was limited, so Stiles ended up facing the rock’s face, back to the rain. Derek stood between him and the rain. He leaned his head against the cool surface and shivered again. He really was cold.
Derek seemed to take an age before Stiles felt fingers on the collar of his T-shirt, pulling it slightly so Derek could see his injury. Derek made a ‘hmm’ sound, and Stiles winced, despite him lightly brushing the tips of his finger over what Stiles could tell would already be a nasty bruise.
Derek did his magic wolfy fingers thing, and Stiles sighed, feeling the pain immediately drain away. To his shock, he felt something even softer brush against the bruise, and he froze, trying to tell himself that Derek really hadn’t just kissed him. Nope. He was hallucinating things. Had to be. He shivered again.
“You’re really cold?”
Stiles swallowed. Derek didn’t sound angry anymore, and that was a little weird. Derek was practically always angry. He nodded. “Yeah. That took a lot out of me, energy-wise.”
“At the risk of sounding like a really bad porn, will you let me warm you up?”
Stiles nodded again. His teeth were chattering, which was perhaps fortunate because it kept him from saying something really stupid, like ‘yeah baby, warm me up good’.
There wasn’t enough space for Derek to really take a full step forward, but he shifted so the line of his body was flush against Stiles’s soaked and shivering back.
It was like standing too close to a roaring fire. Derek’s body heat was significantly higher, and Stiles couldn’t help the way he sucked in a shocked breath at the sensation. The feel of their wet clothes was clammy, but after a few heartbeats, Stiles was pretty sure he could see steam from Derek’s body heat. Stiles shifted his weight back, and curled his shoulders, instinctively trying to make his taller body fit against Derek’s.
“Ohhh,” Stiles sighed. Trying not to moan too obviously. “That’s. . . yeah, big guy. That’s much b-b-better.”
The rain fell in a steady roar, punctuated by thunder growling loudly enough that Stiles jumped a little. He sucked in a startled breath, flinching.
“You’re still cold.” Derek leaned back for a second, and Stiles saw Derek’s shirt hit the ground next to them with a wet splat. He wrapped his arms around Stiles’s stomach, rubbing his hands over the wet clothes, pulling Stiles back, erasing that last half-inch of space between them.
“Yeah, well, I’ll warm up soon enough. Th-thank you.”
Derek was silent, as though hugging Stiles took all his concentration.
For his part, Stiles was trying his very best to ignore the fact that a half-naked Derek Hale was snuggled up behind him. He was pretty sure he’d dreamed about this in all the years they’d known each other, but by now he was an expert at ignoring his feelings. Derek wasn’t into him. Full stop. Stiles hadn’t exactly been subtle in letting Derek know that he was interested in maybe possibly definitely touching Derek in all the filthy ways he’d spent most of his teenage years imagining. Derek had ignored it, and that was that. Stiles did his best to not be too obvious, and they both moved on with their lives.
Given their proximity and the situation, Stiles figured someone had a helluva sense of irony.
Stiles was jolted out of his thoughts by the feel of Derek’s lips on his shoulder again, brushing over the tender spot. Usually, when Derek took pain, it left Stiles feeling overwhelmed and sick. Stiles did his best not to react, although why he bothered was a mystery since what Derek couldn’t feel under his arms, he could certainly hear Stiles’ heartbeat increase.
Derek pushed his chin against the spot, and the sharp shock of pain caused Stiles to gasp. Derek immediately kissed the spot again, and Stiles flexed his fingers against the rock’s surface.
“Uh.. Derek?” Stiles told himself that his voice didn’t squeak.
“Hmm?” Derek’s voice was so low that some people (not Stiles because Stiles knew that there was no chance that Derek was into him, despite what may or not be happening with the bruise left by the hail because obviously, he had to be hallucinating. . . but some people) might choose to call the sound a growl. Derek shifted his hands so that one slid up onto Stiles’s sternum. He spread his fingers so that his hand rested on Stiles’s chest. The other hand moved slowly up Stiles’s side, up over the opposite shoulder, and over the skin on his arm, warming the cold skin there.
“What. Uh. What?” Stiles couldn’t manage anymore, and yeah his voice was definitely hitting the squeaky range.
