Archive of Our Own ^beta

Derek is in his office placing an order with tkdshop when he hears voices coming from the dojang. Tuesday afternoons are generally quiet, and he isn't expecting anyone since most the students are in school and the adults come later. Derek is managing the place by himself until Laura comes back for the evening classes, so he walks out to investigate.

"I'm not so sure about this," a man says, and Derek knows that voice.

It's indeed Sheriff Stilinski, who's looking up at the portraits of the black belts who trained with at the school over the years. There are several dozens of them, and great fighters at that, which is a point of pride for the Hale Taekwondo School. Stilinski is out of uniform, dressed in sweatpants and a BHPD T-shirt. By his side with his back to Derek there's another guy with dark hair, a lot more slender, who sighs dramatically.

"Come on, Dad! We've had this discussion before."

It's the Sheriff's kid, then.

"I know, but…"

The son talks right over Stilinski. "We discussed, you agreed, -"

The Sheriff interrupts him at his turn. "That's not how I remember it going!"

"Hey, we had a deal. Suck it," came the reply and Derek is surprised that the Sheriff lets his son talk to him that way. Sounds like a real brat.

"It's nice to see you, Sheriff," Derek says as he approaches, drawing his visitors' attention.

The Sheriff breaks into a smile and they shake hands. "Derek! Great to see you too. It's been a while."

Meanwhile, the son has turned and Derek reevaluates his age to late teens, though it's hard to say... could be a few years more or less. He's cute, though, and just forming the thought makes Derek uncomfortable, even though it's unlikely that the Sheriff will realize he's just ogled his underage son.

"How can I help you today, Sir?"

"My son –" the Sheriff starts but he gets interrupted once again by the kid, who slinks to his side, grinning at Derek with his hand extended.

"Stiles, my name is Stiles. Hi," he says, determined to catch Derek's eyes.

Derek shakes hands with him and curses inwardly because another glance shows that Stiles isn't cute, he's gorgeous.

"Derek Hale," he grumbles (it takes a lot of self restraint not stare at that mouth, Jesus). He drops Stiles' hand as soon as it's polite to focus on the Sheriff again.

"Stiles gave me an ultimatum," he says, looking more amused than crossed. "Either I start running with him or I choose my own sport. So here I am."

That's great news. Derek appreciates the Sheriff a lot, who's been nothing but kind to their family since his mom opened the school in Beacon Hills 30 years ago. Stilinski regularly sends them teens that are flirting with delinquency instead of having them sentenced to community service or Juvie. Some of those kids earned their place on the wall, too, like the inseparable trio of Isaac, Erica and Boyd, who became Derek's close friends in the last six years. Not everyone can be put on the straight and narrow path by discipline and anger redirection, though, but the Sheriff never blamed the Hales for it.

Derek raises an eyebrow, amused at how smug the Sheriff looks at having outsmarted his kid. "I hope you don't think that Taekwondo classes are easier than running."

"Oh, I am aware that my old bones will suffer here," the Sheriff says. "But at least it won't be utterly boring and soul-sucking."

"Hey," Stiles protests. "Running is very good to keep in shape, old man! I'm sure Derek agrees."

"Sure, I run seven miles every day myself," he says with a nod, and Stiles grins as if he won a point. "But it is utterly boring and soul sucking," Derek can't help to add, just to nag.

"Hey!" Stiles exclaims again, then narrows his eyes at Derek while the Sheriff laughs. "I have no idea where or when you run, but it must not be in the good places. There are fantastic trails in the preserve."

"That's true," Derek concedes. "But most days I use the treadmill since I have to keep an eye on this place," he says with a gesture towards the equipment in the fitness corner.

Stiles huffs with amusement. "And this explains that. Treadmills are machines of the devil, and never a substitute for nice outdoor trails. Though frankly, I'm sure I'd enjoy the scenery quite a bit in here, too," Stiles adds with an obvious once over of Derek's person, followed by a wink.

Derek is shocked at the boldness, and he quickly looks at the Sheriff who has drifted away to look at the pictures on the wall some more.

"Is that Erica Reyes?" the Sheriff asks. "Wow, I almost didn't recognize her."

Even if he seems oblivious to it, Derek momentarily panics at the Sheriff's jailbait son hitting on him. The little prick laughs at Derek's discomfort and claps his shoulder, lingering a second too long before walking towards his dad, which flusters Derek even more.

"Oh, yeah, Erica is a real badass. She comes here?" Stiles asks. Derek wonders how come he knows her; it's probably because she just started giving after-school classes at the Beacon Hills High School.

"Yes. She passed her third Dan five month ago, in fact. She's teaching tonight. I'm sure she'd love seeing you again, Sheriff."

"About that… As you are aware, I don't have that steady a schedule if emergencies pop up. How flexible with attendance are the lessons here?"

"Don't worry, we'll make it work," Derek says. "To have good results in fitness, I recommend seventy-five minute classes at least twice a week. Three times if it's doable for you."

"That's fantastic," Stiles says, nodding. "You know what? I think this is rekindling my thirst for the martial arts."

Derek stomach drops. If Stiles was legal and not the Sheriff's son, having him register for classes and the prospect of seeing him regularly would be the most exciting thing to happen in his life in a while. Things being what they are, though, it feels like Trouble with a capital T is about to enter his life.

"I never allowed you to take classes for reasons that I think are still valid," the Sheriff says.

"And you, therefore foiled my dream to become a ninja, I know. Thanks, Dad. But excuse you, I'm a lot more graceful and less accident prone that I was in sixth grade. This might be the way to expand my horizons, with the bonus that I'll spend more time doing fun things with you," he tells his father.

The Sheriff's answering smile and the big hug he draws Stiles into is heartwarming. On the other hand, after a second Stiles looks up over the Sheriff's shoulder and winks, again, while waggling his eyebrows at Derek. It clearly advertises that he intends to have "fun" with Derek, too.

Yep. He's screwed.

**

As he predicted, Derek's life becomes exponentially more frustrating once the Stilinskis officially register for classes later that week. Pretty much everyone is absolutely delighted by this turn of events – his mom might even have given the duo three months for free! - so Derek hides how much it's bad news for him the best he can.

It's impossible to avoid Stiles entirely since Derek's in the dojang almost 16 hours a day when there are no tournaments to attend. He knows he should get out more, have a life outside of the business as his family has been urging him to do, but every time he tried it turned out catastrophic. His apartment is dull and lonely, anyway. And right across the street, for that matter, so every time he steps out it's like the school and family are calling for him.

Derek does his best to minimize interactions with Stiles, and limits them to nods to say hello and not much else. He's aware that it makes him look like a total jerk, but he hopes to squish the problem in the bud. Maybe Stiles will drop out after a couple of weeks, like a lot of newbies. It isn't a nice sentiment, but at this point Derek doesn't even care. He has sworn to avoid trouble, especially of the emotional kind, so evasive maneuvers it is. His hope is that Stiles will leave him alone when he finds someone else to fixate on.

But at the moment, whenever Stiles is in the dojang, Derek feels his eyes on him as if it's a physical contact. The only relief is that Stiles has classes only twice a week, and he and his Dad are in the beginners group with Erica while Derek teaches a different class on the other side of the big curtain that separates the dojang in two.

The fixed schedule allows Derek to brace himself in advance for any eventual interaction (he has a mantra: "do not look at the pretty, do not engage in banter, do not smile even if he's hilarious" that he repeats constantly as soon as they are in the same space). Teaching helps, as Derek easily focuses on his own students when the lessons start. It's an intermediates class where some are starting regional competitions. Derek has a soft spot for Liam, who with a little discipline is starting to channel an aggression problem into something more productive.

"The San Francisco meet is in a month," Derek tells him after class on a Monday. If doing some overtime with Liam means that he can avoid potential small talk with the students leaving the evening lessons, it's a happy coincidence. "So we'll do more sparring from now on."

"That's not a problem," Liam says with a smile. "With you?"

Derek nods. "When I can, but mostly with Isaac. But let's see what you've got today. Put on your gear."

He helps Liam buckle the padding, and checks that the helmet is well fastened. Since Liam is not really a threat for him at his level, Derek doesn't put any for today.

They get in position in the center of the floor, salute, and Liam starts bouncing slightly while looking for an opening. Derek takes a fighting stance, and stays facing Liam as he hops around him, but no hits are coming.

"Come on," Derek invites, gesturing.

Liam throws a timid jab, which isn't his usual style. He follows it with a kick that barely clears Derek's belt. Immediately Liam bounces back into his guard stand and bounces more.

"I said sparring, not dancing," Derek says, perplexed, after Liam does the same thing a couple of times.

"Just preparing for the counter," Liam says. "I know I have to work on that."

"True. But you won't mark any points if you don't do anything! Show me your kicks; don't worry about the counters for now. "

The next pass is better, as Liam attempts a couple of combos. The height of his kicks is disappointing, though.

"Better," he says. "But you need to bring your leg higher. You know how it goes."

Derek bends at the waist and demonstrates in slow motion a kick at belly level, draws back his feet and extends to the chest, then does it again for the head. Then he does it fast, barely making contact, one-two-three. He's got his back to the locker room door, but when he feels a tingling feeling at the nape level he instinctively knows that Stiles is watching him again. Derek does the move again and then gets in position for Liam.

"Your turn."

Liam is a good student, and he generally listens to instructions (apart from when he sees red in sparring and loses control, but they're working on that). He replicates the exercise almost perfectly, though a little low for the head. It's true that he's relatively short, but he has the potential to be better than that. Derek rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck because the sensation of being watched is still there, making him feel like prey. How a teenager's stare can manage this is baffling.

"A lot better, just reach higher. That's why you'll train with Isaac," Derek says, ignoring the unsettling feeling as much as he can. "Aiming for his head will make you better."

"Oh man, Isaac is like seven feet tall!" Liam complains.

