Archive of Our Own

1. The neighbours are talking.

He was absolutely positive that if his workday had gone on even one second longer, he’d probably have had to call his boyfriend to come bail him out of jail for murder. 

The funny thing was, he wasn’t even a violent person by nature. He knew guys who were like that, the ones who always patted people a bit too hard on the back, or punched their friends in the arm, or did fake choke holds that were actually a bit too tight sometimes. The kinds of guys who actually were violent by accident. 

He wasn’t even accidentally violent, that one incident that one time notwithstanding, but in his defence, he’d been trying to save someone’s life, so he felt he warranted a bit of leniency on the brief moment of violence. 

But that wasn’t the point. The point was: he was not a violent person, and yet his day had made him ready to commit a murder. Multiple murders, even. He’d probably have gotten away with it though, and that was the scary thing. He was pretty sure if he’d murdered anyone today, whether it was one person or ten, he’d have gotten away with it. 

Because his boyfriend’s dad was the sheriff, and as long as his son was happy, he was happy. If he got arrested, then his boyfriend would be sad, and his father wouldn’t want that. Ergo, if he ever committed a murder—or multiple murders—he was always guaranteed a free pass. 

A dangerous thought, that, considering his day. He needed to stop thinking about murder. 

Thankfully, he’d just pulled into his parking spot and cut the engine, which meant he was a mere elevator ride away from seeing said boyfriend, which would make everything better. 

Despite his best efforts, Derek Hale let a small smile form on his lips before he climbed out of his car, eyes already straying towards the small alcove the elevator was in even as he reached into the passenger seat to grab his bag. 

One elevator ride, and he’d be able to forget all about his horrible day, because he knew he had a boyfriend who would do anything to make him feel better. Derek wouldn’t even have to ask, he’d just do it because it was the kind of person he was. 

The same kind of person who could be terrified of something, but try it anyway, just to make Derek happy. Not to say Derek himself wouldn’t do the same, but it just felt so different sometimes. He’d had so many other partners in his life, but none of them had ever fit like this before. 

Probably because his boyfriend happened to be his mate, but it was still a bit of a shock to realize how easily the man fit into his life. He supposed that made sense, that was the whole point of a mate, but it was still surreal most of the time. 

Shutting the car door, he headed for the alcove, more than ready for an evening of sitting on the couch with a warm body tucked against him. He would return to those murderous thoughts if anyone tried to stop him from achieving that, and still know he’d get away with it. 

“I am spending way too much time with him,” Derek concluded to himself, letting out a small laugh as he entered the alcove with his key fob and hit the button for the elevator. Only Stiles Stilinski could have Derek constantly thinking about murder. 

Probably because Stiles talked about it so much. Usually when he was accusing Derek of trying to murder him with the mind-blowing sex. 

Derek took it as a compliment. 

When the lift arrived some ten years later—Derek felt like it took forever, when it probably only took two minutes, but it was standing between him and Stiles—he stepped through the doors when they opened and started to hit the button for his floor when he paused. 

He knew Stiles was waiting on a package, and even if it had arrived today, unless he’d gone for a run or to the store for some food, chances were he wouldn’t have come down to check on it. Deciding to be a good boyfriend, since it’d give him extra brownie points, he hit the ground floor instead and waited as the doors closed. 

The doors opened shortly thereafter and he walked out into the lobby, nodding a greeting to the concierge by the door before turning to head for the mailroom. When he walked in, he found a few packages littered about, because people—like his boyfriend—didn’t pick up their packages in a timely manner. 

Checking all the names, he found one boasting Stiles’ and grabbed it before checking both his mail, and the other man’s. It was still so weird sometimes that they both still owned and lived in their own apartments, but Derek actually loved it. It was how they’d met, after all, and he enjoyed watching Stiles and all his weird antics across the way. 

Of course, it also helped keep the two of them focussed on things other than sex. Not that Derek was complaining, he was quite enjoying all the sex, it was Stiles who needed the reprieve. He kept insisting he’d never known he’d ever need a break from sex, but Derek understood. It was an Alpha Werewolf thing, he’d heard about it from others he knew, and honestly, most of them were shocked—and jealous—that Stiles was so resilient for a human. 

Hell, even Stiles’ best friend’s wife couldn’t handle as many rounds as Stiles seemed to. Derek was just lucky, and he was forever grateful his boyfriend was a fucking trooper. 

No pun intended. 

Once he had everything in hand, he headed back to the elevator, sighing when he hit the button, only to find neither lift opening right away. Someone had already called the elevator away, even though he’d only been in the mailroom for thirty seconds, tops. 

The door behind him opened as he waited, hearing footsteps approach across the lobby. A kind greeting was exchanged with Isaac Lahey at the front, and Derek couldn’t help the small smile before turning slightly to find an older woman stopping right beside him. 

“Derek,” she said with a pleasant smile. “You’re looking well.” 

“So are you,” he replied honestly. “Still enjoying your lessons?” 

She smacked his arm lightly, like she thought he was teasing her, but he wasn’t. Mrs. Coombs was seventy-six years old, and had never learned how to swim. She’d added it to her bucket list around the same time Derek and Stiles had started dating, and had diligently been going to lessons twice a week. 

He had to admire her dedication, since he could think of younger people giving up right out of the gate, so he was proud of her for sticking with it even though she kept insisting it was scary. 

“I’ve managed to stay afloat without the boards for two lessons now, so I consider it progress.” 

“That is progress,” Derek insisted. “Good for you. I think you’ll make an excellent swimmer when you’re done your lessons.” 

She smiled at him, reaching up to lightly pat one of his cheeks in a grandmotherly way. Derek really liked her, she was a kind woman. She lived on the top floor, two units over from Stiles, so Derek could see parts of her living room from his apartment. They’d only started talking one day when Derek had been driving home from work, and found her picking up groceries on the side of the road. 

One of her bags had torn, and her groceries had scattered all over the sidewalk. 

Derek had stopped the car right beside her and stepped out to help her, offering her a ride back at the same time. She was surprised he knew who she was, but it was hard not to know almost everyone in the building. The way it was laid out made it easy for most people to bump into each other in the hallways or elevator, and Derek felt like he knew basically everyone on Stiles’ side of the building since no one shut their blinds. 

Ever since then, they’d formed a sort of acquaintanceship. They didn’t spend any extended length of time together, but they chatted briefly whenever they bumped into each other. Derek also offered to do her grocery shopping for her—even if it was usually Stiles who actually did it, Derek just delivered it. It was still criminal the store down the road charged for parking, and he could understand why everyone was always walking to and from the store. 

It wasn’t a lot of money, in the grand scheme of things, but as Stiles would say, “It’s the principle of the matter, Derek! I will not give them my hard-earned coffee money because they’re assholes!” 

The elevator arrived then, and Derek motioned for Mrs. Coombs to step in first, following behind her and nodding a thanks when she hit his floor before her own. 

When the doors closed, he smelled more than saw that she was hesitating with talking to him about something. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, seeing her fidget a bit, but she seemed to find her resolve because she eventually turned to him fully. 

“So. That man. The one who’s been in your unit the past few months. Your boyfriend?” 

Derek was suddenly worried she was about to reveal some deep-rooted homophobia, but he just nodded once and said, “Yes. Stiles.” 

She nodded back, and he could see the gears turning in her head. It was obvious she had something to say about this, but considering she hadn’t immediately reacted with disgust and called him a heathen, he assumed it wasn’t about him dating a man. 

Mrs. Coombs opened her mouth once. Closed it. Let out a small huff of a breath, and tried again. 

“He’s a little odd.” 

Derek’s left eyebrow slowly rose at those words. A part of him wanted to laugh, because yes, Stiles was indeed odd in many regards, but he didn’t really know where she was going with her comment. 

“Aren’t we all a little odd sometimes?” he said instead. 

“Well, yes, but...” she trailed off, like she was still trying to find the right words. “It’s just—I’ve lived in this building a long time. A very long time.” She pointed a warning finger at him, as if threatening him with harm if he made a joke about how old she was. He just obediently kept his mouth shut and waited for her to continue. “I’ve seen many things in my years here, including that horrendous couple who lived in your apartment before you did. But your boyfriend is... well, he’s...” 

The elevator stopped and the doors opened, Mrs. Coombs still not having finished her train of thought. Derek moved to step out of the elevator, but kept one hand against the doors, waiting for her to finish. 

“Does he make you happy?” she finally asked. 

Derek managed a small smile, and nodded. “He does. Very much.” 

Letting out a deep sigh, she clasped her hands together in front of herself and offered him his own smile. “Well then, that’s all that matters. I suppose being odd isn’t the worst thing in the world.” 

Derek laughed then, wishing they had more time to talk about this, since he wanted to know what she was really too polite to blurt out. Maybe next time they ran into each other. 

“Have a good night, Mrs. Coombs.” 

“Same to you, Derek.” 

He let his hand drop, probably right before the alarm would start wailing for the doors being kept open too long, and watched them shut. 