“I told you. I’m warming you up.” Derek shifted slightly, and it was like Stiles had been hit upside the head with the obvious stick. Stiles could feel that Derek was half-hard as he pressed his dick against Stiles’s ass. Derek’s hand slid down Stiles’s soaked chest and his fingers slid just a tiny bit under the waistband of his jeans.
Stiles stared at the hand like he was trying to solve some complicated problem, before nodding. He felt the scrape of Derek’s teeth on the skin around the bruise and Stiles whined, head tilting back so that it rested on Derek’s shoulder. Derek didn’t do anything, except wait. . . drawing out the moment for a heartbeat, for two. This was impossible because Derek was gonna stop any second. This had to be a joke, right? Two seconds ago, Derek didn’t want to even be near him, let alone kiss his injury like a worried boyfriend.
Stiles’s own cock started to harden, as though taking matters to its own hands, moving closer to Derek’s fingers.
Derek licked at the spot, then exhaled, his hot breath warming the little stretch of skin. “Stiles. Say it.”
“Yes.”
When Derek moved, he moved fast. His hand quickly unsnapped and unzipped Stiles’s jeans, his fingers reaching into his underwear and finding Stiles’s cock as though he’d done it a hundred times before. At the same time, he tightened the suction of his mouth, pressing into the bruise so that Stiles shivered and shook for other reasons.
“Oh, fuck, fuck , Derek.”
“Mmhmm.” He kissed up over the shoulder, sucking kisses into Stiles’s collarbone, and up the column of his neck. The hand on his bicep slid down his forearm and over his wrist, pressing his hand over Stiles’s, pressing their hands together on the rock. His fingers wrapped around the shaft of Stiles’s cock, and Stiles felt dizzy with how quickly he grew fully hard.
Feeling Derek all around him was a new feeling, but one that Stiles didn’t want to get rid of any time soon.
Derek shifted and Stiles realized he was rubbing his dick against Stiles’s ass, searching for whatever friction he could find. Stiles arched his back, and Derek grunted, pressing harder.
Lighting flashed, but Stiles was beyond caring. He twisted his neck, trying to get to Derek’s mouth. The angle was wrong, and all he could do was swipe his lips messily against Derek’s lower cheek, the scrape of his stubble stinging against Stiles’s lips.
Derek’s hand tightened, and he started to stroke him properly. His hand wasn’t exactly slippery, but it was wet enough that Stiles knew he could get off. Stiles heard himself whining as he gave up on kissing Derek, and turned so that he stared blindly at the rock in front of him, using his forearms and palms of his hands to brace himself, rubbing against Derek as best he could. Derek’s fingers tightened on his and he made a dark, needy sound behind him.
Derek’s mouth worked at his other shoulder, and Stiles knew that Derek had marked him, and that thought made him shiver again, biting his lip on the shout he could barely keep behind his lips.
He could come like this. He was gonna come like this.
When Derek pulled away, Stiles barely noticed, but when Derek pulled away and spun him around, Stiles could only blink, mouth falling open, both from the shock of stopping suddenly and from the feeling of his now-warm back coming into sudden, jarring contact with the cold rock under the overhang. Derek stepped right into his space, hands coming up to cup Stiles’s face. Their eyes met for a moment before Derek kissed him, licking into his open mouth as though they’d kissed hundreds of times before.
Derek kissed him hard, slotting their mouths together. Stiles could feel his tongue, and he knew Derek could feel his, and holy fucking fuck, this was really, really happening.
Stiles tentatively rested his hands on Derek’s chest, cold fingers warming quickly against his hot skin. Stiles was barely aware that without Derek’s body against his, his jeans had given up on gravity, falling far enough that this time, when Derek wrapped his hand around Stiles’s cock, he had a lot more room to maneuver.
Stiles kissed back, flailing a little as he grabbed onto any part of Derek he could reach.
Derek pulled back only so that they could breathe before kissing him again. He stopped only once, holding his hand to Stiles’s mouth. “Get it wet, so I can make you come.”
Stiles could ignore the little smirk when Stiles complied with a quick, heartfelt nod. Derek’s gaze darkened when Stiles sucked on his fingers, before getting as much of Derek’s hand wet as he could. Derek kept Stiles’s gaze when he started stroking him again, fingers tightening on the shaft, up over the head, and down, moving much faster now that his fingers were slick.
Stiles couldn’t look away. Having Derek’s attention had always been a heady thing, but having all of Derek’s attention was just as hot as the handjob. Stiles sucked in air through his open mouth.