"He's not," Derek says, rolling his eyes. "And even if he was, you go get him. Raise a hand, away from you. Higher."

Even as he prepares to do the kick, Derek knows that he's partly showing off for Stiles. He shouldn't, hates himself a little because it's petty, a desire to be admired and he's only going to feed the flames, but he does it all the same.

His 540 spinning roundhouse kick is perfectly executed, if he says so himself. Yes, it's a kamikaze move than more often than not can get you in trouble in combat, but it looks great and holds a tremendous amount of power.

Liam sure looks impressed, his blue eyes wide as saucers. "Whoa!"

"Practice your height and I'll show you," Derek promises. It should be incentive enough.

"Liam?"

It's Liam's stepfather, who is surprised that he isn't ready to go home. Derek gestures for Liam to go change and walks to his stepdad. On the way he meets Stiles' eyes for a second, who's still there, leaning against the wall, and there's something hungry in his gaze that sends a shiver down Derek's spine. Immediately Derek looks away, focuses on Liam's stepfather.

"Good evening, sir. I'm sorry, Liam will be right out," Derek says.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes, very much so. We'll be giving Liam extra training, if that's okay with you. He has a lot of talent," Derek explains. "Would it be more convenient for you before or after classes? He could also come on Saturday afternoons."

It looks like a happy surprise, judging by Liam stepfather's smile. "That's great! Can I get back to you on this?"

"Sure, no problem. Have a nice evening."

Liam's coming back, still in uniform but with his shoes and coat on. He's still bouncing with excitement as they exit.

"Did you see that kick?" he asks. "I'm going to learn it soon!"

Derek doesn't hear the reply as they are now outside, but then almost jumps out of his skin when there's a touch to his forearm. It's Stiles, who's suddenly right in his bubble, and Derek freezes.

"Very impressive," Stiles all but purrs. He's close, too close, and his fingers burn like a brand.

Derek cannot help it, he sways towards Stiles, who clearly picks on his interest by the way his smile widens. Before Derek can talk and possibly do something stupid like flirt back or even worse, the Sheriff walks in, looking annoyed.

"Stiles. I've been waiting for ten minutes!"

This gives Derek the impetus to step back, away from Stiles, breaking the contact.

"Just a second, Dad!"

"I have to go," Derek says and by some wonderful twist of fate Laura steps out of their office with a phone in hand.

"Derek, it's for you!" she shouts.

Derek hurries to her and grabs the phone – he could kiss her, he's so grateful for the excuse - throwing a wave over his shoulder at Stiles and his dad. He's clearly dodged that one, because he sees the Sheriff drag Stiles out before entering his office.

He's never been so glad to answer questions about a dobok order before.

***

Clearly, the stroke of good luck with the phone call was a fluke and the universe – that has something against him – eventually rights itself. Two weeks later, Erica takes Derek aside just before his evening class.

"I've talked with Laura and I'm going to switch three newbies to your class," she tells him.

It not common, but they do exchange people sometimes to keep groups of similar strength. They bump up the most gifted students from the beginner's class to intermediate to earn their belts, so they don't get bored. This helps them achieve their potential more rapidly.

"Okay, sure," he answers. Those students usually require more supervision because they didn't get all of the basics in Erica's class, but they are generally enthusiastic and determined. It always tickles the pride of those already in the intermediate class that had to work to get there. "Did you spot some tournament talent?"

Erica has a good eye to spot the diamonds in the rough.

"Lea, maybe. Twelve, stubborn as a mule, but always at 100 %," Erica says as they walk towards the dojang. "John's too old, but he did some kung-fu in the eighties and it shows. Stiles-"

Derek stops dead in his tracks. "Stiles?" he chokes out, blinking stupidly.

Erica tilts her head. "Stiles, yeah. He's not bad and he registered to spend time with his dad, so if we push John up…"

The 'oh shit oh shit oh shit' repetition that flashes in Derek's head must show on his face because Erica frowns. "Why the face?"

He can't admit that he's afraid of a guy who's flirting with him, or he'll never hear the end of it. Plus he's a goddamn professional, so he can do this. Derek steels himself and shakes his head.

"It's nothing. I don't know him much, but Stiles acted like a spoiled little brat when I met him."

Erica laughs. "He is a brat! But he's also a lot of fun. You'll either get along or end up trying to kill each other before long."

"That's what I'm afraid of." In part. "So bumping him up is your brilliant idea?"

"Laura's, mostly," Erica says with a shrug, and Derek silently curses his sister. "But I think he could be good for you," she adds with an elbow jab.

It's not even sarcastic; in fact, Erica's comment sounds even fond as if she has Derek's best interest at heart.

"Good for me?" he asks, aghast.

"Yeah," she says, with a playful smirk. "You need people who challenge you."

"Go to hell, Reyes," Derek says, pushing her away at his turn. "I've got my quota of challenging persons, thank you very much."

"Nah. You like it," she teases. "And speaking of the devil…"

Derek turns to see that yes, the Stilinskis are there. His heart lurches: Stiles seems to gets more attractive every time he sees him. Or maybe it's just the dobok. He's seen thousand of people in uniform over the years, but somehow Stiles manages to make it look sexy. It's how it showcases his forearms and hands, Derek thinks. Or the way it suits his wide shoulders and firm little ass. Derek shakes the thoughts and, as it has learned to do as a coping mechanism, avoids Stiles' stupid pretty face to focus on the Sheriff. He tries valiantly to smile.

"I've heard you will be joining my class."

The Sheriff stands visibly a little straighter, puffing up with pride. "That's what Erica told us. Not bad for an old man like me, if I say so myself."

"Not bad at all, Sheriff!" Erica says with a grin. "Derek will take good care of you."

"Is that so? I like the sound of that," Stiles says, biting his lower lip and looking mischievous.

Erica pouts. "It's like you won't even miss me."

"Ahhh, don't be like that!" Stiles says, pulling her into a hug. "We had a good run, you almost dislocated my shoulder and everything. I'll still see you around!"

Derek is a bit surprised at the familiarity, but he's even more distracted at the way Stiles' long arms loop around Erica easily.

"Yeah, don't be a stranger. And if you focus in class, we might even make a decent fighter out of you."

"You're asking a lot," the Sheriff chimes in, before hugging Erica at his turn. The Stiliniski hugs look fantastic; Derek is a little jealous. "It was great seeing you again, sweetheart. I am so proud of you."

"Thank you sir," she says in his shoulder. "For everything."

Erica's eyes are suspiciously shiny when she disengages and leaves for the locker rooms.

"So touching," Stiles says as a joke, but the face he's making is genuinely fond, so neither the Sheriff nor Derek call him on it. "So, Derek – " he starts, turning to him.

"I ask for my students to call me Sahbumnim," Derek says. It's true, but he kind of blurted it out and Stiles raises an eyebrow. "It's traditional for senior instructors…"

"And it means?" The Sheriff asks with interest.

Derek has to fight the blush and studiously avoids looking at Stiles. "Master."

"Ohhh, Master. I like it." He makes it sound dirty, what a surprise. "Sah bum nim?"

"Stiles, please," the Sheriff says, rubbing at his eyebrows as if a headache is building.

"Yes. We're late for the lesson, let's go," Derek says, doing an about face to go to the dojang. He loves teaching, and the familiarity of it should help him regain his footing.

He doesn't just have the Stilinskis to worry about - there's that young new girl and seven other students to train, after all. Derek leaves his flip-flops on the side of the mat, salutes the wall of honor and steps on the mats.

"Cha Ryut," he calls, and everyone lines up, Stiles and his dad hurrying to reach the end of the line because of their white belts. Derek quickly inspects all of his students uniforms and fixes the knot on the Sheriff's belt because it's crooked and tells Stiles to do the same.

"Kyung Ret."

They all bow.

"Jog, clockwise," he orders, putting things in motion.

He can do this.

Then Stiles jogs by him with a playful smirk and suddenly Derek's not so sure.

**

Stiles' flirting is not as explicit as the day they met, at least in front of other people, but the looks and smiles are getting under Derek's skin. He makes "Sahbumnim" sound dirty every time he says it, so much that Derek almost breaks and beg for him to call him by his first name instead. Stiles also is, above everything, a sarcastic little shit, and unfortunately that seems to be Derek's kryptonite.

The first weekend after Stiles and his dad join his class, the school holds its bi-annual black belt promotion tests, followed by a board-breaking demonstration. The process of passing their four candidates for forms, sparring, one-step self-defense, breaking and with all of the theory that goes with those exams is long and stressful, even for the instructors who outwardly must not show any emotion during the proceedings. In the end, Derek is particularly proud that Isaac got his third Dan with very high marks. In fact, only Aiden will need re-testing because Kali, the external examiner, was particularly hard with the grading. The breaking demonstration that follows the exams is their way to celebrate, and as usual, it's very popular with students – black belt and below alike -, their families and the kids from the neighborhood.

Most of the wood board breaking demos are done by the examinees, with lots of glee in some cases, and Derek makes sure to remind them that they need to stay focused and concentrate on the technique to avoid injuries. Under Laura's guidance, Aiden channels all of his frustration into making splinters out of a whole lot of boards, which makes for a good show.

Soon it's time for the instructors to shine. Erica is first to go, breaking a stack of four boards with no peg. Derek loves how the little girls in the audience look awed. Erica follows it by several other breaks with boards held up by Isaac, Boyd and the beginners in her class strong enough to hold one securely, showcasing her great speed. Boyd follows, using his raw power to break cinderblocks. As always, it's a hit, generating impressed “oh's” and “ah's” from the audience.

