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Stiles spun circles in his chair beneath the unrelenting rays of the scorching summer sun that poured through his window and across his desk, a scathing spray of heat that splashed across his face with every revolution.
He was fucked. No two ways about it.
Or maybe it was more accurate to say he wasn't fucked. He sure as fuck wasn't fucking unless you meant fucking for emphasis, in which case he sure as fuck wasn't fucking fucking. Fuck. The word fuck started to lose its solidity as dizziness seeped into his brain, distracting him from his dour thoughts.
He came to a stop and rubbed his face as the room wobbled around him, still bathed in the bleaching rays of the sun until a sturdy shadow cast itself across Stiles' chest.
"You can use the door you know. They're a thing. A thing that's far less likely to get the neighbors to call the cops on us which would be bad because the cops work for my dad. Do you want to see my dad pissed? I don't wanna see my dad pissed," Stiles rambled, waving around a number 2 ticonderoga like a conductor as it punctuated his statements.
Derek huffed his hunky werewolf ass down onto the bed. "Your dad loves me."
"My dad tolerates you."
"I have a standing invitation to dinner."
"That you never take him up on."
Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles rolled his eyes.
"Bring your own food then."
Derek raised the other brow as Stiles sighed in defeat.
"Fine, you have a point with the whole, you know, supernaturally hefty appetite, but like, you could eat before you come."
"That defeats the point of dinner."
"No it does not. The point of dinner," he punctuated his word with a point of the pencil, "is to get to know you." Stiles swung the chair around to face Derek as he spoke. "It's how he vetts people, you know, gets a feel for them. He's never gonna trust you if you never break bread with us."
The aggrieved sigh this drew from Derek was so decidedly canine that only the knowledge that Derek could and would walk right back out the window kept him from making a joke.
Stiles walked over to clap Derek on the shoulder before joining him on the bed, laptop in hand. "I know buddy, but what can you do? He's an old man stuck in his ways. Now, which episode were we on?"
*
Some time later, Stiles sat alone once more in his room, illuminated in the light of an LCD screen that washed out the meager pallid rays of the moon. The radio blared Lady Gaga to mask any offending sounds from wolfy ears. He hadn't started yet, instead he found himself scrolling through thumbnail after thumbnail, looking for a very specific physique.
He settled on a video with a sinking feeling in his gut that definitely had nothing to do with his unrequited crush on Derek, made all the worse by the way they'd fallen into a pattern of bothering each other, of filling each other's space. Ever since Scott and Allison made up, Stiles found himself with a superfluence of space, right up until he bothered Derek enough to get Derek to bother him back.
Now, they traded time at each other's houses. It was weird, it was delightful, it was maddening. Stiles slid a hand into his boxers as the video played and, in far too little time, found himself spent.
The post-nut clarity was a bitch and a half.
Fuck, but this sucked. He had all the Derek he could handle but not in the way he wanted, and fuck, he wanted so bad. His thoughts trailed back to the way the man's skin slid beneath his too-tight shirt, the loose, languid way he moved when he casually set aside his jacket, hell even the way he smelled, like clean sweat and crisp fabric softener with something maddeningly masculine about it, something that burned into his brain and drove him wild.
He scraped his hand through his hair as his dick valiantly attempted to ready itself for round two.
His hand crept down once more. Why the fuck not? It was the most action he was likely to see in forever.
*
Stiles' phone sent his limbs flailing, knocking him the rest of the way off the bed.
"Hello?" The husky crackle of sleep still crept into his voice.
"You were supposed to be here half an hour ago!" Scott said through the phone.
Stiles groaned. "Can I take a rain check? I-" His mouth stretched into a cavernous yawn mid-sentence. "I didn't exactly sleep last night."
"Stayed up having fun with Derek?" Scott teased.
"Yeah, fun." He tried to put on a brave face. It was fun, it really was, he loved spending time with Derek, but…
"What's wrong? Did something happen? Do I need to beat him up?"
Stiles snorted at the thought. "Naw, just. I dunno man, it's getting to me, you know?"
"What is?"
"The whole Derek thing." Stiles settled onto the bed as he talked. "Why the fuck do I keep falling in love with people who only want me as a friend?"
"I don't think this is like Lydia."
"I guess not, but like, I don't know what it is, you know? I want him. I want him so much but he's never gonna see me as anything more than some dumb kid he hangs out with. Even my Dad winced when he figured it out. My own father feels sorry for me, Scott."
"Have you actually, you know, asked him out?"
Stiles scoffed, "No, are you crazy? He'd laugh me into next Thursday. Have you seen him? Have you seen me? I'm over being looked at like I'm a piece of shit stuck to his shoe, thank you."
