Stiles and Derek are walking down the street, Derek trying desperately to keep his hand from getting too clammy where it’s attached to Stiles’. He’s vaguely aware that they’re headed in the direction of his apartment, but isn’t focusing on it. Too much.
Stiles is rambling on about one of his classes at school and Derek is…captivated. He’s generally not much of a talker, but Stiles seems to talk enough for the two of them.
Most people take Derek’s silence for granted and trample over it, leaving him no room to contribute. But Stiles keeps sneaking little glances at Derek and occasionally nudging him with questions that Derek answers probably very ineloquently. Derek wants to kiss him for it, but he thinks maybe now isn’t the time. He tunes back in to what Stiles is saying.
“Which is how I ended up in tech support.”
Derek nods, “It seems like a good fit for you. You have to like talking as much as you do if you’re going to be on the phone with strangers all of the time.”
Stiles pales. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to-“ his voice softens. “I know I talk a lot. I didn’t mean to like, overpower you. I get that a lot.”
Derek can’t help barking out a laugh. “No, Stiles. I didn’t mean it that way. You definitely weren’t overpowering me. I don’t like talking that much-I’d rather listen.”
“Really?” Stiles asks, cheering immediately.
Derek squeezes his hand. “Really.”
Stiles smiles brightly at him and squeezes his hand back. “Well you have to tell me something about yourself. How’d you get into history? No offense, but just looking at you, you wouldn’t strike me as a history nerd.”
“That’s probably a compliment,” Derek responds.
Stiles laughs and then continues to look at him expectantly, reminding Derek that he hasn’t actually answered his question.
“Oh. How did I get into history…I don’t know, I’ve just always liked it. There’s something fascinating about hearing about how people lived in a different time period and the things they dealt with. I like seeing how we deal differently with the same types of situations now.”
“And writing?” Stiles asks.
Derek can feel himself blushing a little. “Well. I liked history a lot, but…I just wanted to be able to tell it in my own way. Put my own perspective on it. Make history something of my own, you know?”
Stiles has stopped walking and is staring at Derek with his mouth slightly agape. “Fuck, that’s hot,” he finally says.
Derek quirks an eyebrow at him. “That I like to write?”
Stiles chuckles and brings a hand up to lightly touch Derek’s stubbled cheek. “No. That you’re blushing.”
Derek feels his face flush even more. “Oh,” he whispers.
“Even better,” Stiles says, bringing his other hand up to lightly trace Derek’s ear, which he’s can feel is also bright red.
Derek suddenly becomes very aware of how close he’s standing to Stiles. Slowly, he brings his arms up and draws them around Stiles’ waist, pulling him even closer.
He looks down at Stiles’ perfect mouth, just a few inches from his own, and then flicks his eyes back up to Stiles’ for a moment too long before leaning forward.
Their lips touch, gently at first, getting used to each other. After a few moments, Stiles presses forward, and Derek returns his intensity. Their kisses get more and more impassioned until Derek has a hand sneaking underneath Stiles’ shirt, and Stiles’s hands are wound up in Derek’s hair. At some point Derek works his thigh in between Stiles’, and it becomes very apparent that they are both very interested in what’s happening between them. In broad daylight. In the middle of the sidewalk.
Derek slowly walks them toward the side of the building next to them as they kiss, keeping their bodies pressed together as he does so. After a few minutes of them pushed up against the wall, he gathers up the strength to pull away for a moment before sending a quick nod above them and saying. “This is my building.”
He immediately resumes their kiss until Stiles eventually breaks it a few moments later.
“I know,” Stiles says, “Why do you think I walked us in this direction?” His voice is shaky, out of breath, and it sends a shudder up Derek’s spine.
Stiles’ presses forward again and Derek forgets what he was going to say until he hears Stiles moan into his mouth and feels a leg pressing up against his groin.
Derek breaks his head off to the side, barely keeping himself from engaging in some serious dry humping in public. “Should we-“ he begins, but he’s interrupted by the sound of a siren going off very close by.
“Shit,” Stiles swears.
“What is that?” Derek asks with a grimace, briefly considering prying his hands out from under Stiles’ shirt to cover his ears. But that’s clearly not possible.
Stiles gingerly removes his hands from Derek’s hair, and drops them onto his arms instead. “It’s nothing.”
Derek turns his head to the side to see a cop car pulled up so that it’s sitting halfway onto the sidewalk. “Um. Is there something I should know about you?” Derek asks. “Are you on the run or something?”
Stiles sighs and squeezes Derek’s biceps lightly. “That’s my dad,” he admits, not meeting Derek’s eyes as he says it.
“Your dad?!” Derek asks incredulously.
“Yeah, he’s the Sherriff,” Stiles sighs at the same time as a man steps out of the car.
“Stiles,” the man says slowly.
“Yeah, dad?” Stiles asks, scrunching up his face slightly but still looking determinately down at Derek’s chest.