What a weird conversation.

Turning, he paused before heading down the corridor. It was always hit or miss on where Stiles would be—his own place, or Derek’s. If he was working on something with a deadline, he’d probably be at his own place, and Derek didn’t remember him moaning and whining about a deadline this morning when he left for work, so he was probably at Derek’s. 

Heading down the right side of the building, he made it to his apartment and tried the door, rolling his eyes when he found it unlocked. 

“You’re going to get yourself murdered one day,” Derek said in way of greeting as he pushed through the door and shut it behind himself. He locked it, like a responsible person, and moved further into his apartment. 

“I only unlock it when I know you’re on the way home,” Stiles’ voice called out from the study. Derek arched an eyebrow, unsure of what he was doing in there, and headed in that direction. 

He started to drop his bag onto the couch and paused when he caught sight of Stiles through the open door just as he’d been about to let go of what he was holding. 

Derek had seen Stiles in many different positions since he’d moved in, both sexually, and just in general. This was a new one, though. It looked like he was trying to contort himself, and Derek was seriously worried about his ability to function like a normal human being in a minute. 

“New cover?” 

“Comic,” Stiles corrected, Derek finally following through on dropping his bag and then wandering over to the study. He crossed his arms and leaned sideways against the jamb, staring at Stiles who was literally sprawled across his desk and contorting like he was trying to dislocate his own arm. 

“I don’t remember this happening in the lead-up of our relationship,” Derek informed him, looking around the office for his papers. Thankfully, Stiles was always respectful of his work, and he knew the man hadn’t just sprawled on top of it all on the desk. 

He was proven correct when he found all his pieces on top of the filing cabinet he had beside the door. Why Stiles was using his desk for whatever he was doing instead of the floor, Derek would never know, but sometimes, it was funnier not to ask. 

Stiles was nothing if not entertaining. 

“We didn’t, but I need a good shot of shoulder blades in a specific position for the panel I’m working on.” 

“And this warrants taking up a part-time gig as a contortionist?” Derek asked curiously, glancing across the way. It was getting dark outside thanks to the time of year, but there was enough light for him to be able to see into his boyfriend’s own study, where his laptop was clearly visible. “You don’t even have your computer, this couldn’t wait?”

“I didn’t want to forget the idea,” Stiles insisted, making absolutely no move to stop what he was doing, or ask for help. 

Derek was content to just watch, because it was giving him a lot of insight into Stiles’ flexibility. 

Not that he didn’t know how flexible Stiles was, but he wasn’t going to complain if Stiles got a little more flexible. Would make some of the positions he’d like to try interesting for later. 

Or like, in ten minutes, when he picked Stiles up and carried him into the bedroom. It was actually alarming how being hit with Stiles’ scent upon entering the apartment went straight to his dick. People really weren’t kidding about mates, he’d have to apologize to Laura for always making fun of her for climbing her husband like a tree. 

“Where’s your tripod?” Derek asked after watching Stiles struggle a few more seconds. It was more the sounds he made as he attempted to capture the perfect picture that were making it difficult for him to keep up his nonchalant pose. 

Stiles made amazing sounds, Derek wished he could bottle them up and savour them. Which, in retrospect, was a weird thing to want to do, but he could admit he was obsessed. 

“At home.” 

“Why didn’t you go get it instead of trying to break your own spine?” 

“It’s so far,” Stiles whined, finally collapsing onto his back on the desk and letting out an aggrieved sigh. He turned his head to look at Derek, who just arched an eyebrow, still leaning against the jamb. “You’re not gonna greet me like a good boyfriend?” 

“You’re the one who thought contorting yourself was a good greeting for me,” Derek said, but obediently pushed away from the door and moved a few steps into his study, bracing one hand against the wall behind his desk, and the other on the desk itself by Stiles’ head as he leaned down. He kept some space between them, but Stiles just grinned and wrapped both arms around Derek’s neck, phone still held in one of his hands. 

“What, seeing how flexible I am wasn’t a good greeting for you?” 

Sometimes, he felt like Stiles could read his mind. Which was hilarious, given Stiles often accused all his Werewolf friends of having the ability to read minds. 

“Would’ve been, if you’d also been naked.” 

“Right here? On display for everyone?” 

Derek scowled at that, baring his teeth unintentionally, and Stiles laughed. He absolutely hated the idea of anyone but him seeing Stiles naked. It was bad enough he knew Stiles had had partners before him, and that Scott and Jackson still randomly wandered into his bathroom while Stiles was showering. He absolutely did not share. 

“In bed,” Derek growled out. 

“Don’t worry, you know I’m not an exhibitionist,” Stiles teased and pulled hard enough to force Derek to relent, lowering his head so that Stiles could lift himself up slightly to kiss him. 

Derek didn’t even remember being angry when he’d first gotten home. It seemed like an eternity ago, something that had happened once upon a time, but definitely not just a few moments ago. It was weird how easily Stiles could make him forget about everything just by existing. He didn’t even have to do anything, he just had to exist, and it was like Derek’s entire world was right. 

He knew he shouldn’t start anything right now. It was close to dinner time, Stiles had probably gotten some stuff from the store so he and Derek could make food together. Hell, knowing Stiles, he’d probably forgotten to eat lunch and was hungry as all hell, but wouldn’t have eaten without Derek. 

It was a bad idea to start something now, it was. 

Unfortunately, Derek could resist virtually anything—except Stiles. 

Shifting the hand he had braced against the wall down onto the desk, he broke the kiss and managed to get his arm under Stiles’ back, pulling him upwards while straightening and eliciting a squawk from his boyfriend as he literally threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

“Wha—no! No, no, no! We have food! Dinner! Sustenance!” Stiles argued, even as Derek did an about-face and headed across the apartment towards the bedroom. 

“You started it,” he insisted, even as his wolf hummed in satisfaction at what was coming. 

“I was just giving you a welcome home kiss!” Stiles insisted, flailing slightly to get free. Derek knew if he really wanted to get free, he would, because Derek would listen to him if he truly didn’t want to fuck like animals before dinner. “Derek, I’m serious! I haven’t eaten since like, nine! I’m starving!” 

“It’ll make the meal more satisfying,” Derek said, and turned to glance out the window as they reached the bedroom. 

He just barely caught a glimpse of Mrs. Coombs shaking her head as she turned away from the window before he disappeared into the bedroom with Stiles, shutting the door behind them for good measure. 

Stiles complained about being hungry the entire time Derek undressed him, but by the time they got started, the only words escaping him were incomprehensible groans of Derek’s name. 

They didn’t end up eating dinner until eleven. 

2. Zoom Calls Are Best Done Privately.

Of all the days his boss had to have this meeting, it had to be today. Honestly, the guy was lucky Derek liked him so much or he’d have just ignored his call when his phone rang. 

This was his first day off in he didn’t even remember how long, and suddenly his boss called him in a panic because he’d forgotten he’d booked a meeting with one of their most important clients. The guy was really specific on his wants and do-not-wants, and one of his wants was for Derek to always be involved. 

He trusted Derek, for some reason. Not that Derek wasn’t trustworthy, he just didn’t know what he’d done that had made this man decide that Derek had to be involved in any and all projects. It worked out for him, since it got Derek a nice raise when that discovery came about, but it also meant that no meetings could ever take place without him.

Hence his current predicament. He couldn’t make it to the office in time for the meeting, and when his boss suggested using Zoom, Derek informed him he didn’t own a computer—why would he own a computer, everything could be done on his phone! That thing was basically a computer itself in his hand. 

While not impossible to do it on his phone, it would make it harder for Derek to take notes, and he was sure he’d be moving the screen around a lot. He supposed he could try and find a stand, or maybe even borrow Stiles’ tripod, but he was still annoyed about it. 

When he looked over at his boyfriend across the way—Stiles had a big project due, so despite Derek’s day off, he was leaving him alone until dinner—he saw that Stiles was standing at his whiteboard, motioning it emphatically. 

Even though they had each other’s numbers now, they still used the whiteboards. It was how they’d met, after all. Derek owed a lot to the board. 

‘Just come use mine’ 

That had Derek scowling and he turned back to his own board, erasing what he’d written on it since that was how he’d told Stiles about his predicament. 

‘you’re using it for work’

Stiles rolled his head to exaggerate his eye roll and turned back to his board. 

‘I need to take reference shots anyway’

That was true. Derek had seen Stiles getting up every now and then to take some pictures, so he wasn’t lying for his benefit, but he also knew that whenever they were together, it made them... distracted. 

Laura had promised the ‘honeymoon’ stage would get better eventually, and that the pheromones Derek released that made Stiles want to climb him like a tree whenever they were within ten feet of each other would lessen, but it’d been months and it was still happening. 

According to Stiles, his best friend’s human wife said that it had never gone away for her, so now Derek was wondering if it was a human thing. Maybe it lessened for Werewolves and they could control themselves a bit more before long, but humans just... couldn’t. 