Then it's the grand finale, and what everyone is waiting for. Over the years, Derek, Laura and Cora put together an acrobatic board-breaking routine. Cora is out of the country for an advanced training course, but Derek and Laura planned something big at the end that should not disappoint if they don't fuck it up. They've been doing the routine for years, starting when Laura was 12 years old and Derek 10, making it more elaborate every time. Cora joined them a couple of years later, and the Hale Siblings Breaking Routine is infamous in the California circuit. They go through it in perfect synchronicity, breaking boards with both hands and feet, interspaced with flips and other acrobatics.

They've been practicing their new finale for a month, now, and Derek feels the adrenaline pumping as they go through the routine and get closer to it. In the back of the dojang, Erica and Lea are back to back, holding a board at chest level and standing up on the shoulders of six of their strongest students. Just removed on each side are Boyd and Isaac, arms crossed in a way that will offer a foothold, and they both have one of the twins at their back to brace them. After the penultimate break of the routine that is right on the intended timing, Derek nods at Laura and they launch into the finale with an Aero Roundhouse kick. The move itself is challenging, but doing it exactly at the same time is what makes it great. They each run to their support person, Boyd being Derek's and Isaac being Laura’s, and leap on their crossed arms. Then, immediately after and aided by a upwards propulsion movement by Boyd and Isaac, they leap again to use the same foot in a roundhouse kick that breaks the board in Erica and Lea's hand before landing on the ground.

Derek knows they succeeded when he hears only one crack as the boards break. As they land on the mats the crowd goes wild. Derek holds his smile in until they have faced the audience and saluted, but then grins when Laura jumps in his arms.

"Fuck, yeah!" Laura says, laughing breathlessly. “That was awesome!”

They had it right most of the time in practice for the last two weeks, but doing it live with a crowd is always a challenge.

"I know!" he replies, before they're taken into a group hug from the rest of the gang, everyone whooping and bouncy.

"Thanks, guys!" Laura says, distributing high fives. She cackles and adds, "I can't wait to send a YouTube link to Cora. She’s going to be pissed she didn't get to do it, too."

Derek snort laughs. "Serves her right. Abandoning us for two months in Korea."

The show always ends with their demo, and there's a table on the side of the room with cupcakes and refreshments. Derek watches fondly as Erica, Boyd and Isaac each try to fit a whole pastry in their mouths when he hears Stiles. He probably had arrived late because Derek hadn't noticed him before the show, which was good news at the time because it meant one less distraction. It seems he saw the demo anyway, because he's gesturing enthusiastically as he talks.

"I swear, I almost stopped breathing. It was spectacular!" he says. "Have you guys ever thought about making people pay for shows?"

Laura laughs but Derek speaks up, annoyed. "We're a Taekwondo school, not the circus."

"I’m telling you," Stiles adds, not chastised the lightest. "People would pay good money to see you show off raw power like that on top of being all bendy. I couldn't take my eyes off of you."

He's doing the intense staring again, and by reflex Derek starts to blush; horribly inconvenient when Laura is right there, watching them interact with steadily rising eyebrows.

"When do you not," Derek grumbles, looking around for an excuse to extricate himself from the conversation. He finds it in a kid who has started to climb the ropes unsupervised. "Bye, Stiles, see you in class," he adds before he bolts.

Running away from the situation is becoming a pattern, and if it makes him a coward so be it.

**

It's not the first time that a student flirts with Derek in class. Laura once said, totally disgusted, that she had heard that a group of girls had registered because they saw a demo and found him hot. Over the years Derek had several cases of unwanted attention, pretty much all of the teachers have. Also, it's true, he had flirted back a couple of times when it was harmless and must admit to two probably unadvised hookups when he was younger and didn't know better. But Derek never has been in a situation where he wants a student who is actively pursuing him, but he just can't.

The worst thing about having Stiles as a student isn't the stupid innuendos or the flirtatious smiles but the unavoidable physical contact. Derek has always been a hands-on teacher, either to show a technique or to correct the execution. It's inevitable in his job. Taekwondo implies that at one point there will be self-defense with grabs and throwing techniques that often requires close contact.

Derek does try to limit doing holds – or being held, that's torture – with Stiles, but he can't avoid them completely because it would stand out too much. In fact, his Monday and Thursday lessons are a constant balancing act in ignoring Stiles as much as possible while making sure he treats him as equally as he can. (It’s complicated. It might even be a science by this point.) Since Stiles is with his dad, Derek shamelessly takes advantage of that fact to demonstrate the technique with the Sheriff before asking Stiles to do it and just correcting his posture. The key seems to be quick touches, focusing on the basics, and more verbal commands than Derek usually uses.

But once in a while, he does needs to touch. Today they are practicing how to break a hold, with a technique that ends up with the "grabber" having his arm twisted behind his back. The Sheriff is pretty great at it, probably because he has to use something similar in his job from time to time.

"Very good," Derek praises when he has Stiles in a lock.

"Yup, Pops, got me."

"You're not much more than a twig, though," the Sheriff teases.

"Hey, that's not true!" Stiles says, rubbing his shoulder as he's released. "I’m just slender."

"It works on everyone, small or big," Derek says. "I don't teach it at this level, to avoid injuries, but there's a way to give it an extra oomph. But since you're a cop…"

It makes sense to show the Sheriff, as he might have to use more force with drugged people or violent criminals.

"Oh?" the Sheriff says, obviously interested.

And that's how Derek ends up using Stiles for the demo. He gestures for him to start the movement as shown before.

"Grab me."

Stiles grins. "I've had dreams that-"

"Stiles!" the Sheriff interrupts briskly as Derek feels his ears go red. "Excuse him; I swear I raised him better than that."

"Sorry, sorry, it was too easy," Stiles says, though he doesn't seem sorry at all. "Here I go, grabbing you, and ow! Ow!"

He yelps when Derek twists his wrist and positions the arm in just the right way to almost take it out of the shoulder socket.

"Don't move," Derek urges, putting his other hand on Stiles' shoulder to immobilize him, as he doesn’t want to hurt him. "Do you see the angle I'm using, Sheriff? Just twist a little more and bring it up just so."

By necessity they are close to each other, Derek's front to Stiles' back as he holds him in the lock. It's not for long, just the time for his father to examine the position, but then Stiles pushes slightly back, his ass brushing Derek’s groin in a move that is not innocent at all. It takes all of Derek’s self-control to not jerk Stiles' arm higher in surprise, which would have been extremely painful. Still, the suggestion the move implies makes a surge of lust shoot through Derek and he squeezes Stiles' neck in warning.

"I told you to hold still," Derek says near his ear before releasing him altogether.

The smirk Stiles gives him clearly shows that he knows exactly what he's doing and how it's affecting Derek.

"I've always had problems with that concept."

"Sadly true," the Sheriff says and Derek comes back to his senses. For a moment there he was in a bubble with Stiles alone.

"Your turn, Sheriff," Derek says with a smirk of his own. "Try not to dislocate his shoulder. You'll keep still, this time, won't you?”

Stiles eyes widen. "Yes! Careful, Dad, okay? You know I need my right arm for lots and lots of crucial things!"

And great, now Derek is assaulted by a vivid fantasy of Stiles jerking off. He just cannot win, ever.

**

Maybe Stiles isn't as young as he seems, Derek thinks at one point. He never actually asked. He could be nineteen, maybe twenty, just with a terrible fashion sense. But those hopes are crushed when Derek overhears Liam ask Stiles about school after a class. Derek's out of view, putting the padding he just fixed in the locker.

"Hey, Stiles, about the lab report…"

Clutching straws with all that he has, Derek hopes that Stiles is training to be a teacher at the high school. That could be a thing, and now Liam who's a senior needs his help.

"What about it?"

"Are you finished?" Liam asks. "I'm stumped on the incertitude values for the results."

"Well yeah, I had all the time in the world to work on it in detention," Stiles says, crushing the little tendril of hope.

"I have no idea what you did to Harris, but I've never seen a teacher give someone detention so gleefully as he does it for you!"

"I know, right? I hate him so much."

And with the knowledge that Stiles is definitely still in high school, Derek decides this whole farce needs to stop. He'll set the record straight next time Stiles says or does something even slightly inappropriate.

Maybe they can overcome this. Stay friendly, because Stiles is a fun guy after all. There is a possibility, however small, that they can become friends with time. And who knows, in a couple of years when he has matured, maybe something could happen then.

Maybe.

**

Derek is climbing the ropes in the corner of the dojang with upper body strength alone, using a different rope for each hand. Once at the top, he releases his grip momentarily on the ropes so he falls a foot, grips again to stop the fall, releases once more for a foot, and continues in that fashion until he's back on the ground. He does it again, and once he's at his third rep his muscles are burning. Derek's coming back down for the last time when there's a slow appreciative whistle that almost throws his concentration. Of course it's Stiles. Derek finishes his exercise, seething.

"That was way, way hot," Stiles says.

Derek doesn’t even turn to glare as he puts back the top of his dobok.

"Please, don't dress on my account."

They are alone in the dojang, and it seems that Stiles decided it was a good opportunity to go all out.

"What do you want?" Derek asks, as he turns around. It's more aggressive than he usually allows himself when confronted with Stiles' flirting.

Stiles looks genuinely shocked at Derek's tone, eyes wide and mouth agape.

Derek points to the ropes. "I had my back to you, you almost startled me enough to lose my grip."

"Whoa, sorry!" Stiles says, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "It seemed like you had it under control."

For a second Derek is distracted, because Stiles has cut his hair and is dressed differently today, no graphic t-shirt or flannel in sight, just nice jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. But now's not the time to dwell on how good he looks; Derek has a plan to end this. This is a great opportunity, and he must not blow it. Derek uses a hand to cover his eyes, and the tip of his thumb and middle fingers to rub his temples. He's got to keep his temper in check, remain professional. He takes a deep breath and lets the anger go.

"I shouldn't have snapped, sorry," he apologizes. "Adrenaline spike."

"No, it's fine. My fault," Stiles says, tentatively smiling again.

