"Stiles proposes at least once a week. Derek’s used to it by now." You should write a fic where Stiles tries to propose multiple times but Derek doesn't believe him.
So it’s possible Stiles abuses the phrase, “Marry me.” But in his defense he was still a little drunk and Derek was making him bacon. No one’s will is that strong.
“Oh my god marry me,” Stiles moans as he flops down at the island in Derek’s kitchen, unabashedly sniffing the air.
His eyes are closed in olfactory bliss, so he misses the way Derek stills for a moment before quietly saying, “Okay.”
“Good,” Stiles says. “‘Cause you’re a keeper, man.“
Stiles has proposed to Scott, Lydia, Allison, and Kira on multiple occasions, and even Scott’s mom that one time he and Scott never talk about. Ever.
It’s a little different with the person you’re dating, but to be fair Stiles has never had a serious boyfriend or girlfriend (except for Amanda, who broke up when Stiles said they should have a June wedding after she out-trivia’d him on Bruce Willis movies and she claimed he was “too clingy” but there was no real love lost there because she would only eat olive and mushroom pizza and really, just no).
He just doesn’t think anything of it when he proposes they just file the paperwork at the courthouse as soon as his legs work again after a particularly thorough blowjob, or when he asks who Derek’s best man would be as he spreads aloe vera on Stiles’ back after spending all day outside.
“Get up,” Derek says loudly, ripping off the blankets. Before Stiles has time to protest, a mug of coffee is being shoved into his hands. “We’re going to be late now, thanks to you.”
Stiles inhales the smell of French Roast before he says, “You know, your words say you’re annoyed, but the coffee says you love me.”
Derek rolls his eyes. “I tolerate you. But Scott sure won’t if we’re late for his daughter’s first softball game.”
“Marry me,” Stiles says suddenly, dead serious. He wants Derek not-really-angrily waking him up every morning. He wants to get annoyed when Derek cooks onions and their entire apartment smells of nothing else for the rest of the night. He wants soft kisses and quiet affection. He wants to marry Derek.
“Sure,” Derek says absently, debating between two shirts.
It’s very clear Derek hadn’t taken the question seriously, but that’s fine. Stiles will readily admit he’s been the boy who cried marriage much too often to be taken seriously without some sort of grand gesture.
“Your fake proposals are getting pretty elaborate,” Derek says dumbly, frozen in the doorway to their apartment with Stiles on one knee in front of him.
“Not fake,” Stiles shakes his head. He reaches into his pocket. “I have a ring and everything. See?”
Derek blinks down at the ring, up at Stiles, and the quietly shuts their door.
“You’re serious?” he asks quietly.
Stiles nods. “Very. I wanna tie the knot, get hitched, start getting tax benefits for putting up with you.”
“You want me for the tax benefits?” Derek asks, a slow smile forming at the corners of his lips.
“And, you know, for some of the other stuff too. But mostly the tax breaks.”
“You make a very compelling argument,” Derek says solemnly. Or at least he tries to. The effect is kind of ruined by his almost shy smile. After three years together, he still looks like he’s surprised he gets something so nice. It just makes Stiles’ heart beat that much faster.
“So?” Stiles stands and slips the ring on Derek’s finger. “What do you say?”
“I know you haven’t really noticed, but the answer’s always been yes.”
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