Derek knew that meant he’d have to try hard not to be the one to start something. But that in and of itself was borderline impossible. When Stiles started releasing chemosignals and Derek was positively bathed in desire, it was so hard to resist. 

But, he also knew his boyfriend had work, and Derek wasn’t going to jeopardize his contract, so he was sure he’d be able to have his meeting and then leave without incident. 

Sighing, almost in defeat, because how could one possibly say no to Stiles Stilinski, Derek motioned he’d be right there and recapped his pen, putting it back where it belonged. He went to get his notebook out of his satchel, grabbed a random pen he had lying around on his desk, and then exited the study. 

Padding towards the door barefoot, he grabbed his keys and headed out of the apartment, locking up behind himself. 

He’d already changed so that he was wearing a nice dress-shirt, but was still wearing sweats on his lower half. Not like the camera would see what his pants looked like, and there was no reason to put on shoes when he was just going to Stiles’ place. It was literally forty seconds from his door to Stiles’. 

Derek didn’t run into anyone on his way around the building, and when he reached Stiles’ door, he found it unlocked. He hated when Stiles did that, even though the man insisted it was always locked unless he knew Derek was about to show up. 

He didn’t know if he believed him, considering how often people used to appear in his apartment back before they were dating. He still got a weird sense of possessiveness when he remembered that both Scott and Jackson had keys to his place, but he tried not to let his territorial side out too much. 

When he shut and locked the door behind him and headed for the study, Stiles was exiting it with his phone in his hand, tripod already set up in the living room. 

“Sorry,” Derek said, leaning over to kiss Stiles’ cheek lightly before brushing past him. 

“I told you it was fine,” the other man argued, sounding exasperated. 

Derek didn’t comment on it and just sat down at Stiles’ computer. It was open on the Zoom login screen, so Derek put in his credentials and then opened his email so he could pull up the meeting invite. It wasn’t scheduled to start for another fifteen minutes, but he logged in anyway and within a minute, his boss did the same. 

“Derek,” the man said, looking as guilty as he probably felt. “I apologize for the inconvenience. I didn’t realize the meeting was today, or else I’d have notified you before you booked your time off.”

“Not a problem,” Derek lied, because—okay, it wasn’t a problem, but at the same time, he’d been enjoying a relaxing morning of watching his boyfriend’s antics across the way, and was now interrupting said boyfriend who was working.

He didn’t know what his current project was, since Stiles said he wanted to show him the finished product, but he could hear the man jumping around behind him, clearly trying for a reference shot. 

“Let me bring you up to speed, I had a chance to review everything earlier this morning.”

Derek nodded and sat listening as his boss explained the purpose of the upcoming meeting. He was honestly getting a little distracted because he could see Stiles behind him in the camera, and had to resist the urge to blow up his own image so he could see him more clearly. 

He silently told his libido he’d rail the man later and to stop being ‘so fucking desperate for Stilinski ass,’ as Stiles often put it. Jokingly, of course. Derek knew Stiles was as into their sex life as he was. 

The recap was finished a good five minutes before the client and his team logged on, along with the rest of Derek’s own colleagues, so that the call had a total of nine people. He could tell virtually everyone on his side was at the office, and he assumed his boss had offered the Zoom option because of Derek himself not being there. 

He doubted the client had complained, it was probably preferable for him not having to head over to their office, even though it was only a few blocks away. 

After exchanging pleasant greetings, Derek uncapping his pen and sitting poised to take notes on things he needed to keep track of, the meeting got underway. He knew it wouldn’t be long, meetings with this client rarely were. He knew what he wanted, and how he wanted it, so it was more him talking and the rest listening. They only really piped in to clarify specifics or when something he wanted wasn’t possible to achieve. 

Every time Derek looked at the screen, he noticed that people were staring at their own rather strangely. One of his colleagues actually had their head cocked, a frown on their face, and every now and then he could tell the client was losing their train of thought before finding it again. 

It was kind of an odd meeting, if he was honest, but just as he thought it was maybe wrapping up, the client interrupted himself mid-sentence. 

“I’m really sorry. Derek?”

“Yes sir?” 

“I’ve been trying to ignore it, but—who is that?”

Derek blinked at the screen, confused. “I’m sorry?” 

“That.” The client pointed at his screen, then seemed to remember Derek wouldn’t know any better with that action. “The person in the background.”

It took a second for Derek to realize that people could see Stiles behind him. He hadn’t actually thought about the fact that his watching his boyfriend earlier was specifically because he could see him. Which meant everyone else could, too.

The wolf in him tried to snarl but he shoved it back down. Stiles was fully dressed right now, and they could see him because he was behind Derek. It was nothing to get territorial about, everything was fine. 

He’d have preferred they not see him, because Derek was selfish that way and wanted to keep Stiles all to himself, but he obediently turned in his chair, as if to check for who the client was talking about. Really, he was using it as an excuse to stare at Stiles, trying to stop the fond smile attempting to take over his face when he saw Stiles balancing on one foot on top of his entertainment centre. He looked to be attempting some kind of karate pose, like a kick or something. 

Forcing himself not to get distracted—an impossible feat where Stiles was involved—he turned back to face the computer and answered. 

“Oh, that’s my boyfriend. I had to borrow his computer for this meeting.” 

“I see,” the client said slowly. A part of Derek wondered if maybe he’d just fucked up and the guy was homophobic, but he didn’t care so much. If the man didn’t like that Derek was dating another man, that was his problem, not Derek’s. His personal life was none of the client’s business. 

It became clear a moment later that his response wasn’t an issue, because before long, the man pressed his lips together, squinted, and leaned closer to the screen—and consequently, the camera. 

“What exactly is he doing?”

“He does that sometimes,” Derek said, waving it off. He wasn’t going to talk about private things in a meeting full of people he worked with. “You were saying?” 

It took a few seconds for everyone to get themselves back on track, but Derek did notice a lot of squinting and leaning closer to the screen from everyone in the meeting. He heard a few bangs behind him every now and then, suggesting Stiles was doing some kind of flying leap off the entertainment centre. 

At one point, he heard a bang and saw one of his colleagues wince before Stiles said, “Ow.” 

It took everything Derek had not to whip around to check on him, but his eyes did shoot to his own screen to see what was happening behind him. Stiles was pouting while rubbing at his elbow before walking out of sight. Derek hoped the meeting ended soon, because he was already bracing to stand up and follow. 

“I think that should be do-able. Derek? Thoughts?” 

He hadn’t heard a single word since Stiles’ small mutter of pain, but if his boss said it was fine, it should be fine. 

“Absolutely,” he agreed. 

“Excellent. Well then, I think that about wraps it up. Thank you for your time, everyone. Especially you, Derek. I appreciate your presence during your time off.”

“Not at all, sir.” 

“Until next time. Enjoy your vacation and your uh—boyfriend’s antics.”

“Thank you,” Derek said, and waited for the client to log off before immediately leaving the meeting and then jerking to his feet. 

He strode quickly though the apartment to the kitchen, which was where he’d heard Stiles head off to. He was making coffee, because of course he was, but he was still rubbing at his elbow. 

Derek reached out one hand to touch his bare forearm and pulled at his pain. It was slight, almost nothing, but that just made him sigh with relief. 

Stiles turned at the action, and smiled at him. “How was the meeting?” 

“Fine. Are you okay?” 

Rolling his eyes, Stiles grabbed for his coffee and then leaned back against the counter, taking a huge swallow. Derek was positive he’d burned himself, but Stiles kept a straight face, likely because he was used to burning himself downing coffee. 

“It barely hurt.” 

“You said ow.” 

“I say ow when I bang my shoe into something and didn’t even hurt myself. I’m fine.” Stiles shoved at one of Derek’s shoulders. “Now get out of here so I can work.” 

Derek couldn’t help the small smile starting to form on his lips. “Am I distracting you?” 

“I swear to God, Derek, I will go on a year long vacation somewhere you can never find me. I have a deadline.” Stiles pointed his index finger at him. “You’re not pheromoning me into a break right now! Our breaks are not ten minute quickies!” 

Honestly, how were ten minute quickies even a possibility for humans? How unsatisfying. 

But, he’d already told himself he wouldn’t do that to Stiles, so he obediently kissed his boyfriend’s temple and retreated, turning to head for the door. 

“Lock the door.” 

“I always do. See you for dinner.” 

Derek hummed his agreement and left the apartment. He waited outside the door until he heard Stiles wander over to lock it before heading back for his own apartment. Since he still had the rest of the day to kill, he figured maybe he’d get groceries and make something interesting for dinner. He didn’t often have the chance to spend time on making an extravagant dinner, given his work schedule, and Stiles hated cooking—even though he still did it sometimes—so Derek figured now was the perfect opportunity. 

3. Some People Don’t Appreciate a Good Artist.

“Come and get your boyfriend.”

Derek frowned in confusion as he sat waiting for the light to change, Boyd’s voice echoing around him through the car’s speakers. 