It's only then that Derek realizes that it's the middle of the day and Stiles should be in school.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood and I thought I'd drop by and say hi!" he says, flirting again and enough is enough, Derek cannot stand it anymore.

"Listen, Stiles," he starts hoping he won't antagonize the guy, because he genuinely likes him. "You've got to stop."

Stiles frowns, growing serious. "Stop?"

"You know, the flirting," Derek says, ears burning with unease. "You keep hitting on me and-" he was planning go with the truth, which is that it makes him uncomfortable, but instead, for no reason that makes sense, he blurts. "- I have a girlfriend."

It's the coward's way out, but it seems to have the intended result because Stiles immediately looks mortified.

"Shit. But I asked Erica…" Erica? What the ever-loving hell, Derek can't believe she talked with Stiles about him. Derek has a clear vision of strangling her. "I thought the grumpiness was just because you were shy because my dad was there, shit," Stiles says, combing a hand in his hair. He looks distressed and Derek is starting to feel like he's missing something. The genuine-looking remorse seems out of character compared to Stiles' attitude up until now.

"It's okay," Derek says. "But I'd appreciate if…" You'd stop, for my sanity he wants to say. But Stiles is way ahead of him and gets it without Derek needing to spell it out.

"Of course, of course. Jesus, you should have said something before."

"It wasn't that bad-" Derek says, but it was and it must show on his face because Stiles is getting progressively redder.

"I basically harassed you at every occasion," Stiles says. "Fuck. I'm going to kill Erica."

"Not if I do it first," Derek says with a small smile.

Stiles nods, trying to smile back, but he's shaking his head. "I can't believe I thought for a moment that..." he gestures between the two of them, implying he thought there was a possibility. Frankly, at this point Derek thought that he was just trying to rile him up, not that he was actually interested.

"I do like you," Derek confesses. He'll never ever talk about how much he does, how much he's wanted, but that's the truth and maybe Stiles will feel better knowing it, even though rejection always stings. "Just –"

"Just not like that, I get it. Oh my god, this is like junior high all over again."

"If things were different," Derek starts to say but Stiles raises a hand.

"Stop, please stop. This is embarrassing enough without the 'it's not you, it's me'"

But it is all on me, Derek wants to say.

"I've got to go, anyway," Stiles says, already walking backwards towards the door. "Bye, Derek, sorry again."

"See you tomorrow."

***

As Derek thought, the fist class they have after their talk is extremely awkward. He hates it.

Stiles barely look his way, and the constant commentary is gone. It's as if Stiles has been replaced by a pod person. He does the exercises asked without a peep, and it's so out of character that Derek's not the only one who notices.

"Are you okay?" the Sheriff asks Stiles with a worried frown.

"Sure, yeah. Why?" Stiles' fake nonchalance is not convincing at all.

"You're very quiet," explains the Sheriff.

"It happens!" Stiles protests.

The Sheriff makes a face.

"Are you saying that I can't shut up?" asks an incredulous Stiles.

"I wondered if it was about –"

"No, no," Stiles says immediately. "By the way, I called the hospital, he's made it."

Derek shouldn't eavesdrop, but he's curious. He wonders what they are taking about. There's someone they know at the hospital? It sounds serious.

"Good, good. Are you sure you're okay?"

Stiles nods but also glances at Derek, who almost gets caught staring. So he's right: whatever made Stiles this quiet has to do with their situation, and it's not just about something that sent someone to the hospital.

"I'm fine. Everything is going to be okay."

Derek hopes so.

**

He's pondering about asking his mom if he could maybe fly to join Cora in Korea for the training course when Laura corners him in their office one evening.

"You are being weird lately. Weirder. Why?"

His sister isn't known for subtlety. The prying makes Derek defensive.

"I'm not, shut up."

Laura squints and points at him. "See? That's weird. You've been short-tempered a lot lately. You almost never smile. Did you have a nasty break up, again? I didn't know you were seeing someone."

Derek rolls his eyes. "You know I haven't been seeing anyone." Not since things ended with Jennifer, roughly six months ago, and hadn't that been a relapse into bad relationships after the relatively drama-free Braeden interlude. "Which is none of your business, by the way."

"Then what has your panties in a twist?"

"People that constantly nag at me." He sighs. "I'm exhausted."

Which is true, mentally at least. He shouldn't have confessed to that because Laura is instantly worried.

"Are you sick?" She feels his forehead. "You're not hot. But know we can't afford to spread germs to the students."

"I'm fine!"

"No, no, you're not. Even since you were a kid you never, ever wanted to admit any weakness, and you just did. You do look tired." Laura looks genuinely concerned.

"Maybe I need a vacation."

She throws her hands in the air. "So we've been telling you for years! Okay, that's it. You are taking time off."

"Laura, I don't need to-"

"You do. I'll talk to mom. Erica and I will cover your classes and Boyd will replace her with the kids; they love him."

They do, especially when at the end of classes he allows them to climb all over him as if he's a jungle gym.

"Okay, fine," Derek capitulates. Maybe he does need a break to clear his head.

Laura smiles. "Good. Everything is going to be all right, Boo. Take a couple of weeks, decompress, have fun. Get laid."

Derek rolls his eyes. "God, you're annoying."

It's not bad advice, but he's not there, at all. He doesn't want a hook up with a stranger, even to take a lanky teenager out of his head.

"I'm not; I'm always right," Laura says with a wink.

"Yeah, right," Derek says, but he squeezes back gratefully when Laura brings him into a bear hug.

**

Derek didn't think this whole vacation idea through at all. He's voluntarily exiling himself from a job he loves because he turned down the overtures of a teenager. It's almost a new low (if we forget the exes from hell).

Erica calls one day when Derek's so out of his mind with boredom, he jumps on the phone as soon as it rings.

"Why didn't you tell me you were seeing someone?" Erica asks, sounding pissed.

"Are you seriously starting the conversation like this?" Derek replies. "Jesus, Erica, you told Stiles I was single? What the hell?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't think it would be a big deal!" She hisses.

"You clearly didn't think that one through," Derek says.

There's a long silence. The fact that Erica doesn't immediately argue that she was in the right means that she feels guilty.

"Are you okay?" she finally asks.

"Yes, I'm fine!"

"I'm covering half of your classes, Derek. Something must be going on!" Erica argues.

Even though she drives Derek crazy some times, Erica is a good friend. She deserves at least part of the truth.

"I needed a vacation, that's all." Derek wonders if he sounds as exhausted as he feels. There's another silence.

"Is it because of what happened with Stiles?"

"Let it go, Erica."

"Wow. I honestly… I thought… he's fun, he seemed curious about you. I thought you'd have fun with a little flirting, no harm done. I didn't mean-"

"I told you, I'm fine. I was overdue for vacation," Derek says, gentling his tone. He hates that she sort of threw him under the bus when encouraging Stiles to flirt with him, but she'd never be malicious.

"I'm not even sure that you know what vacations are for, anyway," Erica teases.

"You're just pissed because you have to work on Thursday nights. Sorry to mess up date night."

Thursday nights are the infamous Boyd-Reyes date nights and he's heard way TMI every Fridays not to tease right back.

"It's fine. How long will you take?"

"I'm not sure yet. I'll be back soon." Probably sooner than he should.

"Take care, okay?" Erica says. "I miss you already."

Derek smiles. "I will, thanks. But I don't miss you."

"Asshole," she says, hanging up, but he could hear the smile in her voice so it's fine.

**

Sleeping in was nice all of two mornings. Derek feels old and boring, because he realizes that he's got a routine and he's lost without it. He would go run in the preserve, but he doesn't want to run into Stiles accidentally. Derek hasn't had a gym membership in years since he uses the school's equipment, but it's just impossible for him not to train. To compromise, he pushes his living room furniture out have space for poomsae – a more or less successful method to clear his head - and does way too many push-ups and sit-ups, which get boring pretty fast.

He also religiously avoids peeking through his window fifteen minutes before each of his classes because that would be pathetic.

To have at least the satisfaction of being productive, Derek starts cleaning. Soon enough he has washed the windows, scrubbed the floors, and his apartment sparkles in a way that it never has before. Derek briefly considers painting a couple of walls to make a change, any change, but he decides it would be going overboard, so he treats himself with a trip to the library. He picks up a couple of novels and a book on WWII, which he's actually looking forward to reading, so there's that.

Derek's waiting for his order at the mall's food court, checking the Facebook account that he has neglected for over a year, when there's an amused drawl.

"Do my eyes deceive me or is Derek Hale about to eat fast food?"

He smiles as he looks up and meets Braeden's eyes.

"Maybe, maybe not. I could be waiting for a salad," he says.

Of course that's the exact moment when the two big cheeseburgers and an order of fries are put on his tray, and Braeden laughs.

"Good try!" she says, coming over, and they hug before he gives her a kiss on the cheek.

Braeden is the exception in Derek's dating history, being the only girl that was more than a hookup with whom things didn't end ugly. They stopped dating when Braeden left town for an assignment with the US Marshals and they didn't think it was worth doing the long-distance thing. That was a couple of years ago, and they've kept in touch, even though infrequently. She's been back in town for six months, which is about when things were at their worst with Jennifer, but neither had reached out since.

"How are you?" Derek asks as he grabs his tray and goes to fill his glass (with water, there's a limit to what he'll subject his body to). "You look great."

Braeden's confidence has always made her extra-sexy, and she's turning eyes in the late afternoon with tight jeans and a black leather top.

"Well, thank you!" she smiles, preening a little. "Not looking too shabby yourself. I'm great, thanks. What about you?"

"On vacation right now," he says, and Braeden raises a disbelieving eyebrow.

"Vacations. You."

Derek rolls his eyes. "Yes, me. I'm not that bad, am I?"

"If it makes you feel better…" she teases.

"Did you eat?" Derek asks. He gestures to the not-so-impressive food court of the Beacon Hills shopping mall. "If not, I'm buying you lunch."

