#sterekweek2015

Stiles only smirked at Derek’s outburst and ran his fingers along Derek’s arm, making him shiver. “You should plan to be out all night, babe,” Stiles whispered before leaving Derek standing in the mostly empty hallway, slightly aroused with his mouth agape. Damn Stiles and his effect on Derek.

The tardy bell rang, snapping Derek out of his daze, and he inwardly cursed and ran to his next class, thoughts of Stiles and their possible plans floating through his head as he tried to pay attention in his English class.

~

When Derek pulled up to the Stilinski house a little before nine and saw that the Sheriff’s cruiser was still in the driveway, he started freaking out. He parked in the neighbor’s driveway both because it hid his car from view of the Stiles’s house due to the row of bushes and because the little old lady that lived there wasn’t awake to notice or care.

He quietly exited his car, carefully shutting the door as softly as he could. The window to Stiles’s bedroom was already open, with only a dim light visible, which Derek assumed was Stiles’s bedside lamp (because there had been a few rare occasions in which he snuck in to Stiles’s room when the Sheriff had been on shift instead of Stiles sneaking out of it).

As he got closer, he could see changing light and shadows through the shut blinds of the living room window, which meant the Sheriff was probably watching T.V. Derek hoped and prayed it also meant the Sheriff was asleep in front of that T.V., but he wasn’t going to hold his breath.

When he was finally beneath Stiles’s window, he didn’t even have to signal because Stiles was already sitting on the sill, beaming down at him. Derek gave him a little wave though, and Stiles’s smile grew as he shook his head. He held up one finger, as if to indicate for Derek to give him a minute and then disappeared from Derek’s view.

Derek wasn’t sure what Stiles was doing, but soon the room went dark and then Stiles was stepping out of his window onto the ledge. Derek watched in awe and shock as Stiles shimmied across the roof and started climbing down the drainpipe.

His heart caught in his throat when Stiles’s foot slipped and the metal brackets that held the pipe to the house groaned. Stiles stilled, repositioning himself to start his descent again. He seemed fine and unworried, but Derek was the opposite. Derek tried to split his attention between making sure Stiles didn’t fall and kill himself and staring at the living room window for any signs that the Sheriff heard the commotion.

Eventually, Stiles got close enough to the ground to jump the last few feet, and he landed with a grunt. After dusting off his hands and jeans, he strode over to Derek, a smug smirk on his face. He pulled Derek down by the neck and gave him a dirty kiss that had Derek moaning and pulling Stiles in closer, hands clenching the sides of the white tank top underneath Stiles’s plaid overshirt.

Stiles broke the kiss with a nip to Derek’s bottom lip. “Hey,” Stiles whispered against Derek’s lips, leaning back enough to give Derek a soft smile.

“Hey,” Derek replied, a smile matching Stiles’s on his face.

“Let’s get out of here,” Stiles said, twining his fingers with Derek’s and dragging him across the lawn. They hadn’t even gotten to the Camaro before Stiles was cursing and turning back.

“What’s wrong?” Derek whispered as loud as he dared.

“I left my window open.”

Derek gave him a “So?” look with his eyebrows.

“My dad’s going to know as soon as he engages the alarm. I’ll just climb back up, and--” Stiles started, and Derek was about to pull him back and tell him it didn’t matter, only he heard the rustle of blinds and then saw the porch light turn on. They were both in plain view of the door, and with the light now flooding the front steps, they were both recognizable.

“Shit,” Stiles muttered and started backing up towards Derek. “Too late.” He turned back to give Derek a mischievous grin over his shoulder. “Better make a break for it, babe.”

“What?” Derek asked right when the front door opened, and he saw the Sheriff, a shotgun in his hand.

Stiles didn’t bother answering, instead dragging Derek behind him as he took off running towards Derek’s car. There were no shots (thank god), but the Sheriff was definitely yelling and shouting at them as they both climbed into the Camaro.

Mainly because he was running on adrenaline, he tore out of the driveway and sped past Stiles’s house (which probably wasn’t smart) and out of the neighborhood. The Sheriff was on his phone standing near the street when they passed.

“Geez, Stiles! Is your dad going to come after us now?!” Derek’s voice was high with nerves.