“What?” 

“You need to come pick up your boyfriend right now.”

Panic shot through Derek at those words, and when the light turned green, he floored it, even though he had no idea where Boyd was right now. 

“What happened? Is he okay?” 

“He’s a bad influence.”

That, at least, had the panic subside slightly, but it didn’t disappear entirely. 

“Where are you?” 

“The mall. Second floor, shop beside the food court. Get here fast.”

When Boyd hung up, Derek frowned slightly, his music cutting back on now that the call had ended. He couldn’t fathom what was going on or why Boyd was asking him to come and get Stiles. 

Or why Stiles was at the mall with Boyd to begin with. He didn’t leave the house very much, not that Derek was complaining about that. The most Stiles did was go for runs, or to the store. He was a surprisingly big homebody for someone Derek considered to be an extrovert. Was it possible to be an extrovert and a homebody? He didn’t know, he just knew Stiles liked being home. 

When he got caught at another red light, he tapped his fingers impatiently against his steering wheel, checking the time to see how much had passed since the call. He didn’t know why Stiles was out with Boyd—and presumably Erica—but he was positive he wouldn’t have gone out if he knew Derek was on his way home from work. 

He’d left early because he always put in free overtime, and it was a Friday. He didn’t have anything pressing to work on, so he figured he’d allow himself a few hours off. His boss wouldn’t care, he knew how hard Derek worked, and it wasn’t like he did this all the time. 

When he finally turned into the mall’s parking lot, he couldn’t help the scowl as he started making his way through the busy area. Did nobody work anymore? Why was the place so packed he couldn’t even find a free spot? This was ridiculous. 

He acknowledged that people were probably wondering why he wasn’t working, but he was just off early! There was no way all of these people were also off early! He hated crowds, this was the worst. 

But, his boyfriend needed him—he assumed, considering Boyd’s comment—so he wasn’t going to abandon him. 

Though he did wonder what he was about to walk into. With Stiles, it was hard to tell. 

After what felt like an age, he finally saw someone heading towards a car with bags in hand. He hoped they were leaving and not just dropping the bags off before heading back inside, and was rewarded for his patience five minutes later when the car pulled out of the spot. He saw someone else turn down the wrong way to snatch it, but since he was waiting right beside the spot, blinker on and everything, he managed to turn into it before the thief reached him. 

Levelling the asshole who’d tried to steal his spot with a cool look as he stepped out, the other man turned away, seeming to grumble to himself, and continued on his search. Derek felt pretty smug about it, because he hated people who broke rules to get what they wanted, and it was immeasurably satisfying when it blew up in their faces. 

Making sure his car was locked up, he shoved his keys into his pocket and headed for one of the entrances to the mall. It was warm and muggy out, which made entering a relief as the cool air of the air conditioner inside the mall hit his skin. 

He didn’t often come to the mall, since it wasn’t his scene, so he had to follow signs for the food court, heading for one of the escalators to go to the second level. Continuing on his way, he ended up finding the place and looked around. Boyd had said they were in the store beside the food court, but there were a lot of them, and none of them caught his attention as a place Stiles would go. 

Pulling his phone out, he texted Boyd to ask where they were. 

[Derek]
i;m here where u at? 

He waited for a response, watching his screen, and heard a high-pitched whistle. A few people turned, obviously wondering about the sound, and Derek followed suit. He frowned when he found Boyd standing at the entrance to Victoria’s Secret, motioning for him to come over. 

Wasn’t he there to pick up Stiles? Why were they in a lingerie store?

Shoving his phone back into his pocket, he headed over to his friend, who looked both tired and defeated. Derek couldn’t help arching a silent eyebrow at him, and Boyd just shook his head, motioning inside. 

Confused, Derek obediently walked into the store. He ignored all the women milling about, grabbing at things and checking them out before twittering with each other. A few sales associates were wandering through the throng of people, giving advice or trying to upsell, but Derek ignored all of them. He just looked around until he found a head of blonde curls and headed in that direction, Boyd trailing behind him. He heard his friend sigh in defeat, but didn’t really understand until he reached Erica. 

She had many bags at her feet, obviously having splurged and already paid for all the things she’d wanted, but Derek’s eyes didn’t linger there for long. He really only glanced down for a split second, before his attention was caught by what Erica was doing. 

His friend was in the process of taking photos, and it took him no time at all to catch sight of what her subject matter was. 

“I still think the other one looks better,” Erica said, still snapping photos with not her phone. 

“I don’t know, this one feels like it’d work more.” 

“I don’t like the colour.” 

“I can change the colour,” Stiles insisted, rolling his eyes. “I don’t need to worry about anything but how it looks, the rest I can tweak.” 

Boyd appeared beside Derek, and when he glanced at his friend, the other man motioned their mates in a clear, “See what I’ve been dealing with?” sort of way. 

Derek turned back to what he was looking at, and what he was looking at—was Stiles in lingerie. He was wearing what looked like some kind of bodice piece, complete with sheer bra and leaving very little to the imagination downstairs. Thankfully he still had his boxer-briefs on beneath the revealing outfit, but it did nothing to hide his impressive bulge. 

He didn’t know why Stiles was wearing women’s underwear, but he wasn’t mad about it either. 

“I still like the other one better,” Erica insisted, taking a few more pictures. “You should probably ask the author which one they prefer.” 

“This isn’t for an independent, it’s for your favourite company,” Stiles informed her, rearranging himself rather crudely. A few women walking around in the changing room area were giving him looks, and Derek felt his protectiveness spike at some of the appreciative glances his boyfriend was getting. 

“Well, I have good pictures of both, so you can decide when you start drawing.” 

“I guess so, would be better if—oh, hey Derek!” Stiles had finally noticed him, and he beamed brightly at him, not at all concerned about how much skin he was showing off in public. “What’re you doing here? Is your day over already?” 

“I left early,” Derek informed him. “Probably my lucky day, or I’d have missed out on the fun.” 

“This is perfect,” Erica said, motioning between Derek and Stiles. “Derek is like, the best person in the world to tell you which one looks better, so change back into the other one.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes, grumbling that lingerie was hard to get in and out of, but he obediently turned to head back into a dressing room, shutting the door behind himself. 

Boyd moved around Derek to Erica, snatching Stiles’ phone from her hand, and turning to hand it to Derek. “We’re leaving before he causes more damage to my bank account.” 

“Our bank account,” Erica insisted, affronted. “It’s our account!” 

“You just spent all the money in it that belonged to you, it’s mine now,” Boyd informed her, bending down to grab her bags before straightening. He levelled Derek with another look. “Good luck. Don’t ever let him and Erica go shopping together again.” 

“Bye Stiles!” Erica called cheerfully, even as Boyd shifted all the bags he held into one hand and used the other to guide her out of the store. “Make sure you share the finished product with me!” 

“Will do,” Stiles’ voice said through the closed door. 

Derek still wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, but he moved up to the door and knocked lightly on it, knowing Stiles would clue in that it was just him. As expected, his boyfriend opened the door and Derek slipped inside, shutting it behind himself. 

It was fairly cramped in the space, but Derek didn’t want Stiles wandering out in the open again with so little clothing on. He’d already mostly changed out, having removed the bodice piece and replaced it with a pair of underwear with thigh-high socks and garters. He was currently in the process of trying to get the bra on, having turned it around so the hooks were at the front, allowing him easier access to them before twisting it back around properly and putting his arms through the straps. 

“Well?” he asked, splaying his hands out. “What do you think? Which is better?” 

“Lingerie is a waste of money, I’d just rip it off you,” Derek informed him. 

“I wouldn’t waste money on this,” Stiles insisted, rolling his eyes and dropping his arms. “I’m not a lingerie kinda guy anyway. It’s too itchy.” He emphasized his point by scratching at his balls, despite the fact he was still wearing his shorts beneath the underwear. 

Probably a good thing, it would be horrifically unhygienic of him to go bare. 

“It’s for a cover.” 

“You don’t say,” Derek deadpanned, which earned him a smack from Stiles. 

“Asshole. Help me choose the better one, I wanna get out of here, I need coffee.” 

“When don’t you?” Derek teased, moving forward and letting his hands wrap around Stiles’ hips. He couldn’t deny the lingerie was a good look on him, but he still felt it’d be a waste of money. He preferred Stiles fully naked, so spending money on something Derek would rip off him if he got impatient enough was stupid. 

Then again, Stiles himself had already said he wasn’t interested, so he supposed it was a moot point anyway. He looked really good though. 

“Must be some book, if you came all the way here to try on underwear.” 

“The publisher actually gave me direction, for once. It’s one of their gay romances, and I was whining at Erica about not finding any good pictures of men in lingerie online, so she said we should just go take our own.” 

“I’m sure there are plenty of pictures available online if you look hard enough.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes again, not even noticing that Derek had slowly been backing him up against the wall of the small stall. 

“I didn’t say there weren’t any, I said there weren’t any good ones.” 