"Oh my, way to make a girl swoon, Hale!" Braeden says, but still takes him on his offer, heading to the sushi shop. She picks one of the pre-made boxes and an iced tea that Derek shells out for happily.

They sit down to eat, and as always, talking with Braden is easy. She complains about a dick FBI agent she has to work with, and Derek just lets her go, eating his burger. Braeden is even more beautiful than she was back when they were seeing each other, but apart from a certain fondness, he feels no romantic leaning. She's hot, so the thought of sex – it's been so long with just his hand – does cross his mind. She'd probably want to, but it doesn't feel like it would be the right time.

"So, what's up with you?" she asks.

He shrugs. "Nothing much." He's got a very boring life, when there is no work and no competition.

"No special someone?"

How crazy is it that for a second Stiles' face flashes before his eyes? He shakes his head. "No," he says, shredding his napkin.

There's a silence, and when he looks up Braeden has her head tilted to the side. "It's fine if you don't want to talk about it, but I can feel a lie when it's fed to me."

Derek scoffs, amused. She never lets him get away with shit, which makes for a great friend but used to annoy him so much sometimes. "Not a lie, I'm not seeing anyone."

"But?" she presses, because when she's on to something, she won't let go until she knows. It's one of the reasons she's such a competent Marshal.

He considers not answering, but on the other hand, maybe if Derek talks about it he'll get over the whole clusterfuck easier. "There's this guy, who just started training. He's just...." He pauses, at a loss to describe Stiles. "Infuriating. Very cute. Funny."

"Whoo, sounds like you have it bad. What's the problem? He's taken? Straight?"

"No, no, he's single. I think." Stiles must be single, he sounded way too embarrassed of having been inappropriate when hitting on someone being in a relationship; he'd never do it if he was in one himself. "He's interested in me. Physically."

"But you want more than that?" She looks sympathetic.

"Yeah."

"Then make him work for it. Be clear with him that you're not in it for sex, and if he's worthy he'll wait for you."

If only it was that simple.

"That's not the problem." Derek says with a big sigh.

Braeden looks intrigued. "Go on."

"Jailbait," he confesses.

She blinks, makes a sound. "Huh. How bad?"

Derek is suddenly horrified she'll think he's fixating on a little kid. "Not so bad! I mean I'm not even sure… I don't know, 17? 18? He's a junior," he hides his face in his hands, mortified. "God, I don't even know how old Stiles actually is. What if he's younger than that? I am an horrible person."

"Do I have to take you in for statutory rape?"

Derek looks up, aghast. "What? No! I'd never... Nothing happened. I didn't even flirt back when he kept hitting on me. And his father was right there."

She extends a hand to cuff him behind the head. "Get a grip, Hale, Jesus. I believe you. So you're telling me that Jailbait kept hitting on you, which you never acted on, but you went and developed feelings?"

It's a fair assessment. "Yeah."

"You're a mess."

Also true. "I know. I told him to stop whatever he was trying to do. And then I took some vacation so I could avoid him at the dojang."

Braeden points a finger at him. "Ha! I knew the vacation thing was fishy! But good god, Derek, taking vacation because you can't take the heat? I've been to your classes: I've seen students trying to flirt with you before. Hell, people come to you in bars, even if it's clear you're with someone. You get hit on all the time."

"Not all the time. But normally it's easy."

"When you are not interested back, you mean."

"Yeah. Stiles just..." has gotten under his skin. Changes the order of things.

"That's his name? Stiles?" Braeden asks.

"Nickname, even his father uses it."

"Weird. But then again, you've never been drawn to boring people, huh?" she asks with a wink.

Derek smirks. "The story of my life." He just wishes more of those people were nice, appropriate experiences.

"Come on, let's go grab a beer, drown your woes about your personal Lolita."

"It's not funny."

"It's a little bit funny."

"I don't know why I like you," Derek says.

"You like me because I'm awesome."

"Eh."

It's really early in the evening, but Braeden is not wrong. Derek doesn't care to get drunk, but a distraction would be welcome.

"Care for a couple of games of pool?" he asks.

"Sure! What about you follow me home so I leave my bike, then we go?" Braeden suggests.

"Sure," Derek says, standing up. "Lead the way."

Soon enough he's got Braeden in the passenger seat, fiddling with the radio. Derek is glad that they ran into each other because it's nice to finally do something instead of looking at the clock and wondering what he would be doing in the dojang. He's distracted and not quite paying attention to the road when there's a whoop and the flashes of a police cruiser. Derek looks at the speedometer and curses: he was a good 10 mph over the limit, in a residential area. The police tend not to give chances to people driving Camaros. He pulls over on the side of the street while Braeden holds in a smirk, the vixen.

"Like I needed that," Derek grumbles, getting his insurance, registration papers and driver's license out of his wallet.

"I'm going to take care of it," Braeden says, getting her badge out. Maybe she can convince the cop to wave it off.

"Thanks."

"Loser."

Rolling his eyes, Derek opens his window as the cop strolls up to it.

"In a hurry tonight, are we?" the cop says as he bends over to look in the car. His tone is friendly more than scolding, though.

Derek experiences a moment of cognitive dissonance when Stiles' face is the one that is revealed. Stiles with his new haircut and a BHPD uniform, whose smile freezes when he recognizes Derek at his turn.

"Wha-?" Derek manages, a sound more than a question, and Stiles gulps.

"Oh, hey. Derek!" he says, overly cheerful though it's clear he's uncomfortable. Then his eyes jump to Braeden and Derek can see Stiles' fingers gripping the top of the door. He's just as shaken as Derek from this impromptu meeting.

"Stiles?" Okay, so the question is stupid; it's visibly Stiles. Who is in a cop uniform. With a nametag saying 'Stilinski', and his own patrol car.

"Whoa, what?" Braeden asks, suddenly bending over the console into Derek's space to better look out of the window, too. "You're Stiles?" She's got a look of unholy glee on her face, and Derek pushes her back in her seat with a hand on her forehead.

"Shut up, god."

Stiles rears back as if burned. "Oh fuck," he says under his breath. "Hey, look, I've got to go!" he adds, again with the fake casualness. "Be careful with the speeding, okay? I was only going to give you a warning, anyway, so consider yourself warned!"

There's nothing more to do but to watch him flee, because frankly, Derek is still stunned. And Braeden is cackling in the passenger seat.

"Oh my god, that's priceless. Derek, honey, I'm pretty sure that your little Stiles isn't as jailbait as you thought."

"He's a cop!" Derek says, eyes round. A cop needs to have finished high school, and for sure must be over 18. Derek's not sure about the rest, but he surely went through some sort of police academy at the bare minimum.

"Yes, he is. Clearly over the age of consent!" She's having way too much fun with this. "He's pretty, baby-faced a little, but you really thought he was seventeen? He looked around 20 years old to me."

"It's the uniform," Derek says, mentally sidetracked for a second. God, Stiles looked great in that uniform.

"I know that face; get out of the gutter," Braeden says, hitting his arm. "So hot cop was hitting on you, and you liked him back. What are you going to do about it now?"

There's a war going on in his chest between total nerves and almost hope.

"I need to talk to him?"

What a mess. Derek hopes this is salvageable and not permanently in awkward territory.

"Yes, Derek, you need to talk to him."

"Tomorrow, he has a class. I'll go to the dojang, see him there." Derek's tone is way more assured than he feels.

"Atta boy!"

"What do I say?" Derek suddenly and preemptively panics. He's bad at conversations that involve feelings and misunderstandings. He comes out way too intense, and everything gets jumbled up. What if he drives Stiles away for good by exposing what a weirdo he's been?

"Let's go shoot some pool," Braeden says, tone still a little mocking. "We'll make a game plan."

Derek groans. "Now you sound like Laura, geez."

"I'll take it as a compliment!"

Derek squints. "But you hated each other?"

"She was overly protective of you; it got on my nerves. But she gets shit done, I can't take that away from her. How's she, by the way?"

"She's good, same as always. Why?"

"Maybe I should drop by your school," Braeden says. "Now that I'm not screwing her precious baby brother we might get along."

"No. Absolutely not. I do not need everyone I know being buddy-buddy with my sister, no way," Derek protests.

"Untwist your panties, for god's sake."

Derek starts the car. "If you talk to Laura I won't update you about the Stiles situation."

Braeden immediately sees the benefit implied. "Meaning that you will if I don't talk to her?"

"It's the least I can do if you help me figure out a way to fix this." Derek can play cute, when the need arises.

"You've got a deal." Braeden says. "Hey Derek," she adds.

"What?"

"At least you didn't get a speeding ticket," she says.

There's that.

**

Derek doesn't want to talk to his sister – or Erica – at least not yet. Living in the apartment building on the other street of the school is now extremely convenient. Derek stays in his kitchen, eyes on the window, and waits until the Stilinskis arrive and then checks his watch. He figures that if he gives them seven minutes, they'll have time to change and then he'll go in. It should coincide with the start of the class, which suits Derek just fine.

For once in Derek's life, things go according to plan (for this part of it, at least). Just as Derek enters at the school and walks to the locker room, Stiles and his dad are getting out and going to the dojang for the salute. Without breaking stride, Derek grips Stiles' arm over the elbow and nods to the Sheriff.

"Just borrowing him a second," Derek says to John with a smile. "He'll be right out for the class."

"Whaaaa-?" Stiles says, eyes round, but he's walking along, so it will do.

"Oh geez. What did you do again?" the Sheriff asks, looking as if it's no surprise at all.

"Nothing!" both Stiles and Derek say.

"I just need to talk to Stiles," Derek adds. "It won't take long."

Once in the locker room, Derek drops Stiles' arm and sees with satisfaction that they are alone.

"What the hell?" Stiles exclaims.

"Sorry about that, but we need to talk-"

"So you say," Stiles states. "Which is a bit surprising because I was under the impression that you abandoned your classes to avoid me."