"Come on, it wouldn't be like that."
"It would, it so totally would, then I'd be sitting here alone, in the dark, pining about how much I miss him."
"Isn't-"
"Languishing, Scott," Stiles cut him off, "I'd be languishing. I'd wander the earth Derekless and destitute. Do you really want me to wander the earth Derekless and destitute?"
"You're a teenager, you're already destitute."
"Yeah but I'd be Derekless, Scott. Without Derek. You aren't understanding the seriousness of that situation."
Scott sighed.
"All I want is a bad romance but I'm stuck with a sad bromance instead. Heartbreaking. Unfair. It's a cruel, cruel world out there Scotty."
"It sure is buddy. At least you won't have to languish alone. You've still got me," Scott joked back.
Stiles grinned despite himself. "Let's be real, I've got, like, partial custody. Allison's got you on weekends."
"Alternating weekends but you get me on holidays."
"Except Valentine's day."
"Except Valentine's day," Scott agreed solemnly before they both broke out into peals of laughter.
"You gonna be ok?" Scott asked.
"I'll be fine, I just need some time alone to think, you know?"
He could practically hear Scott nodding to the empty air. "See you in school."
"See you in school."
The phone fell silent as Stiles lay on the bed, alone with his thoughts right up until the window slid open.
Stiles sat up, heart plunging into his stomach as Derek's shoulders cleared the sill. Shit, how much had he heard?
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. His heart climbed into his throat, his pulse rose. He could feel the jitter in his limbs as his thumbnail rubbed along a blanket seam. He wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else, needed to delay this talk, needed to deflect, needed to-
"Stiles?"
Stiles wasn't here right now, thank you, he was too busy trying to rein in his rising panic to address the Derek in the room.
"Breathe." Warm, solid hands came to rest on Stiles' shoulders as Derek crouched down to meet his gaze.
"I'm fine, it's fine. We're totally fine. I'm great! Peachy keen! I'm good. Breathing is happening."
Derek's stupidly pretty eyes were searching his face as if they expected to find something and Stiles, Stiles didn't know what to do with that, or with the fact that Derek hadn't stormed off the other way after overhearing his conversation with Scott.
…Maybe he only caught the tail end?
Stiles stilled, narrowing his eyes. "How much of that did you hear?"
"All of it." There was the faintest hint of a grin twitching at Derek's lips but his eyes were all silent mirth.
"Then why are you still here?"
"…Did you really think my feelings were platonic?"
"YES!" Stiles exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "You didn't- You never- How the fuck was I supposed to know with you being such a fucking chaste charlie?"
At that, Derek had the sense to be abashed. "I wanted you to take it at your own pace."
"Since when has my pace been anything but 'barreling forward full speed' Derek?"
Derek made a face. "I thought you were afraid of your dad."
Stiles rolled his eyes. "Do you know how little fear of my dad holds me back?"
"I do now," Derek said, leaning in close. Stiles met him with a kiss that started tentatively but swiftly turned deep and dirty as Derek pushed him back on the bed, bracketing him with his arms.
Stiles gasped for breath as Derek went to work on Stiles' shoulder. "Fuck, dude, we could have been doing this the whole time." Derek's grunt of assent vibrated through Stiles' skin as teeth met flesh. Stiles bucked up with a gasp. "Shit that's good. More of that, please and thank you."
They spent some time there as Stiles squirmed blissfully beneath Derek until he finally pulled back to look at all the marks he'd left. Derek paused—then, tilting his head as if listening before he grinned, held out a hand and hauled Stiles onto unsteady feet.
"Coffee?" Derek asked.
Stiles rolled his eyes as they left the room. "Does caffeine even do anything for you guys?"
Derek shrugged as they walked towards the top of the stairs only to be halted by a familiar fatherly voice.
"About damn time you kids got your shit together," the sheriff said from the bottom of the stairs.
Stiles floundered, rushing to ineffectually cover the side of his neck with his hand. "Dad!"
"Good morning." Derek nodded placidly, as if addressing a friend instead of his boyfriend's father. Were they boyfriends now? They were probably boyfriends. Shit. Stiles still couldn't believe he'd somehow pulled Derek fucking Hale.
Stiles blinked. "You're not mad?"
His father snorted. "Hell no. I already won the bet with Melissa. I'd have had a talk with you already if the whole thing weren't so damn funny. Just promise me one thing?"
"Yeah?" said Stiles.
"Plausible deniability."
"That we can do," said Stiles, accompanied by a nod from Derek.
"Right!" Stiles clapped, "Now who wants coffee?”