Sterek - #20 please? :)
also requested by gayharrys
20. things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear
They’re playing video games at Stiles's house on a warm evening in June when Stiles breaks.
“I had sex with Derek,” he says, just as Scott stuffs a fistful of Doritos in his mouth.
Scott chokes, his eyes bulging, and starts flailing everywhere.
“I know,” Stiles says happily, and slaps Scott on the back until he stops coughing.
“Dude,” Scott says, when he gets his breath back. “Where?”
“Here,” Stiles says. “I’m not ready for the loft, it still kind of creeps me out.”
“Fair,” Scott says, nodding along. “Did you, you know,” and he gestures, putting his left index finger through the circle of his right thumb and index finger.
“P in the B?” Stiles says. “Yes, indeed. Both Ps, both Bs.”
“I can’t believe you waited this long to tell me,” Scott says. “You know about my interest in butt stuff.”
“I was trying to be classy about it,” Stiles says, and tosses his controller down, the game completely forgotten. “You know, suave.”
“Glad that impulse is over,” Scott says. “Now give it up. Did it hurt?”
“No,” Stiles says. “Felt really weird, mostly, but then it got good.”
“Good like what?” Scott says, flopping over on his stomach. “Better than a BJ? Ugh, just tell me everything from the beginning.”
He does. In thorough detail.
"Oh my god," Scott says, throwing himself backwards on the couch. "I feel like I need a cigarette."
"Tell me about it," Stiles says, happily. He's been laid. He's been laid well.
"If you two are done," Derek says, stiffly, from behind them. They both leap to their feet, and Scott knocks over the bowl of popcorn.
"Damn it Scott," Stiles says. "You're a werewolf."
"Uh," Scott says. "I'm gonna go." He's out the door even before he finishes the sentence, leaving Stiles standing there, facing Derek.
"I'm sorry," Stiles says, helpless. "You weren't supposed to hear that."
"Do you have to tell him everything," Derek huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Kind of," Stiles says. "Everything important, anyway."
"I'm important?" Derek says, and he looks surprised out of his irritation, his face gone soft and sweet, enough that Stiles has to reach out and kiss his stupid dumb face.
"Yeah," he says. "You're important." They grin at each other for a long moment, and Stiles considers whether they've made up enough for Stiles to stick his hands down Derek's pants.
Just when he's decided to go for it, the smile drops off Derek's face. "Still doesn't mean you have to tell him about my face. You know, when I--" he trails off, but his glare is fierce.
Stiles smirks at him. "Baby, I'm going to tell everyone about your face. I'm gonna draw portraits of your face, commission oil paintings, interpretive dancers, baby I can't stop thinking about--"
Derek kisses him, swallows the rest of his promises. "Talk about my o-face again, and you'll never see it for the rest of your life."
Stiles drops to his knees. "We'll see about that."