"Well yes, but that was before-

"Yes? Wow. I hoped I was wrong about that. No wonder you even told your girlfriend about me. Which is totally humiliating, I won't lie: 'Honey, you should see the moron at work that keeps hitting on me; it's pathetic.'"

Derek scowls. "It wasn't like that. Anyway, Braeden, the girl in the car, she isn't my girlfriend."

"You broke up?

"Two years ago. I don't have a girlfriend," Derek says.

Stiles looks confused.

"But last week-"

"I lied. I'm sorry," he apologizes.

"Why?"

"I wanted you to stop," Derek says. "It seemed easier to say I had a girlfriend."

"Just saying you weren't interested would have worked," Stiles says, growing annoyed.

There is no good way to explain himself other than to tell the truth. "But I was interested. I am interested."

Stiles looks adorably confused. "I'm completely lost. What the hell is happening?"

"How old are you?" Derek asks.

"I'm twenty-two, but I don't see-"

God, twenty-two. All of this worry for nothing at all, Derek wants to hit his head on the lockers.

"You're twenty-two and a cop," he states, just to be absolutely sure.

"Yes." Stiles says slowly, as if Derek is a strange, strange person asking people questions that make no sense.

"But I distinctly heard you talking with Liam about chemistry. As you were taking the same class."

Stiles blinks. "Oh. OH." His eyes then light up with understanding. "You thought I was in high school?"

"Yes!"

He has the gall to laugh. "Oh my fucking god. Erica didn't tell you we went to school together?"

They what? He didn't get that crucial information at all.

"No! No one ever tells me anything!" Derek wants to scream in frustration. "But I don't understand…"

"In a way, I'm flattered," Stiles says, still grinning. "Because that was the goal. I just finished a sting operation to dismantle a student-run meth operation, all very 21 Jump Street , if you ask me."

"You had to pass as a student?"

"Exactly. Got picked to go in because I kept my youthful appearance," Stiles says, gesturing at his body and face. "Which the bouncers and barmen in town seem to agree with, by the way, because I get carded all the time. I came back in town after 3 years of college and the Police Academy so there was a very slim chance that anyone but the teachers in BHHS would remember me."

"Like Harris," Derek says, starting to get it.

Stiles shudder. "Harris was positively gleeful at the idea of making my life miserable again. In the sake of authenticity."

"So the hair, and the clothes-"

"To fit in." Stiles says, taking a step towards Derek.

"-and the bratty attitude-" Derek continues, holding his ground, heart ratcheting up as Stiles invades his personal space for the first time in a week.

"Oh, well, that's pretty much me," Stiles confesses with a shrug. He extends a hand towards Derek, trails a finger down his arm after starting at the shoulder. The touch is soft as a feather, but it makes goosebumps erupt in its wake, joined by butterflies in the stomach. "Is this okay?"

"Yes," Derek says, throat tight. For the first time since he's known the guy, Derek willingly reaches for him, puts a hand on his hip. They're close, and Derek sees Stiles' pupils expand, then is distracted by the way his pink tongue wets his lower lip.

"So you liked me, but thought I wasn't legal," Stiles says, looking at him under his lashes in the extremely distracting way that has been driving Derek completely nuts.

"Yeah," Derek says, sliding his arm around Stiles' waist to gather him closer.

"I knew you liked me, the way you'd react," Stiles says, hand sliding up Derek's back. He feels his cheeks heat up and Stiles smiles. "Yeah, like this. You blush surprisingly easily, big guy."

"Irish descent. It's a curse." Derek's always hated it.

"It's cute as hell, that's what it is," Stiles replies, delicately touching the apple of Derek's cheek with the tips of his fingers. "That's why I kept trying. It was clear you wanted me, but I just didn't get why it was so hard to have you flirt back."

"I couldn't. Not when I thought you were seventeen," Derek says. But now he can, and he slides his hands down to the curve of Stiles' ass. It feels even better than he thought, firm and round.

Stiles bends his head towards Derek's ear. "You're a good person."

Derek tilts his face until their lips almost touch. "I almost gave in. You're very enticing, Deputy."

Stiles laughs again, and Derek marvels at how gorgeous he is. "And me who thought I was losing my magic touch!"

He's curling a hand at Derek's nape, now, fingers carding in his hair.

"No, not losing it all," Derek breathes against his lips before closing the minuscule gap and finally kissing him.

It's a lot softer than Derek would have expected, considering the pent-up sexual tension that has been building between them for weeks. Stiles hums appreciatively, closing his arms around Derek's neck. It feels better than right, exquisite even, and Derek hasn't felt butterflies in his stomach like this for years.

The kiss escalates as soon as they open their mouth and their tongues touch, turning filthy in the blink of an eye. Derek twists them and crowds Stiles against the wall, kissing him deep and with all of the hunger he's been repressing for weeks. He's hard enough to pound nails, straining in his jeans and aching for contact. Stiles gives as good as he gets, and eagerly cooperates when Derek hikes one of his thighs up around his waist, enough to make himself at home and grind them together. It feels so good that Derek has to stop kissing Stiles for a moment, breath hitching against his mouth.

"Oh hell, yeah," Stiles murmurs. "That's more like it."

"You've been driving me nuts," Derek says, bending to taste the moles on Stiles' neck, hips thrusting in tight circles because he can't stop. Stiles is moving in counterpoint, just as hard in his dobok.

"You, too. I've been craving for you to pin me against the mats since day one, Sahbumnim." He's breathless, looks deliciously debauched and Derek has to force himself to slow down, or he'll come in his pants.

"We need to stop," Derek says, but instead of stepping away, he kisses Stiles again.

"What? Noooo!" Stiles whines when they end the kiss. He tries to pull his other thigh up around Derek's waist, but as tempting as the idea is, Derek manages to push it down.

"I want you, bad, but someone could come in any second," Derek explains, trying to shake the fog of lust that is addling his brain. There are kids in the next room, no lock on the door. His mother would KILL him if he got caught having sex in the lockers.

"Let's go in the bathroom. I want to blow you," Stiles says, and his lips are puffed and glossy, so hard to resist.

"We're not doing it for the first time in a toilet stall," Derek says.

"Do you have an office?"

Derek shakes his head. "Bad idea, I share it with Laura."

"Fuck. Then let's go. Your place, mine, the alley behind the school, a car, I don't give a damn. I'm not letting go of you until you've come, no way," Stiles declares.

"Jesus, you can't say things like that," Derek says.

"You bet I can. Where do you live?"

"Across the street."

"Like right across the street?"

Derek nods.

"Idiot, let's go.

Stiles has lost a flip-flop and doesn’t bother putting his socks on before shoving his feet in his sneakers. He doesn't even change out of the uniform, just takes his coat in a fist, and holds it before him.

"For cover," he says with a wink." It does mostly hide the tent in his dobok.

Derek looks down at himself and yeah, that he's aroused is totally obvious, the outline of his dick molded by his pants. "I don't have a coat."

"No, and you look absolutely sinful. Did you paint those jeans on, or what?" Stiles asks, reaching to cup him and Derek groans at the touch before batting Stiles' hand away.

"Stop it!"

"Fine, for the moment." Stiles says, but he un-tucks Derek's T-shirt from his pants. Derek's about to protest that it's counterproductive to getting out of here when Stiles tugs the hem of the T-shirt down, where it ends mid butt or so. It doesn't cover up everything, but it helps. "Just follow close to me; it's not that far until we can escape outside."

Stiles is turning to the door when Derek stops him, grips his head and pulls him into another deep kiss.

"Oh, fuck," Stiles says when Derek lets him go. He looks dazed, absolutely delicious. "What's the plan again?"

"My place, across the street."

"Right, let's go."

Stiles is reaching for the door when it almost hits him the face. He yelps and jumps back against Derek as Erica enters.

"There you are!" Her eyes slide to Derek, and Erica's eyebrows go up. "Oh, Derek. I had no idea you were here."

"Hey, Erica!" Stiles says, putting a little too much cheer in his tone to sound innocent. "Sorry, we've got to go."

"There's an emergency," Derek tries, though he knows they aren't fooling her at all.

Erica gives them both a good once over and doesn't seem impressed by the messy hair, reddened lips and the way Stiles is holding his jacket in front of his groin.

Especially when Stiles adds, "Yeah, something came up," admittedly with a straight face.

Derek drops his forehead on Stiles' shoulder in defeat for a second. What the hell is he thinking, getting involved with this brat?

Erica laughs. "Yeah, in your pants!"

Derek will deal with her teasing later, for now he's got something (someone) to do. He points at Erica's face.

"You and I, we'll have a conversation about information sharing."

"Oh hell, yes," Stiles says, adding a finger to the accusation. "You seriously compromised our happily ever after."

"What?" Erica asks, puzzled. "It's not my fault you guys are morons."

"Anyhoo," Stiles says, grabbing Derek's wrist. "We need to go. See you!"

"Skipping class?"

"Taking private lessons!" he says, and Derek follows as he's towed out of the locker room.

They need to pass by next to the dojang, and the students who are doing their stretches stop to watch them curiously. Which of course includes Stiles' father, and Derek can feel himself turning as red as a tomato.

"Bye, guys, see you next week, practice those forms everyone," Stiles says. "Don't wait for me, Pops, I'll get a lift back to my place."

"Need I remind you that your next shift starts at eleven?" the Sheriff says.

Really? It's past eight now, Derek had plans that went further than a couple of hours, dammit. When he looks at Stiles he sees that his face is falling, too.

"Oh, shit, yeah," Stiles says, and then slowly continues. "You know I insisted, many times, for no special treatment at the station, right?"

The Sheriff squints. "Yes?"

Stiles drops Derek's wrist to rub at the back of his neck. He also bites his lips and looks at his dad with a hangdog expression. "Just for this once… I mean, I'm not sure if I'll be okay to work at eleven. I feel something coming on."