“I-- I’m. . . Derek .”
“Yeah? Come on then.”
Stiles pressed the back of his head against the rock, eyes drifting shut as he started to come.
“No! Open. Your. Eyes.” Derek’s voice was barely discernible from the growly whisper.
Helpless, Stiles complied as he came, Derek’s hand working him through it. He felt his balls tightening as he cried out, shivering now for an entirely different reason.
Stiles knew he was gasping like an idiot, but he couldn’t help it. Derek stared at him for half a heartbeat more before stepping back slightly, bringing the hand covered in Stiles’s come to his lips before inhaling deeply, eyes fluttering shut before popping back open. He idly wiped his hand on his leg before bending down and pulling up Stiles’s jeans, tucking his dick into his underwear, and carefully zipping and buttoning them, before bending down and picking up his shirt.
Stiles was surprised at the sharp spike of hurt he felt. He didn’t know what to say. Thank you? See you in a few days at the pack meeting? He wasn’t usually one that was into a casual thing, but this. . . this was unexpected, to say the least. Derek had been all over him. Ten minutes ago, Stiles had been pretty sure that he wanted to murder him.
Derek stood back up, and Stiles knew he didn’t hide his expression quickly enough when Derek actually looked shocked before stepping into Stiles’s body again, kissing him hard.
“No. Idiot. The rain’s letting up. Let’s go, before you catch pneumonia.”
“Oh.”
Derek snorted. “Yeah. Oh .” He kissed Stiles again with a quick press of lips before turning and running to the Camaro.
Stiles managed a little jig before sprinting after him. His jeep could wait. Aside from the fact that there was probably a gallon of water in it, he didn’t want to fuck with it right now. It wouldn’t be the first time that Roscoe had gotten rained on. In. Joking aside, Derek really had warmed him up. That, or his natural energy had replenished enough that going out into the rain was a shock to the system.
Derek made it to the car first, because of course he did. Hell, he was probably running quickly enough that he ran between raindrops. He opened his trunk and grabbed a bag before turning and getting into the driver’s side. By the time Stiles got there, shivering again as he flung himself into the car, Derek had already wiggled himself into the backseat. The driver’s seat had been pulled up so that there was more room in the back.
“ Oh .” Stiles shut the passenger’s side door on autopilot. So, here was the thing. The Camaro? Hot as fucking hell. Riding in it made Stiles feel 86.4% more badass, just from the looks he got when Derek roared by. He’d had a million different fantasies involving the hood of the Camaro and a certain hazel-eyed werewolf.
What defied the laws of physics, however, was the backseat. Stiles, all six feet of him, could potentially fit back there. If pressed, he could sit- if not comfortably, at least safely if - and this was key- if- people in the front were either Lydia-sized or scootched the seats way up.
Derek raised an eyebrow, as though asking him what he was waiting for. He was soaking wet again, and Stiles stared with wide eyes as he stripped off his boots, socks, and jeans before rummaging in the duffle bag. “Yeah. Oh,” he repeated, and Stiles scrambled out of his wet clothes before climbing back into the back seat with him.
With both of them back here, not to mention with the sheer bulk of Derek’s body seeming to take up twice the physical space, Stiles could acknowledge that it was a bit of a tight fit. He knew, objectively speaking, that people had sex in cars every day. But this car? Maybe some kind of interdimensional portal was involved. . .
By the time Stiles had gotten his shit together, awkwardly twisting so that he could pull the passenger seat up as far as he could, Derek had pulled a folded blanket and a towel out of the duffle bag.
The towel hit him in the head and it was Stiles’s turn to laugh as he dried off what he could, as best he could. His underwear was still soaked, and he was distracted more than a little by the line of Derek’s still-hard cock in his own underwear.
“So, uh. How does this work? I mean, it’s not likely that someone is gonna drive by, but they could. And I don’t want to like, break my dick or something with this amount of spa--”
Derek cupped himself, and Stiles forgot what words were.
“Yep. Nevermind. We’re both very creative.” Needing a distraction, Stiles craned his neck to see his injury. He looked at the spot left by the hail and stilled. It was impossible to tell which part had been left by mother nature, and which part had been left by a surprisingly possessive werewolf.
Well, not too surprising, if Stiles was going to be honest.
