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“You want to sell me off to Derek Hale?” Stiles stares at his dad across the table, convinced he must be mishearing what he’s saying.
“It’s a meeting,” his dad says, hand wrapped around his mug. “You don’t have to decide anything.”
“A meeting with the only eligible member of the most prominent werewolf family in California. A meeting with the only werewolf you ever had to put sanctions on.”
“Hey,” his dad snaps, narrowing his eyes at Stiles. “You know what happened to him.”
Stiles huffs, feeling like an asshole because he is one of the few people who knows just how Kate Argent wormed her way into the Hale compound, and using that as a reason to not meet with Derek is a dick move. He knows that. “Sorry, I just—I don’t even know Derek now.”
“You knew him when you were kids.”
“Great, so he thinks of me as the kid who peed in the sandpit.”
“You peed in the Hales’ sandpit?”
“That’s—” Stiles shakes his head and slumps further down in his chair, resigning himself to the inevitable. “When are we going to the Hales?”
“Tomorrow, so take a shower.”
“Your faith in me being an adult is overwhelming.”
“Love you too, kiddo,” his dad says, getting up from the table and running a hand over Stiles’ hair. “I’ve got to get to work. Try not to overthink this.”
Stiles makes a face at his dad’s back and calls a goodbye as the door closes. The Hales. Derek Hale. Derek who would shift and run around with Stiles in the grounds of the Hale compound; Derek who would answer all of Stiles’ questions about being a werewolf the best he could; Derek, who Stiles hasn’t seen since the fire. Stiles should’ve realised this was going to happen. His mom and Talia Hale used to joke about Derek and Stiles being married, but Stiles—after his mom died and the fire happened, everything changed.
At least, Stiles thought everything had changed. Now, he’s pretty sure he and Derek are two of the only people in town without a marriage on the cards and, fuck, he’s goddamn stupid for not realising this sooner.
Getting up from the kitchen table, Stiles starts to pace around, idly pulling things out of the fridge to make a sandwich, grabbing a bag of chips and tearing them open. He needs distractions, and since Scott is at dinner with Allison and her family, all he has is food and Netflix. If it was anyone but Derek, then maybe he’d be a little less anxious, but Derek knows him. Kind of. Used to know him. Stiles is pretty sure that makes this worse than if he was being promised to a stranger.
*
The Hale compound is huge. Stiles thinks it’s bigger than it was when he was a kid, which would make sense because he knows Laura and Cora have settled down with their partners on the compound. They were given the option to move into town, but both of them chose to stay. Stiles doesn’t know what he’d prefer if he had to make a decision like that; he knows that the Hales get a lot of unwanted attention in town, but being this secluded makes him feel antsy, like there’s an itch he can’t scratch right between his shoulderblades.
A knock on his car window makes him jump, and his heart rate doesn’t settle down until he looks up and sees his dad outside. “Jesus fuck,” Stiles mutters under his breath, opening the door. “Thanks for the premature heart attack, dad.”
“Funny. Come on, Talia said they’re out back.”
Stiles stumbles after his dad; there’s a low level of noise coming from the corner of the grounds that Stiles vaguely remembers as having a playset set up when he was a kid. When they reach the area, he notices that the playset is gone, replaced by a state of the art outdoor grilling system. Stiles catches himself scanning the small crowd for Derek, his brow furrowing when he doesn’t spot him.
“John,” Talia calls, walking over to them and greeting them with a smile. “I’m so glad you could both make it. Derek will be out soon.”
“Uh, okay,” Stiles says, sticking his hands in his jacket pockets. “Should I—”
“Cora’s over there,” Talia says gently, gesturing with a hand. “Why don’t you go and talk to her.”
Stiles takes the out Talia offers him, and heads over to where Cora’s sitting, tapping away on her phone. “Lydia not here?” he asks.
“Mom said no,” Cora responds, glancing up at him. “Thought you’d like the privacy.”
“Oh.” Sitting next to her, Stiles looks around and shrugs, taking in how few of the Hales’ extended pack are actually around. “Yeah, I guess so. Don’t think Lydia would say anything, though.”
“She wouldn’t, but mom wants it to be quiet, for Derek’s sake,” Cora says, putting her phone away and looking him over. “You seem nervous.”
“I’m being sold off to your brother,” Stiles says with a slight laugh. “Why on earth would I be nervous?”
“He remembers you, incase you were wondering,” Cora says, giving him a sly grin that Stiles recognises as being a Hale trait. “When mom said that it was you who Derek was being set up with, he went all quiet.”
“And that means he remembers me?”
Cora whacks him lightly on the leg. “Don’t be an ass. I caught him looking at photo albums the next day. From when you were kids. Trust me, he remembers you.”
Stiles nods to himself, a pleased warmth taking up residence in his chest as he wonders when exactly Derek will make an appearance. He doesn’t have to wait long, because when he looks over at the back entrance to the Hale house, Derek’s walking out and Stiles—he can’t take his eyes off him. It’s been years since he’s actually seen Derek; since the fire he’s only caught glimpses of him when Derek’s had to check in with the Sheriff and he—Derek’s grown up really hot. Stiles feels intensely creepy for thinking that, but he’s kind of thrown by Derek’s stubble and biceps.
“Stiles?” Cora nudges him with her elbow, an amused smile on her face. “Go talk to him.”
“I—really?”
“You’re here to meet him, right?”
“Yeah,” Stiles says, watching as Derek loiters by the drinks. “This is so weird.”
“It’s not going to get any less weird with both of you avoiding each other.”
Stiles shoots a glare at Cora before standing up; he brushes his hands over his shirt and takes a deep breath before walking over to Derek. “Are we gonna place a bet on who feels more awkward?” is the first thing he manages to say.
There’s a huff from Derek that could be a laugh, and Stiles takes the water bottle Derek hands him. “Maybe we should call it even,” Derek says, turning around to face Stiles. “Then we could move past it and get to the good parts.”
“The good parts?”
“Yeah,” Derek says, smiling at Stiles. “Going out on a date, for instance.”
And, okay, Stiles didn’t expect Derek to get to that quite so quickly. “Uh, I—a date?”
Derek’s face falls, and Stiles didn’t realise just how much a smile lit up Derek’s face until it vanished. “Oh. If you don’t want to—I should’ve known this wasn’t going to work.”
“Hey,” Stiles says, dropping the bottle on the ground and grabbing Derek’s sleeve when it looks like he’s going to start walking away. “I only found out about this yesterday, Derek. I haven’t even spoken to you since my mom—so this is—”
“I’m sorry,” Derek interrupts, staring at his feet. “For not being around. After what happened with your mom, and then the fire, I wasn’t, I couldn’t, see anyone. Not until the Sheriff said I could, and after he did, it was—”
“Difficult.”
“Yeah.”
Stiles looks at where he’s still holding on to Derek’s sleeve and takes a chance, circling his fingers around Derek’s wrist. “So, a date?” he says, grinning when Derek snaps his head up and fixes his gaze on Stiles.
