‘Hey, Stiles,’ Scott says.
‘Do you ever wonder why Derek broke up with that guy he was seeing?’
‘Not really,’ Stiles lies. His heart skips a beat and Scott smirks, catches the Cheeto that Stiles throws at him in his mouth. Stiles flips a page pointedly.
‘Dude, what did that guy even look like? I forget. I feel like he was tall though, and he had those freakishly long fingers, you know what I mean? Like daddy long legs. Wasn’t he learning drums too?’
'Yeah,’ Stiles murmurs absentmindedly, scribbling notes in the margin. There’s a wendigo on the loose a few towns over from Beacon Hills, and the Turner pack called to ask for their help taking it down - Scott and Stiles are at the new house Derek bought, researching. ('Housewarming, man, we’re sexiled.’ 'Isn’t housewarming where you get me a gift?’ 'No, we’re warming your house. And the gift is us!’) 'I helped him,’ Stiles adds.
'You crushed him at Guitar Hero, is what you mean.’
Stiles smirks, preens visibly.
’D'you feel like he had a lot of freckles too? Like, everywhere? Even when we were in the sun for a second he’d suddenly have a million new freckles. And he had those hipster cool glasses, too.’
'Yeah,’ Stiles agrees easily, slapping his laptop and muttering under his breath.
Scott rolls his eyes. ‘Does that remind you of anyone? Anyone at all? Don’t we know someone else with freckles, who’s tall with long fingers? And has glasses like that?’
'Dude,’ Stiles says. He raises his head, finally, and looks at Scott, eyebrows furrowed. Somewhere an orchestra swells - this is it, Scott thinks. This is the moment.
The door bursts open and Derek stomps through, rustling his plastic grocery bags as he, like, flares his nostrils at Scott. ‘Wow,’ he says loudly, glaring at Scott through his blush, ‘you would not believe the traffic out there, it was so bad it made me want to kill someone. Maybe even a werewolf.’
Scott’s not sure when it became A Thing. Actually, that’s a lie. It was A Thing long before he noticed it, but now that he’s stopped being blind, there’s no use wasting time, is there? Every day Scott sees Derek hide a smile at the texts Stiles sends him, watches Stiles melt at the art projects Derek brings home from his kindergarteners, practically floats onto a rainbow on a bed of unicorns at the gazes they exchange during pack meetings. It’s ridiculous, and he doesn’t understand why one or both of them doesn’t just grab the other so they can start fucking like bunnies. Scott doesn’t want to smell that, of course, gross, but it’d be better than the unresolved sexual tension and growling that goes on instead.
'Hey, I got you your drink,’ Derek murmurs, sliding into the booth next to Stiles with a beer and the freakishly obscure cocktail that took Scott a year to memorize. He still forgets the Tabasco sometimes.
'Thanks!’ Stiles accepts it happily, heartbeat speeding up as he sips it. Derek ducks his head and smiles, looking like a tween going through his first crush and not the grown man he is. Scott narrows his eyes at them.
'That’s so nice of you,’ he says, 'it’s so sweet that you know his favourite drink.’
Derek snaps his eyes up and glares. He glances at Stiles, and frowns at Scott.
'I still don’t know how to make Lydia’s coffee,’ he continues, 'but we haven’t even said 'I love you’ yet, so that makes sense. Stiles’ dad made my mom’s tea perfectly the other night though, and she came home smelling happier than she has since we got my college acceptance letters. Drinks, huh?' He laughs, trying to channel those Stock images of women laughing alone with salads he sees. 'So small, but so meaningful, right Stiles?’
Stiles frowns at him like he’s trying to solve a particularly tricky riddle. ‘Dude, should I get the lamb or the shrimp?’
Scott slumps over, rests his head on his pillowed arms. ‘Have you been listening to anything I’ve been saying at all?’
Derek smiles at Scott, steps on his foot under the table, and Scott kicks him right back.
‘It’s Valentine’s Day!’ Stiles shouts, and throws confetti at him as he opens the door. Scott spits out heart-shaped tissue paper. Stiles beams at him. ‘You ready for the pack date night extraordinaire?’
‘Born ready,’ Scott says, and fist bumps him with a grin.