He threw the towel at Derek who took it before smirking and shaking his head like a dog, water spraying everywhere.
“You’re a dick. Now I’m gonna get cold again.” Stiles leaned forward to wipe his face off on the towel. He would swear in a court of law that he accidentally brushed his head against Derek’s stomach, but they’d both know he was full of shit by the way Derek gasped when Stiles’s cheek brushed against the head of Derek’s cock. “But I wanna suck you off first.” Stiles turned his head so that his cheek could rub against Derek.
Derek turned in the cramped back seat so that Stiles had as much room as possible, which he figured was another three whole square inches of space. Derek waved his hand a little as though to say ‘have at it’, and Stiles licked his lips, ready to do just that. Stiles acknowledged that he wasn’t exactly known for his coordination, but he was sufficiently motivated to get his mouth on Derek’s cock.
Stiles pulled down the waistband of Derek’s underwear so that the head of Derek’s cock poked out, dark red and wet at the tip. He kissed the head, licking at the precome he found there. Derek’s cock twitched and almost seemed to thicken further before Stiles pulled the waistband again, and lifted Derek up and out.
Stiles didn’t bother teasing. Partly because Derek had waited long enough, and partly because he couldn’t wait to get his mouth on him. This was a long time coming. Er. So to speak. Stiles couldn’t say why it was happening now, but he was so, so ready. Stiles didn’t fuck around. He went as slowly as he could. Derek’s cock was thicker than his own, and a little shorter. He was uncut, and that was something Stiles wanted to spend a lot more time investigating at some other point in his life, but now he wanted to make Derek feel good.
Since the time he turned sixteen, Stiles had felicitated a number of unsuspecting vegetables to make sure that he could take Derek into his throat without gagging. Some small part of him made a mental note to pat himself on the back when Derek moaned a wrecked sounding “Oh, Christ ” when he realized Stiles wasn’t stopping until his lips hit the root. He came back up and went down even more slowly before pulling off to suck on the head. He could feel Derek’s muscles tense and heard the towel rip when Derek pulled it apart. Stiles sucked hard, then drew off to lick Derek, sliding slowly down the shaft to suck on Derek’s balls, heavy and full with come.
He lazily fisted Derek’s cock as he caught his breath, before starting again. He felt Derek’s hand fall tentatively on the back of his head, before moving off. Stiles came back up, tilting his head to meet Derek’s gaze.
“It’s okay. You can fuck my mouth if you want.”
Derek stared at him with the same intense look as before but didn’t resist when Stiles moved one of his hands to the back of his head.
“I mean it. I want you to, Derek.”
Stiles bent to Derek’s cock, and this time Derek steered his head where he wanted it. Stiles moaned when Derek pulled his hair, taking him at his word and moving his head where it felt the best, pulling and tugging until Derek could thrust forward, fucking his throat. Stiles almost slipped off the seat but he flung his hands out for balance, wedging his knee on the floorboard and letting Derek manhandle him where he wanted him the most.
This Stiles had never experienced. He wasn’t a virgin, but he had never had someone he trusted enough to fuck him like this. Derek cried out when Stiles swallowed around him, and the fingers in his hair clenched, pulling hard enough that Stiles found himself moaning in response. Like before, when Derek had been playing with his bruises, the slight pain made him shiver and beg for more.
When Derek abruptly pulled out, Stiles rested his head against Derek’s thigh, gasping for air. He’d thought Derek was about to come. He’d been ready for it. “You stopped.” Stiles’s voice sounded raspy and well-used.
Derek bit his lip and traced his fingers over Stiles’s swollen lips. “I.” Derek blinked and bent down for another kiss, as though he was embarrassed to say anything.
Stiles kissed him back, but pulled away, intrigued by a suddenly awkward Derek. “Come on. Say it. What do you want, Derek?”
Derek pressed his forehead into Stiles’s shoulder, and Stiles took a second to wonder if he’d ever had penetrative sex with another man before. In every other way, Derek had been confident. This was. . . okay. It was kind of adorable if he was being honest. Stiles liked the feeling of confidence it gave him. He kissed Derek again and waited until Derek sheepishly met his eyes.
“Do you want to fuck me?”
Derek shook his head.
“Do you want to stop?”
Derek shook his head emphatically, no.
“Do you want me to fuck you?”
Derek froze.
“Ohhh. That’s it, isn’t it? You want me inside of you.”