Yes, it's official; Derek would like the floor to swallow him at the dramatic eye roll the Sheriff does at the pun.

"Jesus Christ on a pogo stick," John says, perfectly summing up Derek's feelings. "Parrish asked for more shifts, that's the only reason I'll give him a call. You're still scheduled for tomorrow night."

Stiles grins. "You're the best, daddy-o-mine."

"Don’t get me wrong, it's the first and last time I do this. No more favors, ever. You're still on for tomorrow night, no excuse."

"Yes, sir," Stiles says. "Thank you, sir, it's appreciated. Now, I'm sorry, group, but I need to go lie down."

"Get out of here," the Sheriff says, hiding his face in his hands. By then Derek has taken the initiative to push Stiles towards the door, before he dies of mortification.

"I can't believe I once thought it could be cool to be friends with you!" Liam shouts from the other side of the room, and Stiles laughs.

"I'm sorry to have deceived you, pretty boy!" he answers with a jaunty wave, though he's still holding a jacket in front of his groin. If Stiles is still tenting those dobok, he's a keeper. "Tah dah!"

"Be safe!" Erica yells, and that's it. Derek needs to get out, now.

Derek pushes Stiles to go faster towards the door when he sees Laura peek out of their office. "Go, go, go!"

"Derek?" Laura asks, but they are out of the door, and Derek has taken Stiles' hand, running across the street as Stiles laughs.

"Are we running away?"

"Yes!" Derek says, glad he hasn't locked up so he can pull Stiles in, then close the door and pull down the blinds. Laura is in the school's door, miming for Derek to call her when he's done banging Stiles (the pelvic thrusts make that very clear) followed by a double thumbs up.

"I am so reconsidering this," Derek grumbles.

She's going to be insufferable until she has pried details out of him, and he doesn't want to tell her anything. Whatever is about to happen with Stiles is his, dammit.

"I sure hope not," Stiles says, draping himself over Derek' back, breath hot against his neck. His hands go from holding Derek's hips to wrapping around his chest.

"No, not you; I'm pretty sure about you," Derek says. He covers Stiles' hands with his and cranes his neck back for a kiss.

"Excellent," Stiles says with a smile, and gives a peck. "I'm definitely into you, if you hadn't noticed."

"Good," Derek says. It's something he knew, with all of the flirting, but… "Then again, what do I know? Maybe you flirt with everyone."

Stiles pushes and prods until Derek turns in his arms and they are face to face to kiss again, quick but firm.

"Maybe I do that a little," Stiles says - which at least is honest - and Derek's stomach threatens to sink. "But I've been obsessed by only one guy lately."

"Yeah?"

"Uh huh. Very handsome, cute frowny face, killer abs, out of this word eyebrow game. A fighting machine, from what I heard, which is a total turn on. Nice guy, too, I can't wait to get to know him more."

It's a lot of praise, Derek doesn't quite know what to say. "Sounds promising?"

"Very. I just hope he likes Thai food, because I'm gonna ask him out for this Friday."

"It's a date," Derek says immediately and Stiles beams.

"Awesome!"

That is excellent. Sleeping with Stiles is great; Derek wants it badly, but dating him is even better. He senses that they could be good together, even though they are so different it should make things interesting. Also he's pretty sure Stiles is one of the good cops (or he's really shit out of luck, relationship wise).

Stiles leans in until they meet for another kiss. It goes from gentle to absolutely lewd very rapidly, and all of the blood that had gone to Derek's cheeks and ears in embarrassment at their exit suddenly goes back south. Now that there is no chance of getting caught, Derek grabs Stiles' ass, pulls him flush and grinds with intent. It feels so good, and it's been so long. There's insistent tugging on his shirt, and he relents, raises his arms for Stiles to pull it off. Derek works on Stiles' white belt and can't help the smirk.

"This knot wasn't correct, anyway."

"You perfectionist freak," Stiles says with a chuckle.

He starts on Derek's own buckle, in a hurry to get to his fly. The brush of Stiles fingers on the denim covering his hard-on feels fantastic.

"It's simple respect for the traditions," Derek says, throwing the belt away (he'll fold it correctly later). He pulls the dobok's top over Stiles' head next, and it soon sails the same way.

Stiles, as he expected, is absolutely gorgeous all over. Since Derek spent eight weeks avoiding looking at Stiles as much as he could, the reveal of lean but cut muscle definition is all the sweeter. As is the surprisingly dense treasure trail starting at Stiles' belly button, disappearing under his pants. The urge to nuzzle it is suddenly overwhelming and Derek goes to his knees, uncaring that Stiles didn't have time to unzip his pants. He can wait for that, if he gets to rid Stiles of the rest of his clothes now. He only had time to rub his cheek on that lovely belly when Stiles reaches for his face and makes him look up.

"It's not that I don't like your entryway, and the absolutely fabulous view you make right now, but how about we move to the bedroom?"

Derek nods. "I do have one of those."

He turns his head to kiss Stiles' wrist and gets up, and picks Stiles up as he goes, making him hook his legs around his waist. He's heavy, but Derek can take it. Stiles laughs and throws his arms around Derek's neck.

"Show off!"

"Are you complaining?" Derek says, mouthing at Stiles' throat as he walks towards his bedroom.

"Not at all. It seems that being manhandled does it for me." To prove his point, Stiles grinds his hard dick against Derek's belly. "Please continue, you sexy beast."

"As you wish," Derek says, now at the foot of his bed. He kneels on it and lowers Stiles on the mattress, presses him down with the weight of his body and claims his mouth once more.

He could kiss Stiles all night; can't get enough of that wicked tongue and greedy hands, caressing and groping from Derek's shoulders to his ass, always in movement. The bare skin of his chest feels fantastic, as does thrusting their sadly still clothed erections together. Stiles seems to resent the pants more than he does, because he tries once more to unzip Derek's pants and curses when it proves too difficult.

"Come on, come on," Stiles whines. "Off with those, I want them gone."

Derek smiles and starts by kneeling up and quickly takes the dobok pants off Stiles. He loves elastic waistbands. Stiles is in white boxer briefs that leave very little to the imagination with the way it outlines his hard dick.

"God. You're gorgeous," Derek says reverently, taking him all in. He looks superb on his bed, for sure.

"Focus, Derek!" Stiles protests with a couple of snaps of his fingers in Derek's face.

"Bossy," Derek says as he gets his pants and underwear off. Freeing his dick feels pretty great, and when he looks back at Stiles he's staring at it, mouth in a perfect little "O".

From his experience with other men, Derek would say he's average in size. He wonders if Stiles expected more, since Derek's a stereotypical jock with the fighting and the muscles. Derek doesn't have to worry for long because when Stiles speaks, it's with clear appreciation.

"How in God's Earth is it fair for us mortals that you're perfect everywhere?"

Derek scoffs. "Please."

Stiles is making grabby hands at him and with a smile Derek goes back to lie on him. It's indeed even better without pants, though there's still the barrier of Stiles' underwear.

"No, really," Stiles says. "Unfair."

"Shut up and kiss me," Derek answers, because even though it's flattering to know Stiles thinks he's hot, it's not that important right now.

After a couple more minutes of kissing and grinding, which is getting Derek worked up fast, Stiles pushes on one of his shoulders and pulls on the other arm until Derek takes the hint and rolls to his back.

"Yeah, just like that, let me see you properly," Stiles says, straddling Derek's thighs. His tight white briefs have a spot turned almost transparent at the head of his dick because of leaked pre-come. Derek's distracted from the view and the plans he's making to get his mouth on that to taste by the way Stiles reverently outlines every bump and ridge of Derek's torso, long fingers caressing the skin almost feather-like.

"I'm pretty sure you'd make Michelangelo weep with joy at the perfection of you," Stiles says. "I took one glimpse at you, and I was obsessed."

"I guess working out pays off," Derek says, shivering under the attention. He's always been proud of his body and of what it can accomplish, but usually being objectified feels a little creepy. Not now, though.

Stiles shakes his head. "Well working out can't produce a face like this. Your eyes, man, they're incredible."

It's too much, embarrassing even, especially since it sounds so genuine. Not knowing what to do to make it stop without looking like a blushing maiden, Derek plants a foot on the bed and flips Stiles right back on the mattress, a move made fluid by countless hours of training. He grins at Stiles' bewildered face.

"Working out, I tell you."

"Okay, that was hot. Do you have any idea how terribly amazing it was to watch you be all badass and strong? The roundhouse kicks are poetry in motion."

"I hated myself because I liked when you watched me as if you'd eat me up, given half a chance." Derek doesn't know why he confesses to it. They've had so many problems with miscommunication to get here, maybe laying it all on the table isn't a bad thing.

Stiles coos. "Aww, sorry my apparent underageness caused you angst."

"'Underageness' isn't even a word," Derek replies, rolling his eyes.

"But yeah. The only reason I didn't corner you in the locker room-" Stiles starts to say.

"Was because I avoided it like the plague when I knew you were there?" Derek completes.

"I knew that wasn't a coincidence!" Stiles exclaims. "Yes, that, but also because I was with my dad, and I think he caught up on my crush very early on and didn't leave my side."

"He didn't seem to have a problem with us earlier," Derek says. Christ, the man almost explicitly gave them his benediction to go have sex.

"Oh, no. He likes you, a lot. But he caught on that you were uncomfortable around me and he was doing damage control. He told me to cut it out several times."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I was hoping it was just you being gun shy? Erica told me you'd had a bad breakup or two."

Derek grimaces. "Understatement of the century.