“You still want to?”
“You were one of my best friends, Derek. Yeah, I still want to.” Stiles squeezes Derek’s wrist once before letting go, letting his hands dangle by his side. “I know where our parents want this to lead, and I don’t know what’s going to happen, but we can at least see how we work on a date. You won’t have rings in your pocket on this date, right?”
“I’m not desperate,” Derek says, smirking at Stiles and, yeah, that’s the Derek who Stiles remembers.
“I’m a catch, asshole.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Derek says, kneeling down and picking up Stiles’ dropped water bottle, offering it to Stiles with a wink.
Stiles takes the bottle and he feels like an idiot when his skin heats up in response to Derek’s fingers brushing over his. Coughing in an attempt to cover up his reaction, Stiles glances over at his dad, noting the way he’s very deliberately engaged in conversation with Talia and ignoring Stiles’ fumbling attempts to get to know Derek again. “Any hints about what we’ll do on our date?” he asks, leading Derek over to a bench by the tree he remembers falling out of when he was a kid.
“Do you mind if we don’t go into town? I’m not—it’s still difficult for me to be around too many people.”
“Are you offering to cook for me?”
“If that’s okay.”
Stiles knocks their knees together and smiles when Derek looks at him. “More than okay,” he says. “No one’s really cooked for me since my mom. I mean, Scott’s mom cooked for me, but not just for me. I, uh, I’d love it.”
“Good,” Derek says, a smile on his face that Stiles has never seen before. “Monday night? If you don’t already have plans?”
“I have a shift that day, so a home cooked meal with you sounds amazing.” Stiles twists around until he manages to wriggle his phone out of his pocket. “Here,” he says, handing it to Derek. “Put your number in.” Derek’s fingers fly across the screen and he hands it back to Stiles. Firing off a quick text to Derek, Stiles puts his phone away and looks over at Talia to see her flipping burgers. “I think the food is done,” Stiles says as he stands up, offering his hand to Derek. “Coming with?”
It’s a pleasant surprise when Derek takes his hand, and Stiles tries to hide a smile as they walk over to everyone else. Stiles doesn’t let go of Derek’s hand, even when his dad raises his eyebrows at him and Cora stifles a laugh.
“Grab yourself a bun if you want a burger, boys,” Talia says, nodding at the pre-sliced buns set out.
It’s cosy, but not in a strange way, and Stiles finds himself settling back into the way he felt when he was a kid hanging out at the compound. They’ve all got piles of food in front of them, and Cora’s discussing the training to become a deputy. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with your sister having a gun,” Stiles whispers to Derek, knowing that Cora can still hear him.
“But you’re okay with her having claws?”
Stiles bites into his burger and nods. “I know she knows how to use her claws,” he says after he’s swallowed. “A gun in her hands makes me nervous.”
“Hey,” Cora says, kicking Stiles in the shin. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here. Wait until your date for that.”
Derek glares at his sister. “We’re not going to be talking about you on our date.”
Stiles’ dad looks between them and reaches for his beer. “When is this date happening?”
“Dad,” Stiles groans, fiddling with his water bottle. “Come on.”
“What? I don’t get to know what’s happening in my son’s life?”
“Derek’s making me dinner on Monday, happy?”
His dad flashes a smile at him. “Ecstatic. Call me if you end up staying over.”
Stiles rolls his eyes and looks at Derek. “I swear my dad isn’t implying I put out on the first date, he’s just trying to embarrass me.”
Something in his face must amuse Derek because he laughs and brushes his fingers over Stiles’ cheek. “It’s cute when you’re embarrassed,” Derek says quietly.
Stiles’ mouth drops open, and he notices a slight red flush appearing on Derek’s cheeks. “I—okay,” he says eventually. He looks away from Derek to see his dad and Talia watching them with indulgent smiles. Staring down at his burger, Stiles starts to think that maybe being set up with someone he used to know isn’t that bad at all.
*
Work drags on Monday, and by the time he reaches the last hour Stiles is more than ready for whatever Derek has planned. Tapping his fingers along the counter, Stiles watches as one of his colleagues helps a kid pick out his first skateboard; he didn’t expect to be this anxious for his date with Derek especially after the initial re-meeting went better than Stiles ever expected. He doesn’t know all the details of what Derek went through after the fire—just things picked up from what his dad would say—but he knows it wasn’t good for Derek, and Stiles doesn’t want to push him to do things he’s not ready for.
“Hey,” Scott says, dropping a hat on the counter and knocking Stiles out of his thoughts. “What’re you doing tonight?”
“I have a date,” Stiles says as he rings up the hat.
“And this is how you tell me?” Scott clutches his chest dramatically and staggering backwards.
Stiles makes a face at Scott’s dramatics. “My dad set it up,” he says, taking the cash Scott hands over. “I didn’t want to talk about it until the first meeting went okay.”
“Are you gonna tell me who it is, or am I gonna have to guess?”
“Derek Hale,” Stiles says quickly, ignoring the shocked look on Scott’s face.
“Derek Hale who your dad put on sanctions?”
“Derek Hale who I knew when I was a kid,” Stiles says pointedly, handing Scott the bag with his cap in.
“Right, sorry.” Scott swings his bag back and forth. “So I’m guessing we don’t have an XBox date tonight, then?”
“Nope,” Stiles says, smirking at Scott. “Looks like I’m the one ditching you this time.”
“Yeah, yeah, just wait until you get to the meeting the family.”
“Kinda already did that.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Derek... he’s working on some things, so meeting up with his family there was easier for him.” Stiles taps the counter and shrugs. “I didn’t want to put him on edge before we even decided anything.”
“So it’s already a marriage thing?”
“It’s our first date,” Stiles says. “We haven’t spent time together since we were kids.”
“But you want it to be a marriage thing,” Scott says with a wide smile.
“It’s a set up with a dude I used to know, who I really want to get to know again,” Stiles says, gesturing for Scott to move out of the way for a new customer. Ringing up the wheels, Stiles glances over at Scott. “It might be a marriage thing, I don’t know yet. Can you not tell anyone until after I know where it’s going?”
“Dude, of course. I know I was lucky with Allison, I’m not gonna ruin this for you.”
Stiles finishes up with the customer and turns back to Scott. “Where are you going now?”
“Coffee with Allison, she’s got a family thing tonight.” Scott shifts the bag in his hand. “XBox tomorrow night?”
Stiles answers in the affirmative before Scott heads off, leaving Stiles to try and put his date out of his mind.
*
Derek’s driving a goddamn Camaro when he picks Stiles up, and when he gets in, Stiles swears he could live in it. He’s running his hands along the dash when he catches Derek with a small smile on his face.
“What?”
“You really love the car, don’t you?”
“It’s a really nice car,” Stiles says, feeling heat flush his cheeks. “So, what are you making me tonight?”
“It depends,” Derek says as they round the corner to the Hale compound.
