Derek, who really wants to have a baby to keep the Hale blood line but won't have one that isn't both his and Stiles. He can't hide it from Stiles, who in turn feels guilty and sad that he can't give it to Derek so he even tries to insist Derek should find somebody else (he knows it would break him). But Derek will have absolutely none of that, and one day, he says joking, we just need to keep trying in bed. And it actually gets to Stiles's head, and he thinks yes, I just need to keep trying, so he goes after everything magical/supernatural he can learn about and tries his best. He doesn't explicitly tell Derek because he doesn't want to get his hopes up and down with every try, but he keeps being determined. And Derek is loving the sex drive until one day he wakes up to Stiles smelling like something he never thought was possible and while he is shocked and speechless Stiles wakes up looks at his face and we made it, it just took some tries like you said. And Derek can't believe he is so lucky to have Stiles, and now both of them
It takes Derek a second to process the question. More than a second, actually. Because he has no fucking clue what happened here. All he knows is that he went from shouting at Stiles about his recklessness to -
Well. There was some kissing, after the shouting. And then there was the hurried, embarrassingly desperate rush to Derek’s bed. Jesus.
“I don’t know,” Derek admits, staring at the ceiling.
If he had to try to explain it, he’d probably say that it was…inevitable. Now that they’re both back in Beacon Hills, they’ve been spending a lot of time together and maybe they’ve fallen back into their old patterns. Where they bicker and snark at each other but actually rely on each other more than anyone else. And Derek hasn’t actually had a date in a while, or anything resembling one. Not to mention the almost-tangible sexual tension between the two of them over the past… Well. Forever.
He sort of wants to ask if Stiles is okay. If they’re okay, their friendship, their pack relationship. Derek’s never tried to have a platonic pack relationship with a guy who sucked his dick. But the words are caught in his chest, his throat; he can still see it, in his mind’s eye, the way Stiles had grinned when they were finally naked, the way his eyes had darkened and his tongue had slipped between his lips to make his mouth look all wet and lush. Fuck. Just thinking about it is making his skin all tight again, making blood rush south.
He should ask Stiles’ opinion. On exactly what happened. How they went from bickering to foreplay to mutual orgasms. He cares a little more about what happens next, though.
“Nobody taught you how to separate colors, huh?” Stiles asks with a laugh in his voice, and Derek frowns at the confusing shift in topic.
“What?” he asks as he shoves himself up on his elbows, finally looking up at where Stiles is standing by the foot of the bed. He’s poised against Derek’s dresser, still naked, rifling through his underwear drawer. Holding a pair of pink boxers. “Oh,” Derek exhales. “Is that - that’s what you meant.”
Stiles smirks as he waves the boxers in Derek’s direction. “Yeah. Didn’t picture you as a pink underwear kinda guy. Honestly, I’m surprised you had white underwear to turn pink.”
“It was an accident, obviously.”
“The purchasing of white underwear?”
Derek sighs as he collapses onto his back again. The ceiling fans whirls and whirls without a care, disinterested. “One of Eli’s sweaters got into the whites pile last week. Bunch of his socks are pink now too.”
“Very cute. I bet Miss Pearl loves that.”
Eli’s first-grade teacher, the heroine of their household lately. Eli worships her almost as much as he does Stiles, which is really saying something.
“I’m gonna wear these,” Stiles tells him as he steps into the pink shorts. “Since my underwear got torn by an impatient werewolf.”
Derek winces. “Shit, really?”
“It’s cool,” Stiles laughs. “Definitely worth it. Next time you wanna rip something off me, I’ll wear my cheapest rags.”
Derek’s heart beat a little faster. “Next time?”
“Well, you know.” Stiles’ smile is a little hesitant - shy, maybe - as he dresses. Jeans over pink boxers. Shirt over naked shoulders. “Now that we’ve crossed the line, seems like it might happen again. But I get it if - well. I know Eli’s your priority, so.”
Eli is his priority. But Stiles is pretty special to him too. And Derek doesn’t want to have just the one memory, the one rushed encounter. He wants…more. He wants to take his time. He wants to memorize the feeling of Stiles’ skin under his hands, the taste of him, the musical thumping of his heart. Now that he’s given into his urges, he doesn’t want to stop.
“The next time,” Derek says, hoping he sounds more confident than he feels, “can be right now, if you want.”
Stiles beams. “You just want your pink undies back.”
“They look better on you.”
“I think you’re supposed to say something about them looking better on your floor.”
“Pretend I said that, then.”