Derek wants to turn and run, thinks he should probably at least move away from Stiles, but there’s no way his boner wouldn’t be completely noticeable. Actually, both of their boners. So instead he stays silent, still completely flush against Stiles’ body, trying to slow down his breathing as he stares at a spot in the distance above Stiles’ head.
“You do realize that public indecency is a thing that people get arrested for, right?” the Sheriff is saying.
“Of course, dad. But that wasn’t what was happening here,” Stiles says in a voice that’s so shaky and wrecked that it makes Derek’s stomach flip with want.
“Oh really? So what was happening here?”
Stiles squeezes Derek’s arm again. Derek wishes he wouldn’t. It really isn’t helping the situation he has happening in his pants. “We were just getting to know each other,” Stiles states confidently.
His dad sighs. “Right. Well. Couldn’t you get to know each other somewhere else? Out of the public eye?”
“We were planning on it,” Stiles mumbles, but luckily the Sheriff doesn’t catch that.
“Who are you anyway?” the Sheriff asks, and it takes Derek a moment to realize the Sheriff is talking to him. He lifts his head up reluctantly and turns to look at the Sheriff. He’s met with a hard glare that makes him want to look away again, maybe bury his head in Stiles’ shoulder for all of eternity.
“Derek. Derek Hale. Sir.”
“Do you have a record, Hale?”
Derek shifts his eyes toward Stiles and finds him looking up at him. He glances back at the Sheriff. “Maybe a small one.”
“What?” Stiles hisses. Then, under his breath, whispers, “So hot.”
“I got in some trouble in high school. For a senior prank. I was 18 at the time, though, so it went on my record…” his voice trails off.
“And how did you meet Stiles?” the Sheriff asks. Derek’s starting to sweat a little bit uncomfortably, but the interrogation is doing wonders for lowering his state of arousal.
He sighs. Derek has a feeling this part isn’t going to go over well. “I…was having computer troubles. Stiles helped me out when I called tech support.”
The Sheriff runs a hand across his forehead. “Wait. So is this is the first time you’ve actually met in person?”
"…Yes.”
The Sheriff claps his hands together. “Okay, nope. This-is not happening. You two are going to get to know each other in another context before you continue-whatever this is,” he gestures at the two of them, still intertwined against the wall. “You’re coming to dinner. Now.”
Derek knows better than to argue. Instead, he sneaks a glance at Stiles who simply shrugs.
“Okay, sir,” Derek says.
“You can sit in the back,” the Sheriff responds, pointing into his cop car.
Stiles grimaces a bit. “Could you maybe, uh…just give us a moment?” Clearly the interrogation isn’t working as well on Stiles’ libido as it is on Derek’s.
The Sheriff sighs heavily before nodding and getting back into the vehicle.
Slowly, Stiles steps back away from Derek until they’re ready to be seen without looking obscene.
“Sorry in advance,” he says with a wry smile.
--
When they roll up in front of Stiles’ house, Derek starts getting nervous. The car ride has been…awkward at best. Stiles’ hair is stuck up on one side, presumably from where Derek had his hands in it, and Derek has spent the majority of the ride resisting the urge to reach a hand over and smooth it out. When the Sheriff gets out of the car, Derek stops resisting and does so while Stiles offers him a small grin in return.
They walk into the house and the Sheriff immediately busies himself with preparing dinner.
“Anything I can do to help?” Derek asks.
The Sheriff shrugs. “You can help Stiles set the table. I’m just reheating leftovers, so it shouldn’t take long.”
Derek follows Stiles around the kitchen as he shows him where the table supplies are, and they set the table quickly and quietly.
Before long, they’re seated at the kitchen table in a very uncomfortable silence.
Unfortunately, the Sheriff decides to break it. “So, Hale, you seem to be a good bit older than Stiles-what is it that you do?”
Derek looks up at him. “I’m an author. I write history books.”
“Great history books,” Stiles interjects. The Sheriff doesn’t even spare a glance his way.
“And that gives you enough to live off of?” the Sheriff asks with narrowed eyes.
“It does. It pays the bills.”
“Oh my God, dad,” Stiles mutters under his breath.
The Sheriff ignores him. “What about savings?”
Stiles bangs his head down onto the table and Derek has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing.
“I have those as well, sir,” Derek says with a small smile and a nod.
The Sheriff returns the nod thoughtfully. “And what do you parents do?”
Derek’s chest clenches as it always does whenever someone asks about his parents, and he hears Stiles audibly groans beside him.
Derek looks back down at his plate and pushes the green beans around with his fork. “My parents aren’t alive, sir.” He hates the way his voice sounds when he says it, he always has. It always feels like he’s showing too much emotion and yet not enough at the same time.
He feels Stiles sit up next to him and Derek finally peeks up to meet the Sheriff’s eyes. The Sheriff, however, is looking over at Stiles.