Derek gave a minuscule nod. He reached out and ghosted the tips of his fingers down Stiles’s sides, and onto his thighs.
Stiles shivered and exhaled slowly. He had a million other questions but wasn’t sure where to start. He sat up and turned so his back was in the center of the seat. He reached down and kissed Derek’s wrist, smiling a little at how fast his pulse beat.
“I don’t have anything. And don’t tell me that I can’t hurt you; if we do this, we’re gonna use lots of lube.”
Derek cleared his throat and nodded to the duffle bag that had fallen to the floorboard.
Stiles retrieved it, noting that there was water, snacks, some money, a change of clothes, and a cell phone. There was also an open bottle of water-based ‘personal lubricant’.
“You pack lube in your bug-out bag? I’m impressed.” Stiles was impressed.
“I’ve thought of this. Or something like this, before.” Derek paused, thinking. “Well, without the warlocks and the funky magic.”
“Right. And you’re sure and all that?” Stiles slid his hand down Derek’s arm, tugging his hand so that Derek ended up on Stiles’s lap. Derek was bigger than him, and heavier than him, and it was so fucking hot Stiles wanted to just stare and stare and stare. Derek had to stoop so that his head didn’t whack against the dome light, but he managed to somehow curl his body into Stiles’.
“Yeah. If I could have figured out how to do it under the overlook thing without either one of us freezing to death, I would have.” Derek bent and kissed at Stiles’s shoulder again. Stiles wondered what the attraction of his shoulders was. He’d put on some muscle in the last few years, but he still felt too gangly: tall and awkward more often than not.
“ I meant are you sure about me fucking you in this backseat. We might get stuck like this, you know,” Stiles whispered as he helped Derek take off his underwear. He slid his hands down Derek’s sides touching him the same way he’d been touched, smiling when he saw that it was Derek’s turn to shiver, even as he rolled his eyes.
Stiles couldn’t help but kiss him over his heart as he lifted up and pulled the rest of his clothes off. If that was too emotional or whatever, so be it.
Derek handed him the lube and leaned so Stiles could get his fingers in him. He had to indeed, get a little creative, with one leg on the seat, and one kneeling on the floorboard, and Stiles grinned at him, delighted at the smug little raising of his eyebrows Derek gave him when he figured out where to put all his limbs. They kissed, lazily working their mouths together until Derek was breathing a little heavier. Stiles worked him open, fucking him with one finger, then two, scissoring the tight muscle until it loosened enough for his cock.
He spared a thought to be thankful that he’d come already, or he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to keep this slower pace. As it was, the Camaro’s windows had fogged over enough that between that and the rain it was hard to see. The air inside was thick and humid, and Stiles wanted to roll in the mingled scents of the two of them.
Derek bit at his lip and changed the kiss. He wiggled on Stiles’s fingers and rearranged himself on the backseat. From this angle, Stiles had to twist his fingers to reach Derek’s prostate, and he couldn’t help but grin at the gasp and tensing of all Derek’s muscles. He tapped it, then pressed, and returned Derek’s kiss hard enough that Derek made a tiny, shocked sound at everything Stiles was helping him to feel.
Finally, though, Stiles had to stop playing. “Are you ready?” Stiles kissed down Derek’s throat, peppering little kisses over his Adam’s apple and back up to his mouth. Stiles grabbed the lube and applied some to himself, swallowing hard at how good the slick friction felt.
Derek nodded again and wiggled so that his ass bumped against Stiles’s cock. Stiles held himself steady with one hand, and gripped Derek’s hip with the other, still slightly slick from the lube he’d used. Derek used his own hands to spread himself open, and Stiles cried out at the incredible heat of him as Derek slowly rocked down onto the head of his dick.
Stiles gritted his teeth to keep from bucking up. Derek made an ‘mmm’ sound and shifted, using his hands and arms to keep the pace slow as he adjusted. Stiles realized he was gripping Derek’s hip too hard and forced himself to relax his fingers. When Derek bottomed out, Stiles kissed him with lips that absolutely did not tremble as he waited for Derek to be ready for him to move.
When he did, it still took Stiles by surprise. It might have started out slowly for a second, maybe two, but Derek clearly knew what he wanted. He rode Stiles’s cock slowly at first, then with more confidence as they experimented with which angle worked best (For the record, it was with Derek hanging onto Stiles’s shoulders, leaning back through the space to the front seat, with Stiles supporting his hips.) and with a rhythm that quickly made both of them cry out.