They prepare all the blankets and pillows for the night, setting up a selection of movies by the couch and mixing the drinks. They’re putting the final touches on the cupcakes they made the night before when Derek shows up, early by twenty minutes, like he always is.
‘Hey,’ he says. ‘I brought something.’ He lifts a black gift bag, gives it to Stiles who’s been making grabby-hands, and he shucks his leather jacket.
‘Oooh,’ Stiles says appreciatively at the box of chocolates inside. He opens it and plucks a truffle out, moaning loudly as he chews. Scott blushes just listening to him, but it’s nothing compared to the bright red of Derek’s cheeks. ‘Holy god, these are amazing! You’re amazing,’ he adds, smiling dopily.
‘I’m glad you like them.’
‘Here, try one!’ Stiles lifts a dark square to Derek, going straight for his mouth. Knowing Stiles, he hadn’t even considered the action before doing it, His scent, nervous and enthusiastic at first, changes as soon as the chocolate disappears with a low groan from Derek, and Scott almost face palms at the shocked arousal in the air. Watching them is like watching two puppies run headfirst into each other. Painful and dumb, but adorably so.
‘Nice chocolates, huh?’ he asks.
Stiles jumps, almost dropping the box. Derek steadies him with a hand on his arm, and glares at Scott.
‘They look pretty fancy. Kinda like the chocolates Isaac got Allison as a wedding gift, right?’
‘I guess,’ Stiles says hesitantly.
‘So, I guess you could say they’re pretty special chocolates for a pretty special person.’
‘Yeah, Derek brought them for the pack.’
Scott can hear Derek grinding his teeth. He barrels on. ‘If someone got me chocolates like that, I’d know I was getting lucky that night. Really lucky. Like, ready to try whatever I suggested in bed lucky. Maybe even lucky enough for something more serious. Maybe even lucky enough for tickets to Paris. Or Comic-Con.’
‘Are you…saying Lydia got you tickets to Comic-Con?’
'I’m saying,’ Scott says, slowly like he’s explaining photosynthesis to his kindergarteners, ‘that someone in this room, right this second, feels very strongly towards someone else in this room. And that those two people might want to, you know, talk. Or something.’ He wiggles his eyebrows meaningfully. ‘I think you know who those people are, but here’s a hint - ‘
'Look at the time!’ Derek says suddenly, rounding the kitchen island to clap a hand over Scott’s mouth. 'It’s time for an Alpha to Alpha talk, Stiles, you can handle this, right?’
'I need you to stop whatever you’re doing,’ Derek pleads as soon as he’s pushed them into his bedroom.
'What I’m doing,’ Scott says, 'is for your own good.’
'Well, it’s not, and I don’t want you to. It’s my life.’
Scott looks at him silently, counting down from 10, and Derek deflates at 2.
'It took years for Stiles and I to even become friends, alright? I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to screw things over with my feelings. I’m working on getting over him and it’ll take time, but it’ll happen and then we’ll - ’
The door slams open. ‘No! No, no, not at all, bad,’ Stiles says. There’s frosting on the corner of his jaw; Scott knew he shouldn’t have trusted him with the cupcakes. ‘You little piece of shit! I can’t believe you!’ he explodes.
Derek looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up. He clenches his hands into fists and closes his eyes, breathing steadily through his nose.
'I can’t believe you never told me!’ Stiles stumbles forward until he’s cupping Derek’s face, and then he pulls him forward before Derek can even open his eyes, licking into his mouth and swallowing the high-pitched whimper Derek makes.
'Yuck,’ Scott says, grinning so wide his face hurts.
'And you,’ Stiles says, pulling back to glare at him. Derek whines and tugs him closer, noses at the hinge of his jaw and wraps his arms tightly around his waist. 'I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, you’re fired from your position as best bro,’ he says, and dives back into Derek.
Scott rolls his eyes and closes the door on his way out, scoffing even as he smiles triumphantly. There’s a loud 'Fuck!' from Derek’s bedroom and a clattering sound, then a mumbled 'I think we need to send Scott an edible arrangement after this.’ Damn right they do, he thinks, or who knows how long they would’ve taken on their own.
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