Stiles picks up his fork and twirls it heavily in the air. “My mom died. When I was a kid,” he admits.
Derek always hates people’s reactions to hearing that his parents died. They’re always too forced, too awkward, or uncomfortably sympathetic. But being on the other side of things he suddenly understands how hard it is to react appropriately to that kind of loss.
He settles for subtly sneaking a hand under the table and dropping it onto Stiles’s thigh. It’s a move he’s pretty sure the Sheriff doesn’t miss. “I’m sorry,” Derek says, looking at Stiles and then at the Sheriff as well.
The Sheriff nods at him. “Me too.” Derek looks back down at his plate, at the green beans straight from the can, and chicken straight off of the warmer at the grocery store. It’s a dinner than reeks of the absence of a mother, and reminds him too much of his own nightly dinners at home.
He feels Stiles’ hand drop onto his own and give it a squeeze. “So, now that we’ve gone through the both the interrogation and emotional baggage unpacking phases to this dinner, can we talk about something fun?” Stiles asks with a smile. Derek is extremely grateful for someone who can shift the mood of the room so easily.
The Sheriff grunts and Stiles launches into a discussion about baseball. When he’s done, the Sheriff pins Derek with a look. “Yankees? Or Mets?” he asks.
Derek hesitates for a moment, wondering whether to be honest or give the answer he thinks the Sheriff wants to hear. He decides to be honest. “Mets.”
Both Stiles and his dad visibly sigh and say in unison, “Thanks God.”
Derek laughs. “No way. I thought for sure you’d be Yankees fans. Everyone is.”
“Not everyone,” the Sheriff says. “Only incredibly unoriginal people who can’t think for themselves and don’t believe in the power of pure talent.”
The dinner atmosphere loosens up considerably after that, and Derek finds himself relaxing as he as the Sheriff lowers his defenses.
--
When they’re done with dinner they all pile back into the cruiser so Derek can go back home and Stiles can get his car from LaLuna.
When they pull up in front of Derek’s apartment, both he and Stiles get out of the car. Stiles walks him to the front door and gestures to a blue Jeep sitting just in front of the building. “That’s my baby,” he says.
Derek quirks an eyebrow at him. “You parked in front of my apartment?”
Stiles flushes instantly. “Wishful thinking?” he jokes warily.
“Explains why you were late,” responds Derek with a grin.
Stiles nudges him playfully and puts a hand on Derek’s arm before glancing back over his shoulder. “Okay, looks like my dad’s not leaving.” The Sheriff gives them a cheeky wave from the front seat of the cruiser.
Stiles leans forward slightly, but Derek pulls back. “I’m not about to kiss you in front of your dad.”
“Why not? You did it before,” Stiles pouts.
Derek huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, but I didn’t know it at the time.”
“Whatever,” Stiles says with a wave of his hands. “So…I guess we’re gonna need a rain check on heading upstairs. Unless my dad scared you off. Which is understandable. That was pretty intense for a first date.” Stiles suddenly looks nervous and Derek can’t help but find it completely charming.
Derek decides to mess with him, just to see Stiles’ eyes widen a little bit more. “That was a date?” he teases.
“Um, yeah. I thought it was. Unless you didn’t think so. I was kind of hoping we could go on another one, but if you don’t want to…” Stiles trails off and lets his hand drop from Derek’s arm.
Derek grabs his hand back immediately.
“I was kidding, Stiles.”
“Oh,” Stiles says, visibly relaxing. Then he smacks Derek on the arm. “You scared me you dumbass.”
“Need me to spell it out for you?” Derek teases.
Stiles raises an eyebrow at him. “Actually, that’d be good.”
Derek just smiles at him. “Yes, Stiles. That was a date. And I’d like to go on another one too. Maybe a few of them.”
“Really? So my dad didn’t freak you out too much?” Stiles asks, grinning broadly.
“Really,” Derek says, leaning in closer. “Your dad was great. Once we got past the horribly awkward introduction.”
"I blame you for that," Stiles declares.
“Me?” asks Derek incredulously.
Stiles nods. “Yes, you. If you weren’t so hot with your blushing and your ridiculous stubble and the way you roll your hips… “
Derek blinks at him. “Okay. We’re definitely going to need a rain check on going upstairs.”
Stiles bites his lip and looks up at Derek cheekily. “Is my dad still looking?” he asks.
Derek raises his eyes to see the Sheriff still staring straight at them.
"Yes," he says quietly.
"Well then he’d better shut his eyes," Stiles whispers before leaning in and pressing his lips against Derek’s.
It’s been one week and four days since his father screwed up and took him to the same hospital one too many times. One week and four days since Nurse McCall pulled him aside and asked, “Is he hurting you?” and he said, “Yes,” for the first time. Or, the one where Stiles is tech support and fixes more than just Isaac's computer.