Stiles gasped in humid air, overwhelmed by everything in the small space. He could smell sweat and Derek’s shampoo. The windows had fogged up by now, and Stiles was glad for the privacy. He didn’t want anyone to see them like this, to be a part of this moment that they had stolen together.
“Stiles. . .” Derek kissed him, his lips too wet and messy as they slid over his own. Stiles grunted when Derek’s fingers sunk into his hair, scrambling against his scalp enough that it made Stiles moan and arch his back, which forced him just the slightest bit deeper into Derek’s ass. Derek made a rough sound, deep in the back of his throat.
Stiles knew he had about three seconds before he came and fumbled to reach for Derek’s cock, wrapping his long fingers around him as Derek thrust down, holding himself frozen as Stiles jerked him off. He wanted to take longer. He wanted to make this last, but he also couldn’t stop himself from screwing his hips just the tiniest bit, until the muscles in his abdomen tightened, balls drawing tight and full as he thrust one last time into Derek’s heat. He felt Derek cry out with a low roar as come spurted up over Stiles’s fingers, making a mess of Stiles’s abs and chest. Stiles followed him a heartbeat later, pressing his open mouth into Derek’s shoulder and holding the skin he found there in his teeth, forcing himself not to bite down.
It was silent for several minutes as Stiles tried to get his breathing under control. Derek nuzzled his neck, under his ear, scenting him. Scenting them. It made Stiles smile and kiss Derek softly on his lips.
“So this is the part where I say something really romantic and all, right?”
Derek smiled a little. “Or you thank me kindly and we part ways until the next disaster.” He moved a little, disengaging himself and reaching for the pieces of the towel. He snorted a laugh, realizing that he’d helpfully already torn it in two. He handed half to Stiles as he shifted off his lap, cleaning up and then stretching with a low, satisfied sound. His sweaty skin make a gross sounding urrrrrt! sound against his leather seats.
Stiles blinked. “Let’s go with the first one.” He started cleaning up. One of them had gotten come on Derek’s leather seats. Stiles kinda wanted to leave it there.
Derek was quiet for a few seconds before he pulled on his clothes, shifting in the cramped space so gracefully that he made it look easy, before climbing back to the driver’s seat. He started the Camaro and turned on the defogger.
Stiles gaped at him for a second before scrambling to do the same. He had his head in his cold, clammy shirt when he heard Derek speak.
“Well? Where’s my romance?”
Stiles popped out of his shirt and stared wide-eyed at Derek, meeting his gaze in the rearview mirror. Derek’s face was carefully blank. In all the years they’d known each other, Stiles knew this was his ‘I’m not showing my cards first’ face, and the fact that Derek felt the need to make it with him made his heart do weird flips in his chest. He brought his jeans with him to the front of the car and wiggled into them much less gracefully than Derek had.
He managed to bang his knee and almost brain himself on the backrest, but Stiles barely noticed.
Feeling like the idiot Derek so often accused him of being, Stiles reached out and took Derek’s hand. He brought it up to his lips and kissed the palm, before meeting Derek’s gaze with his own. “I don’t know if I have the right words to give you your romance.” Stiles leaned forward to kiss Derek’s lips, pressing them together once, then twice, before breaking away and exhaling with a shaky breath. “But you’ve been the most important thing in my life for longer than you probably realize. I love that you trust me. That you smell like me. I love that we text each other most of the day. I love that you know all my favorite foods and that I know yours. I love. . . I love you , Derek.”
Derek was quiet, but his Adam’s apple bobbed with the way he swallowed. Stiles saw the different emotions filter across his face. He saw his mouth open, then shut as Derek tried to find the words to respond. When Derek reached to cup Stiles’s cheeks in his hands and kiss his lips, and his nose, and his forehead, Stiles knew that Derek felt the same way.
He’d find his words in time.
Stiles rubbed their foreheads together and they sat there for several minutes. Finally, though, Stiles had to open his mouth. “Uh. . . Derek?”
“Yes, Stiles?”
“Remind me to send those warlocks a fruit basket or something. You know. . . as a little thank you.”
Then Derek was laughing, and Stiles was kissing his laughing mouth, and everything was. . .
Well.
It was perfect.