As nice as it is to finally talk things out, they are losing their momentum. Derek surges to kiss Stiles again, grinds down hard before cursing that there is still fabric in the way. After quickly getting rid the damning underwear – to Stiles' vocal approval - they are right back on track. It's great, in fact, way better than that, but Derek wants this to last, make their first time memorable. So he slows down and focuses on making Stiles feel good, finding the way he prefers to be touched, the spots that make him moan the loudest - especially when he uses his teeth, as it turns out - how much Derek can tease him before Stiles swears like a sailor. How long it takes to have him beg for more than kisses.

"Please, Derek, please," he pants, pushing into Derek's touch.

Derek has no idea how long he's been worshipping Stiles’ whole body, but he feels like could do it for hours, days, even more than that. Right now he's holding Stiles against the bed, busy licking along his hipbone and enjoying every second, relishing the taste, texture and smell of his skin. Derek has kissed Stiles almost everywhere except from for where he wants it the most, his neglected cock having engorged and leaked so much it makes a small puddle matting that damning treasure trail.

"Tell me what you want," Derek asks, looking up Stiles' body, very proud to see how flushed and wild-eyed he is.

"You, you, please," Stiles pleads, oh so prettily.

"How?" Derek insists. "Whatever you want, I'll do it."

"Fuck me. I want you to fuck me," Stiles says, voice strained but sure.

Derek has focused on Stiles' pleasure so much that it put his own on the back burner, a mere constant ache between his legs. Stiles' words give his arousal a sudden jolt. Derek urgently wants to be buried balls deep in Stiles, feel him everywhere and lose the little of his mind he has left. He lets go of Stiles to lunge towards his bedside table, grabbing his lube and a strip of condoms.

"Hurry the fuck up, I'm dying here," Stiles says.

"Just a minute, we need to-" Derek stops talking, derailed at the way Stiles' ass feels around the lubed finger he just slid in. God, he's so smooth and hot inside, so perfect.

Stiles makes a delicious sound and moves into the touch, but it's tinted with frustration. "More, come on!"

There's no way Derek's rushing this part, though; he's going to stretch Stiles properly.

"Shush," Derek says, moving his finger in and out, thinking it's probably okay to put in two soon.

"Do not shush me," Stiles protests. Instead of pushing towards Derek's hand, he pulls away, bats Derek's wrist to the side and points to the bed. "On your back, come on. Hey hey hey, no scrunched eyebrows."

Derek can't help it, he loved having Stiles pliant under him, and he thought Stiles liked it too. It's uncanny how Stiles easily reads his moods already, because as soon as Derek does as he's asked, Stiles immediately leans in for a kiss, deep and sure.

"I love how thorough you are, really, it feels awesome," Stiles murmurs, before kissing him again. "But I can't take any more teasing, I want you too much. Okay?"

"I just wanted-"

Stiles runs his fingers in Derek's hair, gives him an Eskimo kiss filled with affection, and it calms his worries that Stiles just wants to get this over with. "We'll take all night another time, I promise. Deal?"

He nods and watches with rapt attention how Stiles, who is now straddling his thighs, sits up and squirts a whole lot of lube in his hands. His body is dotted with little pink marks and Derek caresses one on his side.

"A biter, huh? I like it," Stiles says with a wink, and Derek should probably not feel as good as he does that he marked Stiles all over.

"I barely grazed you."

"It's fine; I just bruise easily. They'll be gone by morning," Stiles says, rubbing his new slippery hands together. "Awww, don't pout!"

"Maybe I like you looking like this," Derek admits.

"Then you'll have to mark me again," Stiles says.

"I will." It's a promise he intends to keep. Maybe he'll give Stiles a good old hickey, stake a claim.

Those plans are derailed when Stiles grips his dick and Derek, who somehow didn't expect it, bucks up at the touch and almost unseats Stiles with the force of the movement. It surprises a laugh out of Stiles, who shifts a bit, widening the way he's kneeling for more balance.

No one has touched Derek since Jennifer – it's been a while - and he wonders if that's why the pleasure seems more intense than usual. Or maybe it's just because it's Stiles, whose fingers are strong and sure, the glide of them just perfect. Derek grabs the sheets, closing his eyes to focus on the sensation, unable to keep a deep moan inside.

"Yeah, that's it," Stiles coos. "I want to make you feel good, too."

"You do," Derek says, moving with Stiles, fucking his hand. "So good."

"I want you so bad," Stiles says, and when his breath hitches and Derek opens his eyes, he expected to see Stiles jacking off, too.

But no, Stiles' other arm is twisted behind his back, fingers in his ass. Derek bucks up once again and worries he's going to come because of the visual alone. Stiles looks as if he's on a mission, and Derek is impressed that he can coordinate stretching himself up with a pretty great hand job.

"Fuck. Stiles, God," he groans, letting go of the covers to caress Stiles' thighs. He wants to pull him in, fuck him stupid and never let him go.

Stiles must have grazed his own prostate because he shouts and his eyes roll back in his head for a second.

"Add a finger," Derek demands. He wants him ready now.

"I'm- I'm at four," Stiles admits, and Derek can't help but gape. Jesus, that was fast, maybe too much, though Stiles definitely doesn't seem uncomfortable or in pain. In fact, he's letting go of Derek's cock to grab the strip of condoms and pushes it in Derek's chest.

"Come on, come on. Too slippery, do it," he urges.

It's with slightly shaking hands that Derek complies, rolling down the rubber and adding more lube for good measure. Stiles keeps riding his own hand, the other down on the bed for support now, and Derek is afraid he might not last even getting totally in him.

"Okay, good, give it to me," Stiles says as soon as Derek is ready, taking his fingers out of his ass and scooting up until he's positioned over Derek's dick. He doesn't wait and immediately starts pushing down, engulfing Derek in tight heat quicker that seems prudent.

Derek tries to grip his hips to slow him down but Stiles protests. "I've got this; it's fine. Oh my god, this is so good."

It's phenomenal; the expression on Stiles' face alone – wanton, comfortable in his skin, enjoying the fuck out of this - is better than the best porn Derek has ever seen. The way that Stiles starts riding him with single-minded determination as soon as he's comfortable is mind blowing. It's a punishing rhythm, steady as a metronome, and Derek just hangs tight for the ride.

"You're amazing," he slurs at one point, and Stiles smirks sexily, gives him a wink.

"I know."

It makes Derek laugh and yeah, this is what sex should be all about - fun and unadulterated pleasure. He pulls Stiles down into a messy kiss, hindering a bit his motion, and it rapidly turns into panting in each other's mouth, too overwhelmed for much more. Derek grabs Stiles' ass, holds him steady and after finding a bit of purchase with his feet on the bed, he starts fucking him in earnest, hips snapping up in powerful short jabs.

Stiles' mouth falls open in a deep groan.

"Oh fuck, yeah. Harder, c'mon," he commands.

Derek is happy to oblige, pulling Stiles down towards him with every upstroke. He won't be able to keep this up for long; it's too good, his orgasm building up fast.

"Imma-" Derek slurs. "Not long, I-" He can't even talk, he’s too focused on moving, chasing his pleasure, wanting Stiles to come. "Stiles!"

"Yes, yes, just-" Stiles starts jerking off, and that's it, a couple of strokes in he tenses up. "Holy-" Stiles says before he loses it, tipping over as strands of come land high on Derek's stomach.

His body clenches around Derek's cock like a vise grip and almost immediately, Derek follows suit, throwing his head back as release hits him, too. It's like snapping a rubber band, pure pleasure shooting through his system. He can't help but pursue the aftershocks, fucking into Stiles a couple more time as the waves of sensation lose their intensity, but leave him tingling and exhausted.

Stiles collapses down on his chest, panting. His arms are almost as useless as noodles, but Derek manages to circle them around Stiles' back, holding him close. He couldn't care that they're both covered in sweat and come; he hasn't felt this good in years, if ever.

"Daaaaamn," Stiles slurs against his throat.

Derek grins, because he agrees with the sentiment wholeheartedly (that was a spectacular first time).

Stiles pokes Derek's cheek with a finger. "I can feel the smugness radiating."

"Uh huh," Derek hums, running his own hand up and down Stiles' back in a slow caress.

"It's okay. Well deserved."

"Says the guy who gave me the ride of a lifetime," Derek counters.

Stiles picks his head up, grins down at him. "Oh yeah?"

"Definitely," Derek says, leaning up for a kiss.

It's a slow one, full of contentment and feeling. Stiles sighs into it, and when he breaks the kiss he dismounts, holding the condom on Derek's now half hard dick. Losing the heat of Stiles' body is unpleasant, but after disposing of the condom and summarily wiping most of the mess with the discarded white boxer shorts, Stiles lies down and drapes himself across Derek's chest, cuddling up.

They just breathe for a while, their heart rates coming down as their bodies cool down. It's quiet and comfortable, and Derek's drifting away when Stiles mumbles.

"We could have been doing this for weeks. Weeks!"

Carding his fingers through Stiles' hair, Derek makes an agreeing sound.

"We're okay, now," he says. He sees a lot of sex in their future, starting right after a short nap.

"Weeks of mind-blowing orgasms, lost! So many blowjobs. You owe me."

Derek chuckles, amused. "I owe you? No way. I was the one tortured by your apparent underageness."

"See? Totally a word," Stiles says, picking his head up to smile at Derek. He looks impish and like the best kind of trouble.

"You're such a spoiled brat," Derek says with affection. He's pretty sure he's in love already.

"But you liiiiike me!" Stiles says, waggling his eyebrows in a ridiculous fashion.

"I do. So help me, god."

When Stiles makes a fist pump of victory, Derek flips him to his back and pins him down, relishing Stiles' delighted laughter at the move.

"Oh, Sahbumnim, you're so strong and manly!"

His eyes are sparking, and Derek has never, ever, seen someone more beautiful. Stiles' going to torture him in class still – even though in more pleasurable ways, for sure - of that Derek is convinced. But frankly? He's looking forward to it. He does tend to develop the strongest feelings for the people who challenge him the most.

"Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Stiles grins. "Make me."

(Derek does.)