“On what?” Stiles asks, frowning as Derek takes a side road “Hey, you missed the entrance.”
“There’s a private entrance to my house,” Derek says as he turns the car up a smaller path. “And dinner depends on how you feel about seafood.”
“As long as it’s cooked, I’m all for it. I tried sushi once and puked, it wasn’t pretty.” Stiles tilts his head, looking at the house as it comes into view. “How big is your place?” he asks, turning a bemused look at Derek. “It is just you living there, right?”
Switching the engine off, Derek’s hands squeeze the steering wheel. “It was built for, uh, if I have a family.”
“Oh.”
“It’s not—I don’t want to put pressure on you,” Derek says frustratedly. “I’m doing this all wrong.”
Stiles takes in Derek’s furrowed brow and impulsively reaches over, curling a hand over Derek’s hand and squeezing. “We both said no pressure, right? We said we’d see where it’ll go and that’s what we’re gonna do.”
They walk into the house and Stiles stops in the entrance, looking around. “Changed my mind,” he says. “I’m moving in now.”
“Stiles—”
“Your house is amazing.” Stiles walks further inside and takes in the simplicity of it; the framed art prints on the walls; how comfortable the couch looks; the bookshelves stuffed full. “Seriously, I’m moving in.” When he turns around to look at Derek, there’s a slight flush on his ears and Stiles is taken aback by how attractive Derek looks like that.
“You can, if you want,” Derek says, the corners of his mouth turning up. “Though you should probably try my food before you decide.”
Stiles nods, heading towards the bookcase. “Can I?”
“Of course. I’m going to get dinner started.”
Dragging his fingers over the spines of the books, Stiles hums to himself as he reads the titles. There’s soft clanking coming from the kitchen as Derek moves things around and Stiles is already feeling at home; the scent of the house is familiar, there’s no excessive noise coming from outside, and Stiles feels like he could curl up on the couch with a book while Derek cooks and it wouldn’t be weird. Working on that assumption, Stiles pulls out a battered copy of Choke and makes his way over to the couch, kicking his shoes off and pulling his legs up.
He gets lost in Palahnuik’s words, and before he realises, the house has been filled with a light, spicy scent that makes his stomach rumble. “What’re you making?” Stiles asks, closing the book and putting it on the coffee table.
“Blackened salmon with spicy rice,” Derek answers, dishing it up. “If you want a drink, check the fridge. There’s not much, but there’s water if you don’t like anything I have.”
There’s a selection of sodas, but Stiles wrinkles his nose and chooses to go with water. He carries two glasses over to the table and sets them down by the plates.
“Sit,” Derek says as he joins Stiles at the table. “I hope you like it.”
Stiles returns Derek’s smile and reaches for his fork, breaking off a piece of the salmon. “Holy shit, Derek, this is awesome,” he says after he swallows. “When did you learn to cook?”
“During sanctions,” Derek says quietly, dragging his fork through the rice on his plate. “There’s not much to do when you’re banned from going out unaccompanied, so I thought cooking would be a useful skill.”
“For when you’re a housewife?” Stiles grins at Derek, trying to lighten the mood.
“Are you saying I wouldn’t look good in a frilly apron?”
Raising his eyebrows, Stiles takes a sip of his water. “That’s quite an image. Something else you picked up when you were on sanctions?”
“I did have a lot of time on my hands.”
“That’s a—”
“I’m joking, Stiles. No crossdressing.”
Stiles flashes a quick grin at Derek before stuff a forkful of food in his mouth. “Is it weird?” he asks after swallowing. “That my dad was the one who put you on sanctions?”
“It’s his job,” Derek says, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I understood that when he did it.”
“I thought, maybe, with this being set up that you might not—”
“I don’t hold a grudge, Stiles.” Derek puts his fork down and rests his hands on the table, fingers making minute circles on the grain of the wood. “How much do you know about what happened?”
Stiles pushes the remains of his rice to the side and lays down his cutlery. “Not much. My dad told me some, but not details.”
“Do you want—” Derek cuts himself off and glances at Stiles. “If you want to know then I—if we’re going to do this, then it’s something you should know.”
“Derek, I don’t need you to tell me. If you want to, then okay, but it’s not something you have to do if this, between us, is going to happen.” Reaching over, Stiles brushes the back of Derek’s right hand. “You went through some shit, but you’re still the guy who used to chase me around the yard and let me win.”
The corners of Derek’s mouth curl up and he laughs. “You remember that?”
“C’mon, Cora was so mad that you never let her win, but always let me win.”
“She’s a werewolf,” Derek says with a shrug. “You’re human. She just wasn’t trying hard enough.”
Something in Stiles’ stomach settles at that and he pats Derek’s hand before pushing his chair back and standing up. “If we’re going to get into heavy topics, then the couch seems like a better place for it.”
The way they settle on the couch is almost too easy; Derek automatically curls an arm around Stiles’ shoulders, tugging him close, and Stiles goes with it, knowing how much wolves crave touch.
He can feel the rise and fall of Derek’s chest as Derek takes a few deep breaths before he starts to talk, and it makes Stiles ache, wanting to tell Derek that it doesn’t matter, that he doesn’t have to talk about it. Instead, he waits.
“You know about Kate, and what happened with—”
“I know she went after you, used you to get into the compound, and that your mom found out before Kate could do anything.”
“That’s... accurate. I shifted into my wolf the day after it happened and didn’t shift back for, uh, close to six months.”
“Holy shit.”
There’s a low chuckle from Derek that rumbles in his chest. “Yeah. We’re not meant to stay in one form like that for so long. It can leave us trapped forever. I was lucky not to be trapped, but when I came out of it, I was close to feral.”
“Is that when your mom called my dad in?”
“She tried to help me herself at first. Sat with me when I wouldn’t leave my room; brought me raw meat to chew on, and she even shifted to join me when I wouldn’t come out of my wolf form.”
Stiles presses his palm against Derek’s stomach lightly. “How long?”
“Almost two months. When I was finally spending more time in human form than in wolf form, she called your dad.”
“And that’s when he put sanctions on you,” Stiles says, lightly tapping his fingers against Derek’s stomach. “I’ve never—he’s never said what happens. I know that there are stages, and that you have to get to a point where you can go out unaccompanied, but—”
“It’s hard. I don’t really remember much from when I was, well, lost is what your dad called it. It’s mostly flashes.” Derek’s voice is soft, and if Stiles weren’t tucked underneath Derek’s arm, he’s sure that he’d miss most of what he’s saying. “It got a little clearer after my mom called your dad in. I had to relearn things. Wasn’t a big fan of pants,” Derek says wryly. “Or eating without using my hands.”
“Is that why my dad came home with food on his chest sometimes?”
“I can be stubborn.”
Stiles laughs. “You? Stubborn? No shit.” He shifts around until his head in Derek’s lap, and he looks up at him, grinning when Derek sticks his tongue out at him. Stiles relaxes, covering the hand Derek’s resting on his chest with his own. “Dad kept an eye on you even after sanctions ended, didn’t he?”