Stiles, though, waved him off. “We’ll be fine. I mean, he might send some of his deputies to find us, and he might have put an APB out on your car, but it’s no big deal.” Stiles shrugged, and Derek looked over at him, eyes wild.

“Are you insane?!”

Stiles gave another shrug. “You can’t tell me that wasn’t exciting.”

Derek opened his mouth, then closed it. He was not dignifying that question with an answer. Instead, he drove to their usual spot and couldn’t help but look up in the rearview mirror more frequently than usual, worried about flashing red and blue lights.

~

Once they were parked, lights off and hidden from the highway by trees, Derek breathed out a relieved sigh and buried his head in his hands.

“What was I thinking?” Derek muttered to himself.

Stiles climbed over the console to sit in Derek’s lap. “You were thinking that I am awesome, and you like me and enjoy my sense of adventure,” Stiles said, pulling the lever to lean Derek’s seat back. He pushed himself against Derek’s chest, hands in Derek’s hair to pull his head back, so he could press open-mouthed kisses to Derek’s neck.

“Hmmm, yeah, something like that,” Derek replied, his own hands drifting down Stiles’s back to palm his ass. Stiles ground his hips down, causing Derek to groan and squeeze Stiles’s ass.

The truth was, Stiles was right, mostly anyway. Stiles’s boldness, riskiness, and recklessness were all things that appealed to Derek, made him feel alive, like he could do anything with Stiles. But, that wasn’t the only reason why he did these things with Stiles or went along with his crazy plans.

It was because he was protective of Stiles; he’d rather be there getting in trouble (or out of it) with Stiles instead of Stiles being on his own. Case in point: Stiles had dragged him to a club last week, and Derek had ended up punching a dude because he was getting handsy with Stiles on the dance floor. He would have never done something like that, but it was Stiles. He had to. And Stiles had rewarded him handsomely for protecting his honor. (A reward Derek wouldn’t soon forget.)

He knew it was because he cared deeply for Stiles, maybe even loved him, not that he’d ever told Stiles or said it out loud. But, deep down he knew that was the reason.

He pushed his thought of his feelings down though so he could focus on making out with Stiles, the feeling of Stiles’s body against his, Stiles’s long fingers tangled in his hair, his own fingers sliding underneath Stiles’s shirt to touch skin. He was lost in the touches, of the feeling of Stiles’s lips against his, their tongues tangled together, too lost to notice the flashing lights.

When the police siren went off, they both broke apart.

“Shit,” Stiles muttered as he pulled his shirt down and scrambled off of Derek’s lap and into the passenger seat. “Quick, Derek, drive; we’ll lose him in a corn field or something.”

Derek huffed and rolled his eyes. “There’s nowhere for me to go, for one. And two, where the hell is there a corn field? Plus, there’s no way this car would make it out of that corn field.”

Stiles pouted, arms folded over his chest. He didn’t protest, which meant he knew Derek was right.

Instead, they sat there, looking guilty, as one of the Sheriff’s deputies shined a light in their eyes and indicated Derek roll the window down. Derek obliged and willingly gave the deputy his license and registration.

After what felt like an eternity, the deputy finally returned and told them the Sheriff would like to talk to them himself and that the deputy would follow them to the station. Derek could do nothing but agree and steadfastly ignore the groan from Stiles.

~

All in all, the evening at the station with Stiles’s dad didn’t end too terribly. Stiles was grounded for a week, and Derek was given a warning for the speeding he did when he and Stiles left the house in a hurry. Turns out the Sheriff wasn’t too upset about the dating thing, although he did give what Stiles claimed was an empty threat of arrest if he caught them doing more than making out.

It was incredibly awkward, but he didn’t get shot or arrested and he still got to be with Stiles, which was the best part, according to Stiles.

Who, on closer inspection, happened to be Derek Hale, the much older roommate of Scott’s friend Isaac, who had, for his part, ignored Stiles for the last three months he’d known him. Which was fine, because Stiles had a lot of practice at admiring from afar, a Lot of practice. Capital L.

At this moment in time though, with gyrating attractive people who were not even remotely interested in gyrating in his vicinity also pretending he didn't exist, Stiles felt that maybe the several month long moratorium should come to an end. At least that way they could be miserable together.

“Hi!”