He laughs, bright and loud, and kneels on the mattress, crawling his way back up to Derek. His honey-colored eyes examine Derek’s face in fast movements, leaning in slowly enough that Derek could protest the offer of a kiss. But he doesn’t. He accepts Stiles’ mouth eagerly, in fact.
“You think Auntie Cora will wanna keep him a little longer today?” Stiles asks between kisses.
“She owes me,” Derek says.
“Sunday in bed it is, then. C’mon, Der. Rip the pink undies off. With your teeth.”
Eli Hale runs away. He’s sick and tired of the expectations from his seemingly infallible father and the subtle but resigned disapproval of his pseudo-grandpa. So he runs. He doesn’t have any friends and he doesn’t have any other family, that is until he runs into someone while breaking down crying on the street in DC (the greyhound got him farther than he thought and he’s hungry and he kind of misses his dad).
This guy is kind of similar to him. Cocky and sure of himself in a way that speaks of years of experience. His brown wavy hair is the same shade as Eli’s and his brown eyes are warm as they ask him if he’s okay and if he’s hungry and if he needs help. Eli is suspicious, and questions the stranger. But Stiles (at least that’s what the guy said his name was) shows him his FBI badge and photos of himself with his team.
So Eli follows him to a hole in the wall restaurant. And he lets the guy ask questions and he lets the guy lecture him and then, resigned and tired and finally realizing he’s totally in over his head, tells Stiles that he’s from Beacon Hills.
Stiles gets a strange look in his eyes as he responds that he’s familiar with the town and was actually about to go visit family if Eli wanted to tag along. Suspicious but still about to go along with it, Eli asks to borrow his phone, typing in his grandpa’s number just for it to pop up in this seemingly stranger’s phone as ‘Dad’.
“Stiles? Everything alright, son?” The sheriff asks in greeting.
And this, ladies and gentleman, is how Eli finds out that Stiles is, like, that Stiles. The one that’s mentioned in every story but never named. The bad-ass that saved his dad and his grandpa’s life on too many occasions. The guy that defeated an ancient evil demon. The guy that always put himself in danger for the safety of others.
The trip back home isn’t long, but Eli is starry eyed the entire time. He asks questions and Stiles—after talking to his dad briefly—answers them absently (not that Eli has even noticed, too blinded by his hero worship).
They make it to Beacon Hills and Stiles marches up to the new Hale house and pounds on the door. Derek answers in an angry huff, ready to chastise his son and hug him in the same breath. Instead he’s met with a slap, a kiss, and then a hug as Stiles mumbles into his ear that he missed him and he’s angry that Derek never told him that he had a son.
Danny and Jackson are the only ones in the pack who immediately clock that Derek Hale isn’t straight. Everyone else sees this testosterone bomb of a manly man, while they see a guy who wears extremely tight-fitting jeans, buys expensive hair gel, and waxes.
Stiles is moping because he thinks he’s crushing on the straightest guy on the planet, and when Danny and Jackson find out, they're like, “Stilinski, are you blind? And also deaf? Because Derek just spent the past fifteen minutes talking about his favorite gay club in New York.”
Stiles still doesn’t believe them, he’s like “Yeah, but what if he just hung out there? As like...an ally?”
Danny and Jackson decide that Stiles is an idiot, and then decide to just ask Derek.
“So, Derek," Danny says. "You’re not straight, right?”
Derek snorts. “Me? No. I thought that was pretty obvious.”
Stiles comes crashing in from another room like “Wait, you’re not??”
Derek actually looks a little offended. "What?"
Stiles shrugs, and half jokingly says “So, that means that technically, hypothetically, if I hit on you, you wouldn’t be disgusted?”
Which of course—because Derek is Derek—earns him a smirk. “I said I’m not straight. I didn’t say I don’t have standards.”
“Oh, that’s dangerous territory for you, buddy. Are you sure you wanna go there?” Stiles says, eyes narrowing.
Derek visibly cringes. Yeah. No. He doesn’t.
“What, are you gonna hit on me?” he asks instead.
“I would,” Stiles says. “But apparently you have standards now. I mean, I think I'm a step up from an evil, dark druid, but who knows.”
Danny rolls his eyes, because this is getting painful to watch. “How about you actually try flirting with him, Stiles? Say something nice for once instead of being a dick.”
“He was being a dick first!”
“Okay, well. Go and be dicks together then. Or ride each other’s. I don’t care.”