“Your dad was always kind to me,” Derek says, curling his fingers around Stiles’ hand. “He never made me feel like it was my fault.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Stiles says softly. “Really. I get why you felt like you needed to keep away from everyone even after you got back to who are, but you’re still Derek. Still the person I grew up with.”
“Stiles, I—”
“Trust me You’re still you.” Stiles reaches his free hand up and pats Derek on the cheek, smiling when Derek turns his face, kissing Stiles’ palm. “So,” Stiles says, his skin heating up, brushing his fingers over Derek’s stubble. “Think this was a successful first date?”
“Is it really a first date?” Derek asks, catching Stiles’ hand as it trails over his lips. “It doesn’t feel like a first date.”
“Because we already knew each other? Yeah,” Stiles says off Derek’s nod. “It feels like that to me as well.”
“Do you want to stay? Tonight?”
“Uh—”
“Not for sex,” Derek says hurriedly. “I mean, not that I don’t—I do, just not right—”
“Yes,” Stiles interrupts, squeezing Derek’s hand. “I’ll stay.” The small smile Derek gives him in return is the best thing Stiles has seen in a really long time.
*
Derek’s bedroom has some framed cityscape photographs on the wall, with a soft looking bed taking up most of the room. Standing by the edge of the bed, Stiles hesitates, tugging at the end of the shirt Derek leant him.
“You don’t have to stay,” Derek says from behind him, touching Stiles on the shoulder to turn him around. “You know that, right?”
“I know,” Stiles says, meeting Derek’s eyes. “It’s just—we haven’t even kissed yet, and I’m sleeping in your bed.”
“You slept in my bed all the time when we were kids,” Derek says lightly, his fingers stroking the back of Stiles’ neck.
“Half the time you were a puppy. And we were kids, there were no, uh, urges.”
“Urges?”
Smacking Derek on the side, Stiles rolls his eyes. “Don’t be an asshole, you know what I mean.”
Derek hums, leaning in and brushing his nose along Stiles’ cheek. “I do know,” he says quietly, continuing to scent Stiles. “You—I feel it as well.”
If Stiles concentrates, he can hear the soft little huffs Derek’s making as he inhales and it’s making a tingle flow all over Stiles’ body. “Derek, I—” Stiles doesn’t get any more words out before Derek’s lips are pressing against his; soft yet insistent, as if Derek needs this as much as Stiles has been wanting it.
Neither of them deepen the kiss, and Stiles licks his lips when Derek breaks it off. The room is quiet aside from the sound of both of them breathing, and then Derek smiles; it’s the smile Stiles remembers from when they were younger and about to do something that would get them both into trouble.
“C’mon,” Derek says, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Stiles’ mouth. “Let’s go to sleep.”
*
The next morning, Stiles wakes up in bed alone and it’s like a sudden cold shower up until he hears music coming from the rest of the house. It hits him right then just how much he wants this to work out. He’d always assumed an arranged marriage was on the cards for him because that’s how the world works, but the most he’d hoped for was someone who he didn’t hate. Stiles never expected Derek; he never expected to actually be in a position where he wanted the person he was being set up with, let alone for it to be someone he would gladly go to the courthouse with after a first date.
Kicking the blankets off, Stiles goes to investigate where Derek is. He finds him in the kitchen, softly singing along to The Rolling Stones, and Stiles waits, leaning against the wall and enjoying the view.
“I know you’re there, Stiles.”
“I’d be disappointed in your werewolfy skills if you didn’t,” Stiles says, pushing off the wall and joining Derek at the counter, looking at what Derek’s making. “Waffles? You make waffles?”
“Uh huh,” Derek says, deftly dropping one on a plate already stacked high with waffles. “There’s chocolate sauce on the table, or blueberries in the fridge.”
“If we get married, can I expect this every morning?” Stiles kisses Derek on the cheek, smiling when he spots the slight flush on Derek’s neck.
“I’m hoping we’ll be otherwise occupied some mornings,” Derek mumbles, focusing on the waffle iron.
“That’s—I’d be okay with that,” Stiles says, taking the plate and heading to the table. He gets the blueberries out and pours coffee for them both before Derek joins him with his own plateful of waffles.
Breakfast passes peacefully; Stiles hooks his foot around Derek’s ankle, savouring the warmth of Derek’s skin against his, and they both make quick work of the food. Afterwards, they refill their coffee mugs and head over to the couch, Derek flicking the television on to local news. There’s a blanket on the back of the couch, and Stiles drags it down until it’s wrapped around both their shoulders. It’s still early, the morning light throwing shadows on the floor and Stiles raises his mug, inhaling the coffee scent.
“You’re not bored?” Derek nudges Stiles with his elbow.
Stiles shakes his head, shuffling closer to Derek. “Why would you think that?”
“I seem to remember an over excitable kid who wouldn’t stay still for anything.”
“People change,” Stiles says absently. “I like it here. It’s peaceful. Is that why you wanted to move into your own place?”
“You remember my sisters?” Derek asks, raising an eyebrow at Stiles before looking down. “I started... Laura called it nesting, after I started to get better. Putting this place together helped me get my mind back to being me.”
“Like the cooking.”
“Yeah. It gave me something else to concentrate on, and I needed a place that was just mine. As much as I love my family, after everything that happened at the home it was better if I was somewhere else.”
Stiles hums and leans against Derek, letting their bodies drift against each other. “This is an awesome home, dude,” he says, something settling in his chest when he feels Derek relax against him. “I need to tell you something,” Stiles says after a moment. “I should’ve told you earlier, but—”
“What is it?”
Reluctantly moving away from Derek, Stiles sits up and twists around on the couch until he’s facing Derek. He doesn’t quite know how to do this without freaking Derek out, but he takes a deep breath and powers on. “My best friend, uh, his marriage has been arranged for him. Dad and I didn’t tell him about what happened to you, so by the time we found out it—”
“Stiles.”
“He’s going to marry Allison Argent,” Stiles says in a rush. “She’s not like her aunt, I swear. I haven’t spent that much time with her, but she’s been great for Scott and —”
“Stiles stop,” Derek says softly, reaching over and pressing a finger to Stiles’ lips. “It’s okay.” He touches Stiles’ cheek before taking his hand away. “It’s okay,” Derek repeats, shrinking back against the couch.
“Are you sure?” Stiles asks tentatively, keeping his eyes on Derek. “Because you don’t look like it’s okay. I don’t want you to tell me it’s okay if it’s not okay. Scott’s my best friend, but what the Argents did to you was unforgivable.”
There’s quiet for a while and then Derek sighs heavily. “It’s not okay,” he admits, rubbing his hands along his thighs. Glancing at Stiles, he shrugs helplessly. “I want this to work out with us, but I don’t know if I can be anywhere near an Argent. I don’t—I don’t know what my reaction will be.”