Derek’s eyebrows did a Mexican wave of confusion.

“This seat taken? No? Cool, I’ll just…” He perched on the barstool. “Yeah. So, uh, how’s it going? Enjoying the party?-”

Derek scowled in a way that Stiles felt could be interpreted as ‘no, I’m not enjoying the party’ rather than ‘stop talking to me you weirdo.’ so he took it as a sign to continue.

“-Or well, not. I totally understand dude, I suck at this kind of thing, totally not my style, always come off looking like a douchebag. I think it might be a medical condition, you heard of foot in mouth disease? Not like, foot and mouth disease. I’m pretty sure I’d be in a quarantine if I had that, Ha.-”

A very small quirk turned up the corners of his mouth.

“-No like, the minute I open my mouth, the worst possible thing I could say comes out of it. It’s a curse! I cant imagine having conversation like a normal person. But you seem to have that whole caper down pat… Or well, you’ve got the not-foot-in-mouth thing working for you at least…”

The eyebrows said ‘oh?’

“I’m not sure not-saying-anything would work all that well for me…” he grinned deprecatingly and got a very tentative smile in return.

“I’m Stiles by the way, I think we’ve met, but I don't know if I actually introduced myself…” He extended his hand, which Derek took after a moments hesitation.

“Derek”

“Yeah man! You’re Isaac’s roomie right?-”

There was a brief flash of surprise, and a minute nod.

“-I popped by the other day with Scott before the game, crazy you know, I would not have expected the Mets to lose to those guys. Completely unforeseen, I even lost fifty to Scott, and that never happens! I feel like I’ve been cheated-”

The bartender plonked a glass of garish pink liquid in front of him and he grabbed it mid flow, nodding his assent, although he had no idea where it had come from.

“-Thanks -like the gods conspired against me or something. It’s like that essay I had to write for post modern lit-”

Derek’s left eyebrow was slowly climbing its way up his forehead.

“- Sorry, I’m rambling! Feel free to cut me off man, any time. God knows I can talk for hours if you let me go.” Stiles pulled a face and Derek’s other eyebrow joined the first.

There was an awkward pause.

‘So, Wolverine huh? That’s cool, Wouldn't have picked you as a DC man! But I like the subtlety. It’s nice to see you in something other than black and dark grey.-” Oh dear god, why did I say that? Now he probably thinks I’ve been stalking him! “- Not that it doesn't suit you, it’s just... nice?... to see variety!” You are a complete social failure.

Derek had this cute little incredulous smirk. “I’m not sure Yellow is your color…” he said and his eyes flicked down, then up Stiles’ body.

Stiles couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or the stuffy room, but he suddenly felt hot all over. “Oh. Uhh… yeah, it was- Scott was gonna come as Snoopy, but someone stole the head and used it to make a were-rights art installation on the Quad. So, I’m flying solo.”

Derek got this constipated look on his face again and his eyes flicked up to focus on something over Stiles shoulder.

“Uh” Stiles turned. Speaking of the devil. “Oh hey Scotty! Sup?” Scott had his arm draped over Hawkeye’s shoulder and was smiling goofily at her as they walked over to Derek and Stiles at the bar.

“Hey Stiles! Derek.” The killer glare he received barely even dented his perennially cheery attitude. “This is Allison, she just moved over from Jackson with her dad. Ally this is Stiles” he waved. “And this is Derek.”

Derek growled and flashed his eyes and was suddenly all up in Scott’s personal space. “What the hell do you think you’re doing.” It was really more of a growl, and Scott barred his teeth instinctively.

“Woah man.” Stiles tripped off the stool and tried to pull Derek back a little, the contact seemed to make it worse though, because Derek actively growled at Scott and they both wolfed out a little. “Okay… O-kay” He took a step back, they were starting to draw attention. “Scott, let it go man, Whatever it is, walk away, just walk away.” It was too late though, the wolves already stuck in their primal power struggle.

“What do you think you’re doing, rubbing it in like that?” Derek enunciated each word like a punch.

All Stiles could think was: Thank god they’re still verbal.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Scott snapped around his fangs.

It was the wrong thing to say and Derek snarled and lunged forward, but came up against the suddenly very real bow and arrow Allison had been using as a prop.