“Mm, my mistake.” Derek leaned in to kiss at the left side of Stiles’ neck, teeth dragging against his pulse. 

The action had Stiles pause, and he seemed to realize the predicament he was in. He immediately started shoving at Derek’s chest, trying to push him away. 

“No!” he insisted loudly, then repeated the word about thirty times faster than Derek ever thought possible. “Derek, we are in public! I am wearing tight underwear overtop my actual underwear, and you need to control yourself!” 

“How can I control myself when my boyfriend is wearing lace?” 

“Get out. Right now. I mean it.” Stiles was still shoving at his chest. “When we get home, you can fuck me all you want. Right now, I am changing out of this outfit and we are leaving!” 

Much as he enjoyed teasing Stiles, he acknowledged that fucking in a Victoria’s Secret fitting room stall at just shy of five in the evening on a Friday probably wasn’t a good idea. Not to mention if they got caught, other people would see his boyfriend’s goods, and that was absolutely unacceptable. 

Sighing in defeat against Stiles’ throat, he bit another hickey into him before pulling away fully and moving backwards until he was leaning back against the door, crossing his arms. 

“Get out,” Stiles informed him. Derek tried not to feel smug at the fact that he could see Stiles beginning to sport a bit of a stiffy. He absolutely loved the pheromones that made Stiles go crazy like this. 

“It’s not like I’ve never seen you naked before.” 

“I’m not naked, and I don’t trust you to keep your hands to yourself!” 

Derek made a big show of shoving his hands into his pockets, and while Stiles scowled at him, he seemed to recognize this was a losing battle and just got to work pulling the lingerie off. Derek was kind enough to help him undo the bra, since Stiles struggled with it for a good minute and a half before giving up. 

When everything was back where it belonged, and Stiles’ incredibly sexy body was hidden back beneath layers of clothing, Derek pulled away from the door and turned to unlock it. He pulled it open and motioned Stiles out first, who obediently exited and hung the lingerie he’d been trying on up onto a return rack. 

One of the women working the fitting room paused at the sight of both Stiles and Derek exiting the stall, but she said nothing and Derek just smiled to himself, wrapping one arm around Stiles’ shoulders as they headed out of the store. 

“We should eat,” Stiles said, starting to veer them towards the food court. “And get coffee. I need coffee.”

“I repeat: when don’t you?” He stopped Stiles before they moved too far into the food court. “We have food at home.” 

“We do,” Stiles agreed. “But you know what I also have at home?” He turned to level Derek with an unimpressed look. “A boyfriend who will rip the clothes right off me the second we’re through the door.” 

“I’d wait until we got into the bedroom,” Derek countered. 

“I’m not going home without food, you’ll immediately tie me to the bed, and I’ll starve to death while getting my brains fucked right out of me.” 

Derek wanted to be amused at the startled look those words earned him from two women walking by, but he was more interested in smirking at Stiles. 

“Fine. First we eat, and you get your coffee. Then we go home, and enjoy a good time together until morning.” 

Stiles sputtered incredulously. “Until morning?!” he demanded, clearly understanding that Derek meant they would be fucking many more times than just the one, or even two. Derek had never gone three rounds before, but if anyone could handle it, he was sure Stiles could. 

“Your fault for teasing me with lingerie.”

“You’re a menace,” Stiles informed him while looking around for a good place to eat, and presumably for good coffee. “I never should’ve interacted with you. My mistake.” 

“Best mistake you ever made.” Derek kissed his temple and let his boyfriend lead the way to sustenance. 

4. Portals to Hell Aren’t Real.

“You realize we’re already dating right?” Stiles asked him as Derek waited for him to exit the Camaro before clicking a button on his key to lock the doors. “You don’t have to butter me up to get in my pants.” 

“I have to do very little to get into your pants,” Derek informed him with a smirk. 

Stiles just flipped him off as he came around the car and leaned into Derek, the Werewolf automatically wrapping one arm around his shoulders as they headed for their destination. 

Derek wasn’t really big on milestones, but he felt like he might change his mind on it before long. Having Stiles in his life made him want to celebrate all of them, but he’d managed to resist long enough to make it to six months. Six months was a good number right? Half a year, that was good, no? Not too much, but not so little that he was ignoring the milestone, right? 

Stiles didn’t seem to be angsting about it as much as he was. He was just happy they weren’t cooking and was chattering away about the steak he was going to get. Derek could understand, given neither of them had balconies and thus couldn’t grill anything on a regular basis. When they went to his dad’s place, Stiles tended to stay away from steak because his dad couldn’t have any, and he wasn’t an asshole who’d flaunt that in front of his father. 

It was kind of why Derek had chosen this restaurant. It was the only steakhouse in the city, and despite it being expensive as all hell, spoiling Stiles every now and then was warranted. Besides, he was pretty sure they’d be fighting for the bill before the night was through, since both of them liked spoiling the other. 

Stiles would argue that Derek had chosen the restaurant, so Stiles got to pay. Derek would argue back that seeing as he was the person asking Stiles on a date, he got to pay. 

It was a toss up as to who would win, but Derek liked to think it would be him. 

“Good evening,” the man at the front said as they entered, offering them both a smile. “Welcome. Do you have a reservation?” 

Derek nodded and said, “Under Derek.” 

The host took a look at his podium, presumably at the reservations, then nodded once and pulled out two menus. He reached up to press against a small black box attached to the earpiece he had in and quietly requested a server come to collect two patrons, along with where to seat them. 

A woman showed up not two seconds later, smiling brightly at them. 

“Amber will show you to your seats,” the host said, handing her the two menus he’d grabbed. “Enjoy your evening.” 

“Thank you,” Stiles said with a brilliant smile. Derek just nodded back in silent thanks, one hand shifting up to splay between Stiles’ shoulder blades as they followed the server towards their table. 

She motioned it with a cheery wave and they both took their seats. Derek only half-listened as she listed off the specials and the wine list, then said their server would be with them momentarily. Derek had kind of assumed she was their server, but didn’t dwell on it. 

Stiles was wiggling slightly in his seat, eyes scanning everything on the menu and looking more excited for this than Derek had seen him since the last time his favourite coffee had been on sale. 

He really did drink an obscene amount of coffee, but it was hard for Derek to make him stop. Every time he brought it up, Stiles wordlessly walked into the pantry and opened Derek’s cupboards, where he had a, quite frankly embarrassing, overabundance of cereal. 

Hard to argue with that logic, really. 

“What’re you thinking?” Derek asked. 

“There’s so many choices,” Stiles insisted, eyes still looking up and down, back and forth. “Might get the big platter. Sounds like a good choice.” 

Derek located it on the menu, reading it over and laughed a little. “Stiles, you won’t be able to finish that.” 

“Is that a challenge?” Stiles asked, raising his eyebrows while lifting his gaze to Derek. “I eat way more meat than this on a daily basis.” 

He was not impressed with Stiles’ impish little grin. “You know, you always get mad at me when I start something, but you always instigate it.” 

“I get fake mad, and I’m a shit by nature, you know this.” Stiles looked back at the menu. “Besides, whatever I don’t eat, you will. Win-win.” 

That was true, and it meant Derek could get something else. He was kind of eying the lobster ravioli, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Stiles would not finish that meal. It had both steak and bacon-wrapped chicken, along with mashed potatoes, peas, carrots and a thick mushroom gravy sauce. He’d probably get through a third of that food, so really, it worked out well for him. He could have two things he wanted while only having to order one of them. 

Stiles jumped when their server appeared beside them, introducing himself and giving them another rundown of the specials. Derek ordered a glass of wine, but Stiles asked for a beer since he still wasn’t big on wine. Since they were ready to order their food, they gave those orders as well and the man left them. 

He was back within five minutes with their drinks, Stiles and Derek in the middle of a debate about which Bruce Willis movie was the best. He and Stiles would never agree on anything movie-related, but that was what made their arguments about them so fun. Derek loved that they could have these debates like this over nothing of importance. 

Actually, he and Stiles had never had a proper fight in all the time they’d been dating. Sometimes it terrified Derek, but other times he attributed it to the two of them keeping their own places. They spent more time together than not, but they still had the option of separation when one of them went back to their own place. Maybe that was the success of a good relationship: having space when it was needed.

Or maybe he and Stiles just hadn’t had anything to fight about. Derek didn’t count that first meeting they’d ever had, since it wasn’t Stiles he’d been fighting with, and it was a misunderstanding. It still bothered him that his first real introduction to Stiles was smashing through his door, but in his defence, the wolf had kind of taken over. 

He may not have known at the time Stiles was his mate, but it wasn’t like it had taken long to figure it out. His wolf had made it pretty obvious, and the picture he’d helped Stiles take when he’d thrown him onto his bed? Still not one of his finer moments, but how was he meant to control himself in a situation like that?! It didn’t help that Stiles had absolutely reeked of arousal himself at the time, how could anyone fault him for reacting like he had? 