“I get that,” Stiles says. “I told you I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, and that goes for this as well.”
“He’s your best friend,” Derek says quietly, staring down at his hands. “I can’t take that away from you.”
Stiles furrows his brow, and moves closer to Derek, touching him on the arm. “You wouldn’t be,” he says. “At all. Yes, Scott’s my best friend, but I—” Stiles pauses, trying to think about the right way to word it. “If I didn’t want to be with you, if I didn’t want to try this, then I wouldn’t have told you about Allison. Derek, you don’t ever have to meet her if you don’t want.”
“Okay.”
“Really okay, or you’re saying okay even though it’s not?” Stiles asks, raising an eyebrow at Derek as he insinuates himself underneath Derek’s arm, shamelessly cuddling up against him.
“Really okay,” Derek says, kissing the top of Stiles’ head. “I swear.”
If he could, Stiles would stay on the couch with Derek all day, but he has a shift at work that afternoon. Derek drives him home, and when he kisses Stiles in the car, Stiles resists the temptation to blow off work and invite Derek inside.
“Call me later?” he asks as he gets out of the car.
“Of course.”
*
After work, Stiles picks up takeout for himself and his dad and stops in at the station. Rapping his knuckles on the door frame of his dad’s office, Stiles walks in. “Brought you food,” he says, dropping the bag on the desk.
“Is this your way of apologising for not calling when you didn’t come home last night?”
Squirming under his dad’s look, Stiles feels his cheeks flush, and he reaches into the bag to distract himself. “Here,” he says. “Have some fries.”
His dad chuckles and pushes some files to the corner of his desk before taking the fries. “You know I know you’re an adult, right?”
“Yes dad.”
“You’re also my kid,” he says, pointing at Stiles with a handful of fries. “Which means I worry.”
“I was with Derek,” Stiles says, biting into an onion ring. “It was—we were getting to know each other. In a totally chaste way,” he adds quickly.
“So, it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be?”
Setting out the rest of the food in the space his dad has cleared, Stiles shrugs. “He’s still Derek. I guess I kind of lost sight of that when we were talking about marriage. I might’ve overreacted.”
“You think?”
Stiles rolls his eyes at the look his dad shoots him, and pushes the chicken wrap towards him. “That’s for you.”
“Aw, kid, c’mon.”
“I gave you fries,” Stiles says, sipping from his drink. “Be grateful.”
“Wait until Derek finds out you withhold food,” his dad grumbles, reluctantly picking up the wrap.
“Derek’s a werewolf, so I don’t need to do this to keep him healthy.” Stiles ignores the mumbling from his dad about Talia biting him to stop Stiles bothering him about food, and picks at his onion rings. “I think—I think I kind of like him.”
“Uh huh.”
“Why aren’t you surprised?”
His dad puts his wrap down and sighs, meeting the look Stiles is giving him with one of his own. “Kid, do you remember when you broke your arm?”
“Yeah. I fell out of the tree at the Hales and Derek tried to catch me.”
“He didn’t leave your side after you were hurt. Insisted on going with you and your mom to the ER, and wanted to know if he could come back to the house with you after you were discharged.”
Stiles reaches over and steals some of his dad’s fries. “I don’t remember that. I mean, I remember Derek, obviously, but I don’t remember him doing that.”
“I came home to find all three of you on the couch—Derek shifted and curled up next to you—and I couldn’t get Derek to go home that night. If I even suggested it, he started whining like I was telling him off. Took me near a week to get his fur cleaned off the couch.”
“So you’ve known since then? Did you—was this planned?” Stiles asks, baulking at the idea that this has been planned for him since birth.
“Your mom was a romantic, she always thought there’d be something,” his dad says, a sad smile on his face as he looks down at his desk. “After she died, it was hard for me to think about it, and then Derek ended up on sanctions. I had to see that kid every day,” he says, looking at Stiles. “Saw him in the worst of situations, but I also saw the strength he had to get through it. This was an arrangement, but if you want to be with him, then I’m not going to stand in your way.”
“I’m not saying we’re getting married next week,” Stiles says, picking up his burger. “But I want to see where it goes. If I’m going to be married off to anyone, I could do worse than Derek.”
“That’s an understatement,” his dad says, biting into his wrap and making a face. “No mayo? Jeez.”
*
Stiles leaves his dad to finish up his shift and heads home, picking up groceries on the way. He’s almost finished unpacking when his phone rings and he scrambles to answer it, almost knocking over the stack of fruit on the counter.
“Hey, Derek?”
“You sound out of breath,” Derek says. “Did I disturb you?”
“No, I was just unpacking groceries. Are you at home?”
“At my mom’s house. How was work?”
Stiles smiles to himself, dropping down on to a seat and leaning forward on the table. “It was okay. Helped a mom buying a deck for her kid, and picked up dinner for me and my dad.”
“Was he—did he think it was wrong that you stayed over?” There’s a hesitancy and nervousness in Derek’s voice that makes Stiles wish they were having this conversation face to face.
“No,” Stiles says instantly, needing to reassure Derek. “He told me a story about us when we were kids.”
“What story?”
“When I broke my arm, and apparently I picked up a furry stalker while I was hurt. Do you remember?”
“I—you were hurt.”
“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” Stiles says, playing with the junk mail on the table. “It’s kinda nice to know that you were looking out for me back then.”
“I’m not embarrassed, Stiles. I don’t remember it that clearly, but I remember you felt... safe.”
“Oh.”
“Is that too much?”
“No, not at all. I—I hope you still feel safe around me. Especially after everything that’s happened.”
A low chuckle comes down the line. “I do,” Derek says. “My mom’s calling me for dinner. Are you free tomorrow? The rep cinema is showing Iron Man and I thought that we could go.”
“Are you kidding? That sounds awesome.”
“So it’s a date?”
“Hell yeah.”
*
The cinema is the first of a string of dates that week. The day after the cinema, Stiles takes Derek to the arcade, and they spend way too much money on games they played as children. Not long after that, there’s Derek coming to the house and Stiles learning about Derek’s secret love of reality tv shows. There’s long make out sessions that leave Stiles breathless, Derek’s hair ruffled, and both of them trying to keep some kind of control over themselves.
Three weeks after their first date, Stiles manages to persuade Derek to meet him at the mall for lunch after one of his shifts.
Greeting Derek with a kiss, Stiles links their arms together and starts walking towards the food court. “We don’t have to eat inside the mall,” Stiles says. “It smells gross to me, so I don’t even want to know how it smells to you.”
“If you still want to eat here, you really don’t want to know what I think it smells like,” Derek says with a smirk. “Work was okay?”
“Yeah. Same as ever. What did you do today?” Stiles asks as they circle the various food options before settling on noodles.
“Translated some texts for my mom. There’s a conference coming up that she thinks they’ll be useful for.”
Stiles stares at Derek as Derek places their order. “There are werewolf conferences?” he asks. “Seriously? How come I didn’t know about this?”