Jackson finds that hilarious, but Stiles ignores them. He looks at Derek, who, thankfully, doesn't look like he's going to murder him, despite the fact that Stiles totally just went there. He actually looks kind of amused. Aiming for casual, but feeling weirdly vulnerable, Stiles tries his luck. “Um, so…do you maybe want—I mean. We could—would you like…dinner?” he stutters.
There’s a small smile on Derek’s lips, and he still looks like he wants to say something kind of mean, the bastard. Instead he steps closer. Stiles feels his heart start to race as Derek leans in, hot breath against Stiles' ear, making him shudder.
“Sure.”
Stiles flushes hard as Derek pulls back, looking smug as all hell. And also very hot. Goddammit.
Behind them, Danny and Jackson are losing it.
Stiles grabs Derek's hand and starts dragging him away, flipping them off with the other. “See ya, dickbags. I have a date with a hot guy who has terrible taste and no standards whatsoever. I win. You lose. Buh-bye.”
Later, both Danny and Jackson might feel a little bit of regret for not hitting on Derek first, when Stiles comes back, bragging about how Derek isn’t just into guys—he’s also got a lot of experience with them.
“Like, you guys should have seen what he did with his tongue, it was awesome. I didn’t even know that was a thing—”
“Okay, Stilinski. We get it,” Danny cuts in. “You hit the jackpot. Jesus.”
“Hey listen you can’t blame me, I’m running on 3 hours of sleep, I’m 2 americanos and a redbull deep plus you don’t even wanna know when I last ate oh and the worst part is I can’t even remember the last time I got laid. So excuse me for not being completely 100% on my game.”
An abrupt snort that came from behind him had Stiles spinning on his heels only to find his dad standing there with an exasperated expression on his face and next to him stood the one and only Derek Hale extraordinaire sporting an almost amused smile.
The Derek Hale who was a well known name in the field and the guy Stiles was unfortunately crushing on. Big time.
“Son, I brought some reinforcements, looks like you desperately need help.”
“Depends on which problem he’s helping me with.” Stiles blurted out without thinking before his brain caught up to what he said and he closed his eyes, bringing a hand to his face, realizing exactly how that sounded.
“Jesus Christ I’m sorry. What I actually meant to say was uh hey, hello, nice to see you, Derek I’m glad you’re here.I definitely need all the help I could get to solve this case.”
Derek walked up to Stiles until he was right beside him, speaking in a low voice. “Well I’m sort of a multitasker, play your cards right and I might help solve all of your problems by the end of the night.”
With that he walked off, leaving Stiles a blushing mess rooted to the ground.
Behind them the Sheriff was already regretting his decision to put those two together.
Derek cooed at the puppy and scooped it up effortlessly. The fluffball snuggled close with a happy little noise, and Derek smiled so sweetly-
"I want to have your babies," Stiles said, entirely aware of his words and still unable to stop himself.
Perhaps Derek was too used to his antics now because he only raised an eyebrow at Stiles and continued to stir the curry in the pot without a single stutter. So what was Stiles to do but double down?
"I mean it. I need you to strip naked, throw me on the bed and fu-"
"Don't scar the child we already have," Derek scolded mildly.
Stiles whined - and as if in response, the puppy on Derek's arm seemed to refocus on Stiles, giving a sweet little bark. Derek put him down when he kept fidgeting - and the pup rather cumsily made his way across the short distance between them. He sat in front of Stiles with a waggling tail and impossibly large eyes.
There was really nothing else to do but sweep him up and cuddle him close. He really was the cutest little thing, and Stiles couldn't help but coo at him, rub his cheek against the soft fluff on his head.
"I want you to have my babies," Derek said, all breathless, and when Stiles looked up at him, his eyes were almost black. He huffed.
Stiles Stilinski and the Relentless Need to Be All Knowing
Also on Ao3 Here.
For some reason, Derek keeps touching him. And not like throwing against the wall, normal things. Derek was just touching him.
Stiles doesn’t really know what to do about it so he just writes it down on the back of a Taco Bell receipt.
2:28 am 9/9 Deaton’s- Derek nudges me by my waist to move aside
4:51 pm 9/12 After Practice- he picked me and Scott up after school- opened door for me??? Definite upper butt this time.
9:21 pm 9/12- Harpies attacked, he pushed me behind him. After when I checked his arm, he put his hand on my cheek???
He eventually has to move to a second receipt which is when he tapes the first one into the back of a half used composition notebook. When that gets full, he buys a wall calendar and begins to note them down, looking for patterns.
