Just some last few words to officially end this week: thanks to everyone who posted pretty edits, awesome gifs, wonderful fanmixes and amazing fics. We had a great time reblogging your stuff and we're glad to see that so many people love Derek.
Here's to you, guys.
On a side note, it's possible that this is going to stay an active Derek Hale blog, so you might not want to unfollow just yet. We'll keep you informed, though.
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”What’s this?” Derek pokes at the notebook open on the table by the sofa. The younger has for some reason decided to invade his loft for the evening, even if Derek is still putting furniture together and is anything but social, parts strewn everywhere. Stiles has offered no help what so ever and has face planted the couch instead, flipping through Derek’s iPod.
Derek’s just about had it with Ikea in general and sits down in the sofa, forcing Stiles to make a little room. He can still read the instructions despite the lack of lamps, the sun hasn't set yet, but he’s been at it all day and he’s sick of it. The bed’s done, that’s all he needs until tomorrow.
“It’s a bucket list.”
“A bucket list.”
“Yeah, you know, things I want to do before I die.”
“Stiles, I know what a bucket list is.”
“Right, right.” Stiles mumbles into the cushion he’s face down in. “You can read if you wanna.”
Derek picks it up, scanning through the first page of two.
“You’re not driving the Camaro, Stiles.”
Stiles grumbles something into the pillow again, this time less sleepy and infinitely snappier. Derek can’t hear what he says, but how he says it makes the message pretty clear anyway. He continues reading and isn’t very surprised by anything he finds. Go to Rome, kiss someone, drive the Wolfmobile, get drunk in Vegas. One does stand out, however.
“Learn how to slow dance?”
“Don’t laugh.” Stiles says immediately, half sitting up. “I.. Mom and dad used to slow dance sometimes, so. Besides, prom’s coming up.”
“I'm not laughing. My parents used to, as well”, Derek offers. It’s not often Stiles talks about his mother, probably less often than Derek speaks of his own family. He knows how tough it can be. “It’s not too complicated as long as you have some sense of rhythm.”
“Wait, you know how to dance?” Stiles looks at him like it’s a damn poker game and Stiles thinks he’s cheating.
Derek looks back at him, studying him for a moment.
“You know what?” He reaches out and steals the iPod from Stiles’ hand, quickly finding the old playlist Laura put together, and then plugs it in to the speakers on the floor by the couch. When he stands up, Stiles has flopped onto his back, stretching out like a cat in sunlight.
“What?” He cocks an eyebrow.
“Come on.” Derek extends a hand.
Stiles just stares at it. Derek motions to him to do as he says and Stiles takes hold of his hand, allowing Derek to pull him up from the couch and towards the middle of the floor, away from the debris in the corner.
“Do you know how to dance at all?”
“I do the best drunken rendition of the Gangnam Style dance in Beacon Hills high?” Stiles grins. Derek just chuffs and reaches out to Stiles’ free hand, guiding it to rest on his shoulder.
“Then I’ll lead first.”
“I'm taller”, he protests.
“It’s not even an inch”, Derek counters.
“Whatever you say, oh almighty alpha.” Stiles steps a little closer and Derek lays his hand on Stiles’ hip.
“Just step side to side like this.” He sways a little, shifting his weight from one leg to the other and Stiles follows, then steps back. After a little while he gently coaxes Stiles around, moves a little more. “Feel how I guide you with this hand?” He squeezes their twined hands carefully.
Stiles is a quick learner, always has been, and this is no exception.
“Yeah?”
“Just keep the tempo and push lightly, it doesn't get much harder than that.”
“That’s what she said.” Stiles snickers and Derek just stares at him. “Oh, come on, I know you like me.” Stiles moves his hand from Derek’s, up over his bare arm all the way to his shoulder, lacing his fingers together behind Derek’s neck. He decidedly ignores the goosebumps and moves both of his hands to the dip of Stiles’ lower back.
“I only want to kill you some of the time”, he admits.
“Aaw, see? I knew you cared!” The song switches, going from INXS to something slower, more piano. “So how come you know how to dance?”
“Mom taught me the basics, Laura taught me a little more when we moved to New York.”
They’re barely dancing now, swaying along to the music and moving around in tiny steps. He pulls Stiles a little closer, close enough for it to go from grip to embrace. Stiles wraps his arms tighter around his neck and leans forward, resting his head on Derek’s shoulder.
“Mom always said she’d teach me when she got better.”
He really, really doesn't know what to answer to that, he isn't always sure when it comes to Stiles, so he just hugs Stiles closer, feeling the warmth of him all the way from his feet and up. Judging by the soft sigh next to his ear, this was the right thing to do.
“I like dancing. ‘S nice”,
“Depends a lot on who you’re dancing with.” Derek absentmindedly runs a palm along Stiles’ spine.
Stiles chuckles and the puffs of breath against his collarbone makes Derek shiver. The fingers softly scratching the back of his neck might have something to do with it as well.
“You’re nice. You smell nice, too.”
“I.. thank you.” It’s a damn good thing Stiles still has his face in Derek’s neck because Derek’s pretty sure he’s blushing for the first time in years.
“Hey, did you ever go to prom?”
“Nah.” He’s pretty sure him and Laura were still on the run then, trying to shake off the potential dangers of being a teenage pack of two.
“Do you want to?”
“With you?”
“Yeah.” Stiles sounds calm but Derek can feel his heart pick up against his chest and it’s a testament to how much time they've spent together that Derek has to physically restrain himself from fist pumping. Instead he buries his face in Stiles hair.
“I think I’d like that, yeah.”
Stand By Me picks up where the soft piano left off and he figures they can dance for one more song.