“Because you’re not a werewolf?” Derek responds, handing over Stiles’ noodles.
“You think you’re so funny,” Stiles grumbles, stabbing a fork into his food.
“I know I’m funny,” Derek says, paying for them both. “You always get a flush on the back of your neck when you think I’m funny.”
“Have you been cataloguing my tells?”
“Yep.”
“That’s—kind of hot actually,” Stiles says as they head towards the nearest exit. “What’s your mom doing at the conference?”
“I’m a little worried how you went from hot to my mom so quickly,” Derek says, leading them towards a bench by the parking lot.
Stiles sits down and shrugs. “The Hales are an attractive bunch, everyone knows that. Tell me about the conference.”
“She’s going to be on a panel about arranged marriages, and how it works differently for werewolves.”
“How is it different?” Stiles asks around a mouthful of noodles. “I mean, is it frowned upon?”
“There’s more pressure to get it right,” Derek says carefully. “Divorce isn’t a big thing in our world; it’s expected that when you choose someone, you’ve chosen them for life. There’s obviously exceptions, but we take marriage very seriously. I’m not saying that humans don’t take it seriously, but—”
“No, I get it,” Stiles says. “Does scent play into it? Like, if you were expected to marry someone who didn’t smell right, would that be a problem?”
Derek nods, a small smile on his face when he looks at Stiles. “If you’d smelt gross to me, I never would’ve agreed to see how this went.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“It’s a compliment,” Derek says, twisting his plastic fork in his noodles. “I like the way you smell.”
Stiles grins to himself and leans back on the bench. “Good to know.”
When they’re finished with their food, they head back inside the mall, Derek rolling his eyes as Stiles drags him towards the comic book shop. “You can stop with the attitude,” Stiles says as he shoved past two dawdling teenagers. “I’ve seen your bookshelf, and your bedroom, you can’t hide your nerdiness from me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The trades on your shelves? The Batman plush on your bedside table? And I remember watching cartoons with you when we were kids.”
“I wasn’t trying to hide it,” Derek says, squeezing Stiles’ hand. “I was just surprised you noticed. Didn’t think you’d remember.”
“You think I don’t remember things? Or that I’m not interested in finding out about you now?” Stiles asks, stopping outside the comic book store and staring at Derek. “Is that—Derek, I always want to know more about you.”
“That’s not the reason,” Derek says, tugging Stiles out of the way of the crowd. “I know you want to know about me, it’s—I’m not used to people noticing good things about me.”
“You—”
“People still give me weird looks when they see me in town.” Derek leans against the wall and shrugs, looking over Stiles’ shoulder. “They’re doing it right now.”
Stiles whirls around, narrowing his eyes at the crowd. He spots a man staring at them and glares back at him until he walks away. “I never noticed,” Stiles says, turning back to Derek. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
“Still. We can leave if you want. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“Hey,” Derek says, touching Stiles’ chin with his finger. “You could never make me feel uncomfortable.”
Stiles smiles at him before leaning in for a kiss, not giving a fuck who is watching, or what they’re thinking. “If I ever do,” he says, lips brushing over Derek’s mouth. “You tell me.”
Derek’s hands slide around Stiles’ waist, and a shiver runs down Stiles’ spine when he feels Derek’s fingers slip under his shirt. Stiles smiles into the kiss, thinking about how he never got to make out with a hot guy at the mall when he was a teenager, but now he’s got the hot guy, he’s going to take full advantage of this.
“I think we’re making a scene,” Derek says, resting their foreheads together. “And I’m not sure I care.”
“Good. Now, are you coming inside the store with me?”
“I’ll go wherever you want me to go.”
Heat floods Stiles’ face and he nods, not sure what to say in response to such a declaration. Clearing his throat, he takes a step back and reaches for Derek’s hand. They’re about to go inside the store when someone calls Stiles’ name; he looks over his shoulder and spots Scott and Allison coming towards them.
“Oh crap,” Stiles mutters.
“What is it?”
“It’s Scott and Allison, they’re coming over.” Squeezing Derek’s hand, Stiles looks at him. “You can go if you want, I’m not going to judge you for it.”
“No, I—” Derek’s face scrunches up and he brushes his free hand over Stiles’ cheek. “I don’t want to leave you alone around an Argent.”
Stiles examines Derek’s face, taking in the set of his jaw, and the way his muscles are tensed like he’s ready for a fight. “If you want us to go, just say so and we’ll go,” he says before turning around and forcing a smile on his face as Scott and Allison approach. “Hey guys.”
“Hey, Stiles,” Scott says. “What’re you doing?”
“Lunch with Derek,” Stiles says, noticing the way Allison’s hanging back. “Comic book store, and then probably going home.”
“Oh.” Scott shuffles his feet, looking between Stiles and Allison. “Allison and I were just going for lunch, right?”
“Yeah,” Allison says quietly, the tiniest of smiles on her face as she looks at Stiles. “Having a break from eating with my dad, you know how he is.”
Derek’s grip on Stiles’ hand tightens, and Stiles leans into him slightly, hoping that Derek’s taking some kind of comfort from it. “I haven’t actually met your dad,” Stiles says. “And that’s definitely not me angling for an invitation.”
Scott laughs, and Stiles can tell it’s forced, but he loves Scott so much for trying. “I don’t blame you, dude,” Scott says. “He freaks me out and I haven’t got anything to do with werewolves.”
And then sometimes Scott puts his foot in his mouth and Stiles wants to slap his own face.
“Right,” Stiles says, letting out a huff. “I think we’re going to skip the comic book store and go home.”
“Stiles I—”
“It’s cool, Scott,” Stiles says, offering him a weak smile. “This was always going be awkward. Derek and I really are gonna go home.”
Derek’s grip on Stiles’ hand is so tight, Stiles is starting to worry his bones are gonna crack. “Have you got your jeep?” Derek says as they start to walk away. “My mom dropped me off, and I—I wouldn’t trust myself to drive.”
“Yeah,” Stiles says, leading Derek out of the building and towards where he left his jeep. “It’s right here. Do you want to come home with me? Or go back to your house?” Derek’s grip on Stiles’ hand loosens when they reach the jeep, and they both stop outside the vehicle. “Hey,” Stiles says, reaching up and touching Derek’s jaw. “Wherever you want to go.”
“Your house,” Derek says eventually.
When they’re both in the jeep, Stiles leans over and kisses Derek firmly; pressing their mouths together again and again until Derek’s hand comes up to rest on the back of Stiles’ neck, slowing Stiles’ desperate kisses down into something slower, softer and more intimate than Stiles has ever experienced before.
“I’m not okay,” Derek says when they part, lips brushing over Stiles’ mouth. “But I will be.”
Stiles tilts his head back to meet Derek’s eyes and nods in acceptance. “I know you will.”
*
“What happened?” Stiles dad asks when they get home. “Derek looks like he saw a ghost.”
