So I love mutual pining as much as the next fanfic enthusiast but what about:
Stiles just blatantly thirsting for Derek.
Like just outright, can’t mistake it, everyone knows it. That Lydia fascination switches gears to Derek at whiplash speeds. Every chance he gets he’s complimenting Derek on his biceps, on his face, on his hair, on his clothes, on his shift, everything. At first it’s all physical stuff, but as they go on Stiles starts peppering in flattery about Derek’s personality and training and brilliant mind.
And Derek has no idea what to do with any of it. Stiles isn’t really actively seducing him, just seems to be appreciative, if you will, and Derek’s never really been just casually flirted with, everyone who hit on him just wanted to get him into bed.
After the first couple times Stiles makes Derek blush, Stiles ends up asking if Derek would like him to stop hitting on him. Derek manages to get out that he would absolutely like Stiles to continue, thanks. And Stiles makes some throwaway comment about Derek returning the favor.
Stiles’ compliments go from tame to dirty in the blink of an eye, just blatant come-ons. He still gives Derek the sweet flirting too, but now he’s also giving him a little grin and looking at Derek with heat in his eyes, adding in some of the best and the worst pick-up lines Derek’s ever heard. And there’s apparently never a bad time for it, either.
They’re researching something that’s trying to kill them late into the night? Stiles looks up from some ancient book written in another language when Derek brings him coffee and says in a sleepy-rough voice, “Derek, if you were words on a page, you’d be fine print.” Then he winks, takes a drink of his coffee, and gets back to a crash course in… that actually may be a dead language, Derek’s not sure.
They’ve just killed something that was trying to kill them? Derek’s in shift, still looking as menacing as ever, and Stiles sidles right up to him withi his bat over his shoulder, scratch on his cheek, and says, “Hey, you got a Band-Aid?” He grins and points to his cheek. “I scratched myself when I fell for you.”
The turning point comes when they’ve killed something that tried to kill them, and almost succeeded in killing Stiles. Derek’s sitting in his hospital room like the creeper he swears he isn’t, dodging suspicious looks from the Sheriff, who’s only just now in the know about werewolves and supernatural things since Stiles’ wounds are pretty hard to explain otherwise. And Stiles finally starts coming awake, squints at Derek in the dim light, and manages a crooked little grin as he croaks out, “Is this heaven? Or is God just missing an angel? Oh shit, hi, Dad.”
After that, Derek thinks about Stiles saying he could “return the favor,” and about Stiles in a hospital bed after nearly bleeding out in his Camaro.
He’s rusty, is the thing. His first attempt does not go smoothly. After a pack meeting, when Stiles is still healing but able to hang around as long as there’s somewhere for him to sit, when everyone else is gone, Derek clears his throat and looks down at where Stiles is laying back in the arm chair, eyes closed but still awake.
“What are my chances of getting you into bed?” is what he manages. Which is honestly less pick-up line and more obvious innuendo, that actually can’t be acted on because Stiles still runs out of breath walking up the stairs right now.
Stiles grins though, eyes closed still, knows exactly what Derek’s trying for. “Pretty good, but you might have to carry me. Don’t get me wrong, I love my bed, but I’d rather be in yours.”
Derek snorts and bundles Stiles up in the Camaro, drives him home. He helps Stiles up the stairs, helps Stiles get changed - and oh, Stiles is a goldmine of pick-up lines and innuendo in that situation - and gets Stiles into bed. He stays until Stiles is asleep (and then honestly a little while after that), and then he slips out the front door instead of the window, like a person, as Stiles would say.
And then he goes home and Googles pick-up lines. He’s gonna need to build up a stash if he’s going to keep up with Stiles’ repertoire.
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