Stiles hadn’t been upset about it, thankfully, so Derek forced himself to stop thinking about it, looking over the top of his menu at his boyfriend, and smiling to himself. Stiles was still wiggling in his seat while looking around, menu closed and on the table. Derek figured he was just looking forward to a good meal, so he put his own menu down as well. He already knew what he wanted, no point in delaying Stiles’ full stomach any further. 

Their waiter came by before Derek had even opened his mouth to ask Stiles a question, like the man had just been watching and waiting for them to show signs they were ready. Stiles ordered the platter, just as he’d said, and the waiter paused, eying him briefly before glancing at Derek. He could only assume the man had determined there was no way Stiles could finish that meal, but he said nothing and just wrote it down before turning to Derek. 

“I’ll have the lobster ravioli, please.” Derek handed his menu over, the man nodding while jotting it down before taking the menu. 

“A good choice. Our ravioli is made in-house.” 

“Nice,” Stiles said with a grin. “I’ll have to steal a bite. You know I love hot cream.” 

Derek levelled him with a look for that, because Stiles really didn’t make his life easy. Stiles himself just grinned while the server took his menu and then left them, heading out to put their orders in. 

“You’re impossible. I feel like I can’t take you anywhere.” 

“I’m adorable, and you love me.” 

“You can be both adorable and impossible,” Derek informed him. 

Stiles waggled his eyebrows at him, then shifted in his seat to stand as Derek took a sip of his wine. His eyes followed his boyfriend, the other man motioning across the restaurant. 

“I need to use the bathroom. Be right back.” 

Derek hummed in understanding, setting his wine back down as Stiles walked away from him. Since he was alone, he pulled his phone out and opened his messages, reading through a few of them, but only replying to Boyd and Kira for the moment. Cora could wait, since she was annoying. 

Laura could wait too, because she was worse. 

He got through all of his messages relatively quickly, and then opened one of his many puzzle games to entertain himself while he waited. 

Honestly, sometimes he wondered how they’d grown up without smart phones. He knew back in the day, when he was a child, he would bring colouring books or an actual book or something like that for entertainment, but it was so strange to think about in this day and age. He was literally playing a puzzle game on his phone. Those used to be bricks when he was a teenager, and now they could stream shows and browse the internet. 

Technology was wild. 

He’d just finished another level when he tensed, managing not to startle entirely at the figure that appeared beside him. He turned to glance over at whoever it was, and frowned when he noticed it was their server. 

The man looked a little uncomfortable, like he was trying to figure out how to share terrible news. Were they out of lobster or something? Derek was sure he could get something else if that was the case, he didn’t know why the man looked so out of sorts. 

“I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t think he’s coming back.” 

Derek stared at the man for an exceptionally long time, trying to figure out what the fuck that meant in relation to their dinner. 

“Excuse me?” he asked, trying to make the words make sense in his brain. 

“Your er—companion. I don’t think he’s coming back.” 

Derek just stared at him some more, the waiter looking supremely uncomfortable at being scrutinized so thoroughly, but Derek couldn’t help it. He had no idea what he was talking about. 

“I don’t understand.” 

And that was definitely a full body sigh, the waiter looking around, as if for help, and then turning to face Derek once more. He looked sympathetic, but also like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world. 

“Your dinner mate has been gone for almost twenty minutes. Your meal is almost ready, just the finishing touches left, but I didn’t want you to be left with a bill for something no one would eat. We have someone else with the same order as your guest, I thought perhaps I would give you the opportunity to...” he trailed off, motioning with one hand, as if for Derek to fill in the rest. 

It took him a few seconds, but mostly because he had absolutely no idea what the fuck was going on—until he did. 

The man had said that Stiles had been gone almost twenty minutes. It made sense, if their food was almost ready, since Stiles’ platter at least probably took about that long to make. And the waiter was giving him a chance to cancel Stiles’ dish since someone else had ordered it, thus saving Derek the money. 

Which was hilarious because Stiles had definitely not bailed on him. Derek wasn’t sure why he was still in the bathroom, but he was positive he’d find out. 

“No, please don’t cancel it. Bring it out when it’s ready.” Derek stood from his seat, motioning the table. “I’ll be right back.” 

It looked like the waiter wanted to say something, but he just let Derek walk away from him. Derek heard him muttering about ‘poor fools’ under his breath, since he clearly thought Stiles was a bad date who’d run out on him, but sadly, it was far more likely to be something less dramatic. 

Like Stiles slipping and falling into the toilet. It was Stiles, he punched himself as a defence mechanism, Derek would not be surprised one iota if he walked in to Stiles half-buried in a toilet. 

Pushing open the unnecessarily large door into the men’s bathroom, he only walked two steps into it when he caught sight of Stiles. 

He was standing a little to the left, closer to the stalls and opposite the sink. He had his back to a wall that was covered floor to ceiling in a mirror, and was angled slightly so he could take a picture of something across from him. 

Derek moved forward to look down the short corridor at what he was taking a picture of and realized it was a mirror. Stiles was taking a photo of himself in a mirror through another mirror. Like one of those endless images because of the reflections. He had his tongue stuck between his teeth, and kept shifting around, as if trying to find the sweet spot for the perfect shot. 

“Isn’t this known as a vortex to ghost hunters?” Derek asked, since he’d heard about that from one of his coworkers. She was an avid fan of a YouTuber who went out exploring and hunting ghosts, so he knew far more about the topic than he cared to admit. 

Stiles jumped at the sound of his voice, but he recovered quickly, shifting his gaze away from his phone’s screen and to Derek’s face, grinning brilliantly. 

“Derek, look!” He thrust his phone in Derek’s face, almost smashing it right into his nose. He managed to avoid getting punched by his boyfriend’s enthusiasm and squinted at the picture slightly since it was too close. “Why didn’t I ever think of this before? Look at this shot! This is an amazing shot!” 

Derek grabbed at Stiles’ wrist, taking a step back, and forced the other man to lower his hand slightly so that he could actually see the photo he was trying to show him. Stiles looked so fucking proud of himself that Derek was more enraptured with his expression than the actual shot. 

“It’s nice,” he said, offering Stiles a smile while releasing his wrist. “Really artistic.” 

“Right?!” Stiles was back to the mirror corridor, tilting his phone this way and that in an attempt to get another shot. “I don’t know when I’ll use this, or where, but this is legit the coolest shot ever.” He paused, thinking. “It means I’d have to cheat though to make everything identical. Draw the image once and then mirror it repeatedly smaller and smaller.” He squinted at his own reflection in thought. “Or I could always try and draw it a million times. Is that crazy? Probably.” 

“Mm,” Derek agreed, still standing by the sinks, hands in his pockets. He let Stiles take a few more pictures, watching him endearingly, before remembering their food was going to be out any minute. “Our waiter thinks you bailed on me.” 

It took a few seconds for Stiles’ brain to compute what Derek had said, but when it clicked, he whipped around to look at him, eyes wide and confused. 

“What? Why?” He sounded so horrified at the very notion that Derek couldn’t help smiling. 

It was ridiculous, and hilarious for anyone to think Stiles would run out on him. To be fair, they didn’t know Stiles like he did. He may not have known exactly what he was walking into when he opened the bathroom door, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Stiles would be in there. 

“Because you’ve been in here for twenty minutes.” 

Stiles blinked at him. “What? No I haven’t.” He got out of the camera on his phone to check the time, then paused. He stared at his screen for an exceptionally long time, like he was either trying to come to terms with the loss of twenty minutes of his life, or he was calculating backwards how long he’d actually been in the bathroom. 

Eventually, he jerked slightly, as if he’d been shocked, and turned back to Derek, horrified. “Oh shit, our food!” 

When he made to rush past Derek, he grabbed at his boyfriend’s arm to stop him from racing out of the bathroom in such a fancy restaurant. He was the sheriff’s kid, everyone knew him, and while he knew the sheriff wouldn’t care, it would still be nice if his son didn’t disturb the peace and cause a scene by hightailing it back to their table. 

“Don’t worry, it’s not out yet. They were putting the finishing touches on it before coming to see me since you hadn’t come back yet. They didn’t want me to pay for something you wouldn’t be eating.” 

“Wha—I am eating it!” Stiles argued. 

Derek laughed, letting his arm go, and turned to pull open the bathroom door, motioning Stiles out. “I know. But they didn’t know you were coming back. Honestly, having my date gone for twenty minutes, I’m not surprised they think you bailed on me.” 

“I didn’t mean it,” Stiles insisted, motioning behind himself. “It was the mirrors! It’s their fault for the mirrors!” 

“Mm hm,” Derek said, moving a step faster so he was beside Stiles, kissing his temple lightly while they walked back to their table. “I’ll be sure to let them know their mirrors are distracting to simple-minded people.” 

Stiles elbowed him before blowing a raspberry almost right in his face. He fell heavily into his seat, Derek re-taking his across from him. He couldn’t help the small smile that formed on his lips at the surprised look on the waiter’s face at seeing Stiles back at the table. 