“Uh, close,” Stiles says, leading Derek on to the couch, trying not to show a reaction on his face when Derek immediately buries his face in the curve of Stiles’ neck. “An Argent.”
“Chris?”
“Allison.”
“Ah.”
Derek lifts his head slightly and looks over at Stiles’ dad. “It wasn’t—she didn’t do anything.”
“She doesn’t have to,” Stiles’ dad responds. “That’s not how trauma works, kid, and you know it.”
Stiles feels the brush of Derek’s hair against his cheek and reaches over to take Derek’s hand, tangling their fingers together. “You’re okay,” he says quietly. “They can’t hurt you.”
“I know.” Derek’s voice is barely above a whisper, and Stiles sighs, wishing he could do more for him.
“I have to get to work,” Stiles’ dad says, standing up. He claps a hand on Stiles’ shoulder and squeezes. “If Derek wants to stay over then that’s okay.”
Stiles wrinkles his nose in spite of himself; he’s an adult, and okay this is his father’s house, but still. He is grateful, though, because leaving Derek alone tonight isn’t something Stiles is comfortable with. “Thanks, dad. Stay safe.”
“Take care of him,” Stiles’ dad says as a goodbye, and Stiles isn’t entirely sure which of them he’s talking to. Stiles kind of thinks it’s both; knows how much his dad cares for Derek and wants him to be in a safe place.
Stiles leans back on the couch after his dad leaves, curling an arm around Derek when he presses himself against Stiles’ side. It feel right, having Derek so close like this, and Stiles hopes Derek’s getting some kind of comfort from it being that it’s all Stiles can really do for him.
“As much as I love cuddling on the couch with you, do you want to go upstairs? To nap, I mean. The couch isn’t exactly big enough, and I think you’re falling asleep on me.”
“No m’not.”
Smiling to himself, Stiles kisses the top of Derek’s head and sighs. “You kind of are. Big bad wolf doesn’t want to admit when he’s sleepy?”
“I’ll bite you,” Derek mumbles, his hand resting on Stiles’ stomach.
“You promise?”
Derek doesn’t respond, but lifts his head and meets Stiles’ eyes. There’s a heat in his gaze that Stiles hasn’t experienced from him before, and it makes Stiles’ mouth water. He’s not sure how long they spend staring at each other, but then Derek’s mouth is on his, insistent, his body pressing Stiles back against the couch as they kiss. It’s the hottest thing Stiles has ever had happen to him, and he runs his hands down Derek’s back, sliding his fingers underneath the hem of Derek’s shirt.
By the time Derek pulls away, Stiles is breathing heavily, his fingers pressing against the muscle of Derek’s back. “Upstairs?” Stiles says tentatively, licking his lips. “I just—”
“Yeah,” Derek says, kissing Stiles quickly. “That sounds—”
“Right.”
It takes more self control than Stiles realised he had to get up the stairs without incident, and before he knows it they’re practically falling through the doorway to his room.
“Bed,” he says, mouth brushing over Derek’s cheek.
“I could blow you where you stand,” Derek says, his hands gripping Stiles’ hips as he walks them over to the bed.
Biting back a whine, Stiles almost trips over his feet. He finds himself on the edge of the bed, kicking his sneakers off as Derek stands in front of him, gazing down. “You just going to look?” Stiles asks, feeling a flush over his skin as he looks up at Derek.
“I could,” Derek says with a grin, his fingers touching Stiles’ cheek, running over Stiles’ face until Stiles’ skin is buzzing with anticipation. “Get on the bed properly, take your pants off.”
Scrambling to obey, Stiles ends up flat on his back, feet dangling over the edge of the bed with his cock straining against his boxers. Derek’s thumbs press against the grooves of Stiles’ hips, and Stiles whines, squirming on the bed. “What’re you—fuck.”
“Not today,” Derek says, tugging Stiles’ boxers down. “Just let me—”
“Like I’m going to stop you,” Stiles says, eyes wide and staring up at the ceiling. The words are barely out before he feels Derek’s tongue swiping up his cock, and Stiles grips the blankets tightly, a groan slipping from his lips. There’s a buzzing under his skin, like all his nerves are on fire, and Stiles squirms on the bed as Derek’s mouth closes around his cock.
Derek’s hand is clamped on Stiles’ hip, holding him down, and a shiver runs down his spine at the possessiveness of it, at the way Derek doesn’t want to let him up. Stiles wants to touch Derek, wants to get his hands on him, but the most he can do is touch the hand Derek has on him. It’s not nearly enough, but something inside Stiles knows Derek needs this, and he’s not going to protest, especially when Derek’s mouth is this close to bringing him off.
His fingers scrabble against the back of Derek’s hand, and Stiles gasps, sweat beading on his body as Derek licks and sucks and—. “Fuck,” Stiles yelps as he comes, back arching off the bed. Trying to catch his breath, Stiles scrubs a hand over his face and watches Derek climb onto the bed, knees either side of Stiles’ thighs.
“Stay still,” Derek says, and Stiles locks eyes with him, nodding once in agreement. The quiet in the room is broken by Derek unfastening his jeans, and Stiles swallows, glancing down at where Derek’s cock is jutting out. Stiles rests his hands on Derek’s thighs, fingertips digging in, wanting to get his hands around Derek’s cock, but knowing that Derek won’t let him.
It’s not a test, he’s fairly sure Derek won’t do anything to him if he disobeys, but Stiles wants this; wants to be good for Derek. He’s not sure what he can give Derek if they marry, but he he can give him this in the here and now. He can give him trust, comfort, and very possibly love.
Stiles gets pulled out of his thoughts by the noises Derek’s making; the bitten off moans and gasps making Stiles’ spent dick twitch valiantly. It doesn’t take long before Derek’s thighs are shaking underneath Stiles’ hands, and Stiles bites his lip, watching the head of Derek’s cock pushing in and out of Derek’s fist. “Come on,” he says quietly. “Please.”
He’ll never know if it was his voice, or if Derek was just that close, but Derek comes after that, his head tipped back, and all Stiles wants to do is lick the long line of Derek’s neck. Stiles can’t take his eyes off Derek; it’s almost obscene the way Derek’s fully clothed, come all over his hand and his slowly softening dick. Reaching up, Stiles makes grabby hands until Derek curls over him and their mouths meet in an intense kiss.
Stiles loses track of how many kisses they trade, and it’s not until he feels come drying on his skin that he pulls away. “That was—are you okay?”
“I’m great,” Derek says quietly, the corners of his mouth curving up in a soft smile. “I wanted this.”
“I wanted it as well,” Stiles says, his fingers playing with Derek’s hair, tugging on the ends. “I—this feels right. We feel right. I’m not saying that we should head to the town hall tomorrow, but—”
“I get it,” Derek says, cutting him off, ducking his head down and kissing Stiles. “I get it.”
*
“What would you say if I asked you to move in with me?”