“Hold it right there.”

Derek was growling still, a continuos rumble that shook through their rib cages even over the thumping bass from the party, but he didn't move.

A bouncer was making his way determinedly over to them.

Stiles tentatively touched Derek’s elbow. “Derek, come on man, let it go.”

The wolf wheeled on him, and Stiles flinched, trapped in his furious red tinged stare. “Let it GO? He’s practically cheating on you right in front of your face and you want me to let it go?”

“WHAT!?” Stiles took a step back and the barstool pressed into his back.

Derek barreled on. “You expect me to just stand aside while he disrespects you like that?”

“What.” Stiles mind was reeling.

“You deserve better than that Stiles. Not some asshole who clearly doesn't give a shit about how you feel. If I was dating you I’d-”

He was cut off by the Bouncer who grabbed him firmly by the shoulders. “Sorry son, but I need you to come with me.” Derek’s entire body froze, then sagged in defeat as the bouncer walked him away. His eyes bored into Stiles’ all the way out the door.

“Well.” Stiles stressed the ‘L’s as he turned to slump over the bar. Scott perched next to him.

“Are you okay?” Allison patted him gently on the shoulder.

“Yeah… m fine.” he smiled softly. “What was that all about.” Scott jerked his head over his shoulder to indicate Derek as he waved three fingers at the bartender.

Three shots of vodka appeared in front of them as Stiles answered. “I have absolutely no idea.” Derek’s final, unfinished sentence was still percolating its way into his head. It’d all been so weird. “If I were dating you I’d”- but that would mean- No way. No way. He looked up at the door. “I gotta go.”

“What? Why? Stiles!” Scott tried to catch his arm, but he was already halfway across the room. Fighting his way through the dance floor with surprising speed.

Stiles burst out the door into the crisp autumnal air in time to hear: “Go on home now.”

“But-”

“No son, go home, get some rest, cool off. You can see him again in the morning.” There was a gusty sigh. “Do you need someone to call a cab?”

“No. Thank you.”

“Alright.” The bouncer walked up the steps, past a couple of kids smoking while they hung off the hand rail like costumed carpet pythons, and towards Stiles. He raised his eyebrows when he saw him frozen on the landing. “Okay son?”

“Y-yeah.” He reflexively wiped his sweaty hands on his shirt.

“Hooo boy.” The bouncer shook his head. “I aint touching this with a ten foot pole… Have a nice night kid!” He stepped up to the door and went in. Leaving Stiles alone on the landing.

He took the steps slowly.

“Derek?” He asked, reaching the bottom and looking around.

He was about ten yards away form the stairs, lurking by a lamp post with his arms folded and a scowl. “What do you want.” He glared at the tarmac.

“I, um, I’m sorry about’ He gestured vaguely at the street.

Derek just shrugged. “Why are you here Stiles?”

“I just- Whatever you think is going on between me and Scott, you’re wrong.” Derek huffed and rolled his eyes. “No, listen, we aren't together, we- I- Scotts like my brother. I’d never-” he took a breath, Derek was watching him and he knew he had his full attention now. “It was really, um, something, what you did in there and I- um, want to thank you, even if you were misguided, because no one has ever done anything like that for me before, and I came out here because I thought you should know that, and because I thought I should tell you that if you’ve been avoiding me because you think I’m dating Scott, then don’t. I’m not, and I don't want you to.”

Derek had stepped forward as he spoke, leaning into Stiles space a little. “You really aren't together?” his voice was soft, and thick with something Stiles shied away from categorizing.

“We really aren’t.” His heart felt like it was going to leap out of his body and he had the bizarre urge to clutch at it. Derek’s hand was hovering by his elbow, the proximity sending reactive tingles through his skin.

“Good.” Derek leant in further, inches away from Stiles and his breath fanned over his cheeks as he spoke. “Because I’d like to date you.”

A bright flush fled across Stiles’ skin, and he was under no misapprehensions why this time as Derek’s lips slid over his, fingers smoothing up his arm to curl against his neck. Tilting his head for a better angle and ever so slightly parting his lips. Stiles gasped softly, and Derek used the opportunity to skate his tongue over his bottom lip, following with a gentle nip. He pulled back so Stiles could drag in a ragged breath.