Derek didn’t mind, he kind of found it funny. Nobody knew Stiles like he did. 

Except maybe his dad. 

5. Always Check With Your Boyfriend Before Inviting Friends Over.

“I really appreciate this, Derek.” 

“Of course, it’s no problem, really. I told you I can stay with my boyfriend, and it’s only for one night.” 

“Still, this was last minute.” 

Derek pulled into his spot in the garage and cut the engine, turning to look at Braeden. Her expression was neutral, but he could see the tightness around her eyes that showed how uncomfortable she still was about this whole situation. 

“Braeden, I see you three times a year, and it’s not your fault your flight got cancelled. I’ve got the space, there’s no point in you paying for a hotel room.” 

“I don’t want to impose.” 

“You’re not imposing, I invited you.” Derek opened his door and climbed out, hearing his friend sigh behind him before she followed suit. He smiled privately to himself at how dramatic she was being, even though all she’d done was sigh. For Braeden, that was dramatic. He just shook his head while popping the trunk, pulling her suitcase out of the back and slinging his satchel over his shoulder before shutting it once more and leading the way to the alcove with the elevator. 

Braeden had just been passing through town, as she often did while heading off to events she was speaking at. Derek had never understood how someone who was so shy during presentations in university had turned into a motivational speaker, but he really admired her. 

Of course, almost being maimed by a Werewolf when she was twelve and then growing up surrounded by Werewolves probably should’ve clued him in that she would become someone formidable one day, but it still always surprised him when he saw how confident she’d become when speaking to a large crowd. 

She’d had a panel that morning, which he’d taken time off work to attend, and then they’d gone out for coffee. She never spent a lot of time in town, so they took the few hours they could get between her events and her flight out, but they’d just been finishing up so she could head to the airport when she got an email advising her flight had been cancelled. 

Realistically, all the flights had been cancelled. Derek hadn’t really looked into it, but there was allegedly some kind of power failure at the airport and planes were being re-directed so the one she would be taking to her next destination hadn’t actually landed. 

They’d re-booked her for a flight first thing in the morning, since she had another event tomorrow afternoon. The event coordinator she’d been on the phone with had spent almost the whole drive back to Derek’s place rearranging her whole schedule, since she was usually one of the first speakers, but given her delay, it wasn’t possible anymore.

Honestly, a small, selfish part of Derek was glad for the cancellation. He rarely ever got to see her, and while they still spoke often, it wasn’t the same as when he’d been around her all the time in New York. 

He was as close to her as he was Kira. The separation from Kira when he and his sisters had moved to New York had sucked, and while they spoke daily, it wasn’t the same. He was now experiencing the same feeling the other way around, with his best friend from New York. It sucked that they lived so far apart, but he also knew even if he still lived in New York, she was rarely ever around, so he would cherish this time with her while he could. 

“Is your boyfriend the jealous type?” Braeden asked as they stepped into the elevator, Derek hitting the fourth floor. 

“No,” Derek admitted. “He’s human.” 

“Humans can get jealous too,” Braeden insisted with a teasing smile, nudging him lightly. “Being jealous and being territorial are two different things.” 

“He knows how Werewolf mates work, so I don’t think he’s ever going to be jealous.” Derek would love to see that, though. Not because he wanted to make Stiles upset, but just because—having Stiles be all over him in an attempt to keep his attention sounded like a good time. 

He’d never intentionally do anything to make Stiles jealous though. And honestly, he didn’t know if Stiles would ever be jealous. As dramatic and flaily as he could be sometimes, he was too level-headed to look at a situation and think Derek was flirting or something. That was one of the things he loved about their relationship. 

Complete trust. He trusted Stiles implicitly, and he knew Stiles trusted him. It worked well for them. 

When he reached his apartment door, Braeden’s suitcase wheeled along behind him, he could hear Stiles speaking through the door, suggesting he’d come over when he knew Derek would be home. He was probably yelling at the TV, it was one of those endearing things Stiles did. 

Sighing, Derek tried the knob, and was pleasantly surprised to find it locked, for once. Stiles was actually taking his security seriously, though he claimed he always did, Derek just didn’t believe him. 

Pulling his key out, he unlocked the door and had just pushed it open in time to hear a woman’s voice. 

“Stiles, that is extremely inappropriate.” 

“I’m not telling you to cop a feel, I can pull the boxers off.” 

“That isn’t better, you realize that, right?” 

Derek practically heard Braeden’s eyebrows hit her hairline, but he didn’t slow on his way into the apartment, walking towards the living room where the voices were coming from, morbidly curious about what the fuck was going on. 

He stopped by the kitchen counter, trying to stop the amused smile from forming, mostly because Braeden would probably get scared if she saw such a soft look on his face. 

Frankly, he still had no idea what was going on, but he wasn’t mad about it. 

“Stiles, I am not touching your junk.”

“Correct,” his boyfriend proclaimed loudly, brandishing one paint-covered finger at his female companion. “You will be grabbing my crotch through my boxers! Or I can take them off.” 

Kira sighed deeply, putting all her regret into that one breath, then turned to look at Derek. “I shouldn’t have come over. I know better now.” 

Stiles frowned, then turned, then beamed when he realized Derek was home. 

“Derek! You’re back! I wasn’t expecting you back so early, weren’t you going back to work after your friend’s thing?” 

“I was, but her flight got cancelled, so I took the rest of the day off.” Derek half-smiled, motioning Braeden when she stepped up beside him. “Braeden, this is Stiles.” 

“Hello!” Stiles waved enthusiastically. Derek wondered if he’d find paint in weird places. “Sorry, I’d come shake your hand, but well...” he trailed off, holding both of them up. 

“I forgive you,” Braeden said, clearly amused.

Kira just sighed again. 

She was wearing what looked like a bikini, her hair up in a messy bun, and coloured handprints from paint over various parts of her body. Stiles himself was in his boxers, also covered in paint handprints, evidently from Kira’s hands since hers were painted red and Stiles’ were blue. 

They’d also laid a huge tarp on the floor, for which Derek was grateful, because getting that paint out of his hardwood would’ve sucked. He’d have asked why they were doing this in his apartment instead of Stiles’, but figured it was because of the layout. 

Derek didn’t have as much furniture as Stiles did, and it was easier to move out of the way. Stiles probably could’ve done this at his place, but it would’ve been a lot harder and meant a lot more shuffling of furniture. 

He didn’t mind anyway, he was more interested in what they were doing. It was obviously for a piece of art Stiles was working on, but he had no idea how Kira had gotten roped into it, or why Stiles had been asking for her to grab his junk. 

“You can grab his junk, you know,” Derek said honestly. It didn’t bother him when it was Kira, for some reason. Probably because he knew she was asexual. “I won’t care.” 

Kira turned to level him with a murderous glare for that comment and Derek just smirked at her. “I will care. I’m not touching his dick.” 

“It’s covered!” Stiles insisted, motioning himself. “I need a handprint there for the art. Think of the artistic process!” 

“Think of my sanity,” Kira argued back dryly. “Stiles, I love you, but I’m not touching your dick. Have Derek do it.” 

“He’s got big man hands, I need dainty hands.” 

Kira did not look impressed at having her hands called dainty. Derek was just happy he caught the show, because this was entertaining as hell. 

“I’ll grab your dick.” 

Kira balked and Derek turned to arch an eyebrow at Braeden. She just shrugged indifferently, moving forward as Stiles beamed at her excitedly and went to find the can of red paint. 

“Really? Right in front of me?” Derek asked. 

“If you actually cared, I wouldn’t have offered.” 

“Touche.” Hard to argue with that logic. Like with Kira, Derek wasn’t worried, he knew Braeden wasn’t encroaching on his territory. And to Stiles, this was just art. He got choked out once for art, having someone grab him by the balls was no different from them posing for a photo to him. 

Stiles was interesting that way when he got really into a project. Derek kind of loved it, because he got this crazed look in his eye that was both hot and intriguing. He didn’t get like this often, but when he did, Derek loved it. 

He leaned against his counter as he watched Stiles hold out the red paint for Braeden. She dunked her hand into it as Kira moved to stand with Derek, still covered in blue paint and still sighing, like she was regretting ever becoming friends with Derek if this was where it led her. He just offered her a smile and she punched him in the arm. 

“Any particular way you want me to grab you?” 

“Nope, just don’t crush my balls, Derek likes those.” 

“I’ll bet he does,” Braeden said, and Derek let out a laugh when she just went for it. Stiles jumped, startled, and exhaled sharply, like he’d been expecting to get positively destroyed despite Braeden’s best efforts, but apparently she’d done well not to destroy any parts that belonged to Derek’s favourite appendage his boyfriend had. 

When she pulled her hand back, Stiles tugged at the edges of his boxers while looking down so he could check out the handprint, then beamed again. 

“This is perfect! Thank you so much!” 

“No problem,” Braeden said, a grin on her usually stoic face as she turned to Derek. “Nice.” 