Stiles drops his fork on the table and coughs, knowing his eyes are wide as he stares at Derek. “I. You. What?”
“As a trial run,” Derek says, his ears turning pink. “You spend a lot of time here anyway, and if we get married then you’d move in and—”
“Yes,” Stiles blurts out. “Yes, I’ll move in.” It’s been barely three months since they started dating, and if it were anyone else Stiles would be thinking this was moving way too fast, but each morning he’s woken up without Derek has left him feeling empty, like he’s missing something important, and he hates that feeling more than he can say.
The look on Derek’s face is more than enough for Stiles to decide he’s making the right choice. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Derek look so happy in such a simple way, and Stiles wants to make it his mission to put that look on Derek’s face as often as he can.
“When?” Derek asks, the smile on his face not dimming at all.
“Whenever you want,” Stiles says, picking up his fork and poking at the remainder of his spaghetti. Looking over at Derek, he sticks his foot out until it collides with Derek’s shin. “I’m assuming you’re going to help me move in.”
“Help doesn’t mean carry everything.”
“But—”
“Please don’t use the phrase ‘wolfy strength’, Stiles.”
Pouting, Stiles leans back in his chair and folds his arms over his chest. “You don’t know I was going to say that.”
“I really do,” Derek says, smirking across the table at him. “If I had a dollar for each time you’ve used that phrase, I’d be a very rich man.”
“Your family owns most of the town, you already are a rich man,” Stiles says, getting up from the table and carrying his dishes to the sink.
“So you’re only with me because of my money?” Derek asks, his stubble scraping the back of Stiles’ neck.
“Uh huh,” Stiles says, smiling as Derek’s arms curl around his body, pulling him backwards. Resting his hands over Derek’s arms, Stiles relaxes back against him. “It’s all about the money. Nothing to do with you being kind of great.”
“Flattering,” Derek says, ducking his head and kissing the side of Stiles’ neck. “You’re kind of great as well.”
“I’ll take it. Who are we going to tell first?”
“My mom is out of town,” Derek says, letting go of Stiles and collecting the rest of the dishes from the table. “So it’s your dad.”
Making a face, Stiles sighs. “Would you believe me if I said he was out of town?”
“I saw him this morning, Stiles.”
“Are you sure? There’s a lot of people who look like him.”
“Who wear Sheriff uniforms?”
“Fine,” Stiles says. “We’ll tell him tomorrow.”
*
Stiles isn’t worried about what his dad is going to say about moving in with Derek; the whole thing was his idea, so Stiles is pretty sure he can’t object to it. It’s fast, Stiles isn’t going to deny that, but Lydia started living with Cora four months after they started dating, and the only reason Scott and Allison aren’t living together is because of her father. Stiles shudders at the thought of dealing with Mr Argent. Even if he weren’t dating a werewolf, Stiles would be creeped out by the Argents.
“You want to live with Derek?” Stiles’ dad says, his fingers tapping against the desk.
Stiles is kind of regretting doing this at the station with all the weapons and handcuffs. He’s pretty sure his dad isn’t going to arrest Derek. Not now, anyway. “Uh, yeah?”
It’s quiet in the office, the sounds from the station filtering in through the door, and Stiles fidgets in his chair, shooting a nervous glance at Derek in the chair next to him. There’s nothing he can really say to improve the situation, but there’s definitely things he could say that would make the situation worse.
“When?” his dad asks.
“As soon as possible?”
“And you’re okay with taking on my kid, Derek?”
Derek lets out a low chuckle and nods, looking over at Stiles. “Yes,” he says. “I wouldn’t want him to move in if I didn’t see a future with him, and I—he’s important to me.”
Stiles’ dad nods, a small smile on his face. “Good.”
“So we have your approval?” Stiles asks, sitting on the edge of his seat.
“Of course you do, kid,” his dad says immediately, his brow furrowing. “This—your mom would be happy for you.”
“Dad—”
“She would. I’m happy for you as well. Both of you,” he says, nodding at Derek. “Have you told your family yet?”
“Mom’s on a trip, so we’re going to tell them when she gets back,” Derek says. “You’re the first to know.”
“And the first to get roped into helping Stiles pack, I assume?”
“Why does everyone think I’m going to ask for help?” Stiles exclaims, slumping back in the chair. “I’m twenty five, I can pack up my own things.”
“I’ll remember that when you’re complaining,” his dad says, winking at Derek and standing up behind his desk. “Now get out, I’ve got work to do.”
Stiles hangs back in the office and pulls his dad into a hug. “Thank you,” he says, patting his dad on the back before stepping back. “I know I wasn’t—I was a shit about this, but this—Derek—it works. I didn’t know if it would, but it does.”
“You’d think you would’ve learnt to trust your old man by now.”
“If you’d start trusting me with your food, maybe I’d listen to you more.”
His dad laughs and waves a hand. “Go. Call me later.”
Stiles slips out of the office and finds Derek chatting with one of the deputies. “You ready?” he asks when he reaches them.
“Yeah.”
Staring out the window as they drive through the town, Stiles watches as they pass by the bakery where Stiles and his mom would go for sneaky donuts after visiting his dad; the toy store where he and Scott dithered over what Power Rangers to buy; the movie theatre where he and Derek went on a date. There are memories all over this town, and Stiles doesn’t know what new memories he’s going to make with Derek, but he wants to be able to walk around town in a few years and think of them.
“You’re quiet,” Derek says, not taking his eyes off the road.
“Thinking.”
“About what?”
“Our future.”
*
A month later, Stiles comes home from work to find Derek outside at the back of the house, grilling some steaks.
“Hey,” he says, sneaking up next to Derek and kissing him on the cheek. “Craving meat?”
“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.”
“You just did.”
“Smartass.”
Stiles grins and steps back from the grill when it spits at him. “Because you didn’t know that before I moved in?”
“Oh I knew that,” Derek says, flipping the steaks. “Grab a plate, they’re done.”
When Stiles turns to grab a plate, he spots a small box on the table. “Derek, what--”
“It’s a ring.”
Stiles pauses, his hand hovering over the box. “A ring,” he says, struck dumb. “This is how you propose?”
“Did you want a giant spectacle? For me to hire a skywriter?” Reaching around Stiles, Derek picks up a plate and drops the steaks on it. After switching the grill off, Derek wipes his hands and reaches for the box, holding it out to Stiles. “Take it.”
“I—”
“Stiles.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Stiles takes the box and opens it. The ring is simple, a silver band with small lines etched into it and Stiles loves it.
“Is it okay?”
“More than,” Stiles says, slipping it on his finger; he stares at it and shakes his head. “I’m not gonna be the only one wearing an engagement ring,” he says, looking up at Derek. “I’m getting you one.”
“I’m okay with that,” Derek says, grasping Stiles’ hand and rubbing his thumb over the ring.
Three days later, Stiles gives Derek a ring while they’re watching Law and Order. He figures it’s about on the same level as Derek’s proposal.