Proposal, Or Something Like That
Thanks for the anonymous reminder, whoever you are ko-fi nonnie. I totally got swept up in my work and life and getting back into the swing of writing (and hopefully finishing my fic) that I kind of forgot about my wonderful ko-fi donators. You guys really helped me out sooooo much and Iâm forever grateful.
This goes out to @ladydrace  for your 900-word donation that I extended toÂ
1292, considering I took so long to get to this. It may not be as fluffy as you expected (I tried, I did, but Iâm a angst writer haha), but I hope you enjoy it. Thanks so much, again, dear.
The first time Stiles says it, Derek nearly chokes on a spoonful of ice cream. Which would be a shitty way to die, especially all theyâd had to face in the last few years. Especially as the big bad of the week had slowly evolved into the big bad of the month, and the last few months had been completely quiet.
Derek shouldâve known to be prepared at any moment. Except, how could anyone be prepared for this?
âGod, why arenât we married yet?â Stiles groans out after taking a giant bite of his ice cream. A little of it spills down Stilesâ arm and he chases it with his tongue, and Derek nearly chokes on his.
He realizes heâs staring at Stiles, his spoon still stuck in his mouth. He quickly rectifies the situation, removing said spoon and giving Stiles one of his best eye rolls.
âSeriously,â Stiles continues, pretty much shoveling the ice cream into his mouth at this point. âIf I knew you could cook like this, I wouldâve proposed ages ago.â
âItâs not cooking, Stiles,â Derek says. Because that is the easiest thing to focus on. Instead of the way Stiles is moaning around each spoonful, a little dribbling out of his mouth which should not be doing things to Derek.
âYou know what I mean.â
He finally looks up, his bowl licked completely clean. And Derek can see the moment his senses come back to him as he blushes and gently places the bowl on the counter in front of him like he hadnât just had his face shoved in there. He glances mournfully at the hand crank ice cream machine Derek had just purchased.
Derek sighs, pushing away from the counter to pick up Stilesâ bowl and refill it with the remainder of the ice cream. Apparently it was a worthwhile purchase.
âSeriously, marry me?â
The second time it happens, Derek is no more prepared for the words, or the images they bring to mind. Images he could never allow himself to dream of because itâs too painful to know it will never happen.
Derek had just been settling into bed with a book he was keen to finish tonight when his phone went off, a ringtone heâd never heard before but had no doubt Stiles had somehow hacked his phone just to add a ridiculous tone for himself. And a quick glance to the screen only proves his point.
With a sigh, Derek leans over and picks up the phone, half tempted to just send him to voicemail. Instead, he answers.
âWhat do you want, Stiles?â he says in a voice he hopes sounds firm and put out.
âHeeeeeeeeeeeey, Derek,â Stiles singsongs from the other end of the line, like he is just as surprised Derek answered the phone.
Derek sighs again, already pulling back the bedding and grabbing his jeans. âWhere are you?â
âThas not how yersposed to answer the phooooone,â Stiles slurs out, ending with a giggle like he were sharing a joke with himself.
Derek can hear a pounding bassline over the other end of the line and is already running through all the possible bars Stiles couldâve snuck into. He had two more years. Why couldnât he just be reasonable and just wait.
âIâm coming to pick you up,â Derek says, already halfway down his spiral staircase. âTell me where you are.â
Itâs easy to pick Stiles out over the crowd as he is currently on top of the bar, attempting to dance against one of the pillars. Two of the bartenders are attempting to get him down while another stands back and laughs like this is a regular occurrence, which all Derek knows, it could be.
Before Derek can even cross the room and somehow get Stiles down from his makeshift strip show, Stiles notices him.
âDerek!!!â He shouts, taking one step off the bar and before anyone can do anything, he lands flat on his face.
Somehow, Derek manages to get Stiles into the passenger seat of his car and before he rounds the car to his own seat, he takes Stilesâ hand in his and drains a bit of the pain that Stiles might not feel at the moment, but will most definitely feel in the morning. Heâs almost done when Stilesâ other hand lifts and brushes across Derekâs cheek, making him freeze on the spot.
âWill you marry me yet?â Stiles says, his voice oddly clear. Heâs staring at Derek with absolute concentration, as if he could will Derek into saying yes.
Derek swallows, his throat having to work extra hard over the lump that seems to have suddenly formed. Thereâs something in his chest, attempting to crawl out, but he shuts it down. This isnât...Stiles doesnât mean anything by it. Itâs justâŠ.Stiles being Stiles. Stiles being drunk, whatever.
Derek schools his expression before gently rearranging Stiles and placing the seatbelt around him.
âLetâs get you home,â he says before closing the door and rounding the car, too quick to notice the way Stilesâ face pinches in pain.
âWhat do I have to do to get you to say yes?â
Derek nearly brings the hammer down on his hand instead of the nail that was halfway through the fence board he was attempting to repair. He has only a moment to marvel at the fact that Stiles can sneak up on Derek without any of his senses picking up on him, before Stiles is yanking on his shoulder and spinning him around.
His eyebrows are furrowed together, his lips a thin line, and Derek can honestly say he hasnât seen Stiles this pissed since...he canât remember when.
âWhat are...â What was he even talking about? Say yes? To what?
Thankfully Derek doesnât have to find his words as Stiles is already running over them. âIâve asked you nicely. Twice now. But you have yet to answer. And maybe I havenât been the but I havenât been subtle.â
Derek blinks. âWhat the hell are you talking about?â
âYouâre out here fixing my dadâs fence without even being asked,â Stiles continues as if Derek hadnât spoken. Heâs waving his hands around in a way that makes Derek want to hold them down for everyoneâs safety. âYou made my absolute most favorite flavor of ice cream without me even asking. You drove twenty minutes out of your way to pick me up from a bar because I was too shitfaced to drive home. How the hell am I supposed to keep my emotions at bay with you doing everything in your power to test them?â
âWould you just marry me already?â Stiles says in a huff, full on glaring at Derek by now.
Stiles looks about ready to go into another rant when the words finally process. He freezes. âO...okay?â
A small smile spreads across Derekâs face. Who knew he could ever actually make Stiles speechless.
âYes, okay. Iâll marry you.â He takes advantage of Stilesâ stunned silence by pulling him in closer until theyâre pressed together from thigh to chest. His smile grows as Stilesâ eyes widen and his breath catches. âBut we might want to consider going on at least one date before we do.â
âYou...you better not be playing around,â Stiles breathes out. He tries to make it sound teasing, but Derek can see the uncertainty in his eyes.
âIâm not if youâre not,â Derek says, leaning his down ever so slowly, giving Stiles time to pull away.
Stilesâ eyes drop to Derekâs mouth as his tongue unconsciously comes out to wet his lips. God, heâs wanted this for so long.
âItâs a date, then,â Stiles says on a breath, his eyes never leaving Derekâs lips.