Kira let out a sound of disgust and turned away from them, presumably heading to the bathroom to wash the paint off herself, since they appeared to be done. Stiles just looked adorably confused, but Derek himself inclined his head slightly, trying not to smirk. 

“Thanks.” Honestly, he really had lucked out when it came to Stiles, especially considering the size of his dick. 

+1. I Want To Come Home To You Like This Every Day.

Derek was exhausted. 

Actually, he was whatever existed past the state of exhaustion. He didn’t know what it was, but that was what he felt. 

Burnt out? Drained? Fatigued? Were those worse than exhausted? 

Whatever, he was all of those, and then some. 

He didn’t know why today had been so horrible, but it had been. Not in a legitimate horrible way, but more in a he-didn’t-even-have-time-to-use-the-bathroom-it-was-so-busy way. He’d literally worried about his bladder at one point, but thankfully had managed to get a break to go to the bathroom before his bladder literally exploded. 

And eating? Forget it. Derek hadn’t had time to eat until two hours after his day had ended. He’d just sat in his car in the parking lot scarfing down his lunch. It was a miracle he hadn’t gone feral on anyone at the office and eaten them, he was so hungry. 

This had never happened before, and he hoped it never fucking happened again. 

And to make matters worse, Stiles wasn’t home today. He’d gone on a camping trip with Jackson and Scott for the weekend, which Derek found odd when he really thought about it, because Stiles didn’t like being outside for extended periods of time. 

But he supposed it made sense. It was his friends, after all, and people often did things they didn’t want to do for their friends. Still, he was slightly annoyed he was gone this weekend, considering the day he’d had. 

Also it happened to be the anniversary of Derek’s move-in. He doubted Stiles had clued in, but Derek remembered this day quite fondly. He’d noticed Stiles immediately, the cute brunet across the way who slept at weird hours and drank way too much coffee. For him, this felt like the day they’d met, even though he knew it wasn’t. 

Still, it was special to him, in its own way. The beginning of this relationship he and Stiles had. It meant something, and he was honestly sad that Stiles wasn’t here to celebrate it with him. 

Then again, Derek also knew he could be a sentimental sap. It was something his sisters teased him about mercilessly, and probably the only reason he’d managed to wait until month six before taking Stiles out to dinner for a milestone. 

Sighing, he pushed his key into his lock and opened his front door, heading into his dark apartment. Locking the door behind him, he dropped his satchel onto the kitchen counter, ready to head for the fridge to grab more food, when he froze. 

He could hear a heartbeat in his apartment. He knew it was in his apartment, because he was incredibly attuned to how close the other people in the neighbouring units were. And besides, he could recognize the heartbeat, because it was one he’d know anywhere. He didn’t know why he was hearing it, but he hurried across the dark apartment to his bedroom and immediately hit the light switch. 

“Jesus fuck!” 

Derek stared.

He stared some more. 

He was pretty sure he’d be standing there staring all night. 

“That hurt,” Stiles muttered, clenching his eyes shut and shaking his head. “I wasn’t expecting that, warn a guy.” He paused. “At least I didn’t punch myself in the face, for once. I mean, obviously, considering.” 

Stiles was here. Why was Stiles here? 

“You went camping.” 

“Are you kidding me? Look at me, I’d get eaten alive by mosquitoes.” He paused, thinking. “And bears. And like, I don’t know, vultures? Do we have vultures in California. We must, right? Or are they more inclined to stick to like, barren wastelands the way TV portrays them? Now I want to know, can you look it up?” 

Derek was still trying to reconcile what he was looking at, because it wasn’t necessarily that Stiles was here that was throwing him, it was that Stiles was here naked and tied to his bed. 

Well, kind of tied to his bed. Stiles was sitting up with what Derek could only describe as ribbons tied around his wrists, the ends of which were tied to the bed. He could tell they weren’t tight, and could also tell that Stiles could get out of them if he really wanted to, but it was more the fact that he was tied to his bed that was flooring him. 

Stiles seemed to realize he’d short-circuited his brain, because he gave up on the vultures talk and grinned at Derek. “Happy housewarming! It was exactly one year today that you moved into this place and decided to completely ruin Star Wars. Though to be fair, the ruining of Star Wars care later, but still.” 

“You remembered?” Derek honestly didn’t know what to say. He’d thought only he would be sentimental enough to remember that day. 

“Of course I did.” Now Stiles looked confused. “Why wouldn’t I remember? You kind of left a lasting impression.” He waggled his eyebrows at Derek, shifting slightly on the bed, like the position was uncomfortable. 

Derek moved towards him immediately, reaching up to untie the ribbons, but Stiles shifted so he could shove one foot into Derek’s chest, pushing him back. 

“What are you doing? This is a present!” He paused. “And by ‘this,’ I mean me. I’m the present. For you, anyway. My present is staring at me, so it’s a win-win for both of us.” 

“Isn’t that uncomfortable?” Derek asked, because that was honestly his biggest concern. 

“Hm?” Stiles looked over at the tied ends, then laughed and shook his head. “Oh, no. It’s actually totally fine. I was originally gonna use handcuffs and cuff myself kind of spread eagle, but Boyd gave me a very stern lecture about safety that I hadn’t considered. I’ve never—actually done anything like this before, but I’m guessing he and Erica have because he had a lot to say.” 

Derek knew what Stiles meant. He also didn’t want to know what Erica and Boyd got up to in their free time, but he did remember hearing about an incident—not with them, but someone they knew—where someone had handcuffed themselves to their bed and their spouse didn’t end up coming home that night. 

It was not good for arms to be raised for that long, or tied for that long since the person had obviously struggled and probably tightened the cuffs. Not to mention it was a danger regardless. What if there was a fire? Or an earthquake? Or an intruder?! 

Derek was grateful Boyd had talked Stiles out of handcuffing himself to the bed. The ribbons were much safer, since he could get out of them, and because of how he’d been sitting, it was clear his circulation wasn’t being affected. It really was the best way to have him offered up like meat on a platter without endangering him. 

“So Boyd strip you naked too?” he asked with a small smirk, reaching up to start unbuttoning his shirt. 

“No,” Stiles insisted, rolling his eyes. “I got naked and put a towel over myself, because I knew you’d get all territorial if Boyd saw me naked. He just helped me with the bindings and locked the door on the way out.” 

“Mm,” Derek said in response, the shirt sliding off his shoulders. “No Erica?” 

“No way, she’d have gone nuts. Vibrating dildo and a ball-gag and nipple clamps.” Stiles made a face. “She reads too much erotica.”

“You’d know, since you draw it.” 

“I draw covers for books, I don’t read them, they could be about anything,” Stiles argued. 

Derek laughed again, kicking his shoes off and undoing his pants. He had both his pants and his boxer-briefs off in one hard tug, stepping out of them before crawling up onto the bed, wearing only his socks. They’d come off on their own later, he was sure. 

Stiles grinned and shifted on the bed a bit so he could mostly lie down, his hands slightly raised above his head now, but that was fine. Derek was there if anything happened, and Stiles would tell him if something felt wrong. 

As soon as Stiles was settled, Derek crawled over him and lowered his weight down onto him, kissing his jaw lightly before burying his face in Stiles’ neck and inhaling deeply. He managed to get his arms around his boyfriend, hugging him tightly as they lay there in silence. 

“Gotta admit, not what I was expecting, but I do love cuddles.”

Derek laughed against his skin. “Don’t worry, we’ll get to the fun stuff. I just—wanted to breathe you in for a minute.” 

He heard Stiles’ heart do something weird in his chest, and realized he was happy. He could both hear and smell it. 

“Were you surprised?” Stiles asked softly, Derek still lying on top of him, holding him tightly. 

“To find you naked in my bed?” Derek asked on a laugh. 

“I mean, that, but also that I was home. That I remembered.” 

It suddenly occurred to him that Stiles had probably noticed that nothing ever surprised him when it came to his weird antics anymore. He was so used to everything about Stiles that he just accepted it as something that was purely Stiles. 

But this was something that he’d actively tried to do to surprise him. Something he’d wanted Derek to actually be surprised about. That made his chest warm and Derek smiled against his skin once more. 

“Yeah, Stiles. I was surprised.” 

Stiles’ cheek rested against the top of his head, and he could feel him smiling, obviously pleased to hear it. 

Much as Derek was looking forward to a night of fun in bed with his boyfriend, especially considering the day he’d had and the fact that he hadn’t expected him to be home, he was enjoying this quiet moment with him. This soft, comforting moment of the two of them just lying against each other, breathing each other in. 

He wanted to spend many, many more moments with Stiles like this. Just the two of them, with no expectations, and no pressure. Nothing more than two men in love, holding each other, and listening to the other breathe just because it was the person they cared about most in the world. 

Probably the most romantic thing he’d ever thought, but he could afford to be sappy in his own head. This moment was perfect, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

Even if Stiles was still tied to the bed. 

He could get used to coming home with him like that. 

END