At first, he thinks it’s a power play over Scott, but incidents increase when Scott isn’t there.
He starts testing it, moving closer. Getting nearby to see what Derek will do.
He’s not bothered by it, more by that he doesn’t know what it means, how to track it. He starts a pin board, trying to figure out what Derek is playing at.
He tracks what Derek does with everyone else, trying to log every little thing. But Derek is preternaturally good at avoiding touch, evading even the slightest grazing of arms… unless it’s from Stiles.
It doesn’t progress, just light touches. The frequency increases but then stays the same. Almost like Derek is… waiting for something.
And Stiles feels just as antsy, with his calendar and his sticky notes and his receipts and his… skin that aches and burns when Derek touches him.
He needs to know what it means, but knowledge evades him. He’s just… touchable. Which… what the fuck?
One night, running on no sleep, staring at the calendar, he shakes his head and heads downstairs, snagging his keys from the bowl by the door and throwing his calendar and board in the seat next to him. Luckily his dad is on a double and mostly the town has been quiet since graduation, so he feels somewhat safe driving around in his pajamas.
Derek answers quickly, throwing the loft door open. His eyes widen when he takes Stiles in, and he’s reaching out immediately, touching Stiles’ shoulder with light fingers.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” Derek asks.
Stiles barrels past him and beelines to the rustic dining table that still lacks chairs, flinging his evidence on top.
“I need you to explain this.” Stiles says, running a hand over his face.
Derek’s frowns and leans over the table. Stiles watches as it transforms while Derek reads, from confusion, to anger to something much more guarded, almost blank.
Isaac comes in, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, sees them both, and immediately turns around and heads back to his side of the loft.
“Stiles, I…” and then Deek just… doesn’t say anything, his face impassive and unreadable.
“You what??? Because I’m going crazy, Derek. Is that what it’s for? To make me crazy? Because it’s working.” Stiles tears at his hair. “It’s me. It’s only me.”
“It is.” Derek agrees, maddeningly.
“It’s all the time.”
“It… is.”
Stiles isn’t sure what he’s coming to make Derek confess. Seeing him agree to it all just makes it feel all the more insane. Derek is touching him. All the time.
Derek doesn’t move. It doesn’t even look like he’s breathing.
“I need to know why.” Stiles doesn’t ask. He’s past asking. He’s here at 3 am in his pj pants. He’s way past that.
“Crazy.” Derek says after a long moment, touching the edge of the calendar, slowly. Deliberately. And then he smiles, for some unknown reason. But his eyes aren’t smiling with him.
Stiles doesn’t see what’s so funny. Ok maybe the board got a little intense for notes like “brushed pinkies as we walked” but it’s the principal of the thing.
And then Stiles is tossed up onto the table, and he instinctively throws a hand up to Derek, trying to keep his teeth away from Stiles’ throat and then…
And then…
He’s already kissing Derek back when his brain catches up to what happened, the new piece of evidence. The missing puzzle piece.
Derek tastes clean, minty and fresh and his hands hold Stiles’ cheeks in place so softly, that light touch. Like he can’t grip any harder. Meanwhile Stiles is fisting his hand in Derek’s shirt at the neck like he’s trying to climb inside him. He yanks Derek’s hips between his knees, pushy, mouth seeking, searching, burning.
And then, just as quickly, Derek lets go, and it’s only because of that fist that he doesn’t leave immediately.
“That’s why.” Derek says, with finality, his face unmoving. He jerks against Stiles’ grip, clearly trying to get away.
“Oh.” Stiles says, still not letting go.
“It won’t happen again.”
Stiles blinks, confused for a second. “But I bought a calendar?”
What a crazy thing to say. Crazy enough that Derek loses his iron will to lean away from Stiles and tumbles forwards, back into Stiles’ orbit. His hips fall back between Stiles’ knees, and everything slots into place.
“You can do it again.” Stiles says slowly. “Just… let me know what it means.”
Derek freezes. And then…
A smile breaks out over his face, a genuine one. His eyes crinkle and he reaches up for Stiles’ face, his touch more sure now, stronger.
hehehehe thinking about derek teaching stiles how to properly kiss after their first date or even before they are dating and i can just imagine stiles expecting like just lips on lips but then derek licks his bottom lip and his mind immediately goes fucking blank like a loading screen cause omg derek hales tongue is about to be in his mouth tangled with his own like he is freaking out but he won't freak until after derek leaves where he will be free to jump on his bed and do a little victory dance 🕺
