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Derek’s patience is wearing really, incredibly thin. He’s exhausted and humiliated and all he wants to do is go home, eat some noodles and fall asleep in front of the TV.
He’s been talking to four bachelorettes by now, all hand-picked by her mother, all of them extremely attractive and so, so dull. He’s currently sat with bachelorette number five, and he can feel the prickly way his mom is staring at them, probably wishing he’s going to produce her some grandbabies right there. (Well, maybe not right there. That would cause a scandal and Talia Hale is nothing but classy.)
Derek nods at whatever the woman is saying, just desperately trying to stay awake. It would be really rude of him to fall asleep in the middle of her sentence, now wouldn’t it? But when he can’t fight his eyelids anymore, he stops her with a stern smile, tells her she looks beautiful tonight and excuses himself for some water.
Cora's gotten married, and everything is beautiful, her included. She’d wanted to have her wedding in the Hale lands, and whatever Cora wants, she gets. There’s a big ass tent up in the backyard and everything is glittering in white and gold, and Derek should be able to just be happy for his little sister instead of slaving over her mother’s wishes. Derek wonders briefly whether anyone has ever managed to drown themselves with a glass of water.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you,” Talia appears next to him.
“I’m sorry, mom,” Derek hangs his head. “I really tried.”
Talia looks at him, shakes her head. “I know you think I’m doing this for myself, but that’s not it. I’m worried, Derek.”
“You shouldn’t be,” Derek mumbles. It’s not the first or the last time they’re having this conversation, but at least Talia usually pretends to be somewhat cheery about it. Now she just seems upset, and no son ever wishes to be the reason for their mom’s sadness. “I’m doing fine.”
And the thing is that Derek really is fine, thank you. He’s got a great job he genuinely enjoys, wonderful friends, and he loves his family. So what if he doesn’t have anybody to come home to? He could always get a dog.
Talia purses her lips, looks over to the dance floor where Cora’s swirling around in her white dress, and Isaac, her husband, gazes adoringly at her. They’re surrounded by a bunch of people, as happy as them. “Don’t you want that, Derek?”
Derek raises his brow. “I don’t think I’m gonna wear a white dress for my wedding, if there’ll ever be one.”
“You know what I mean,” Talia smacks at his chest. “You could wear a damn potato sack for all that I care. I just don’t want you to be alone for the rest of your life, is that too much to ask for?”
Derek rolls his eyes. “I’m only 33.”
“When I was your age, I had already given birth to two children,” Talia sniffles.
“Oh, come on, that’s just not fair,” Derek argues. He’s tired, he’s so, so tired, and he’s just about to give up on his life and his mother, when he spots the guy. He’s wearing a red suit and Derek wonders how on Earth he couldn’t have seen him before, and he’s got a gorgeous face and wide, wide shoulders, and Derek’s not too ashamed to admit he’s a little hard in his pants.
Who is that?
“Mom,” he swallows.
“What, Derek? What pain do you wish upon me, this time?”
“I have to go,” Derek says.
“But – Derek!”
Derek doesn’t hear. He is completely unable to take his eyes off the guy. What is this newfound gravity where the guy is the center of his entire universe?
Derek is a stalker. Sue him. He watches the guy from a distance, how he laughs and dances and eats his cake, and he’s never been this taken by a stranger before. Then he hits the jackpot: the guy talks with Laura for a while, and right after he’s gone, Derek dives down to fill the seat next to her. Laura takes one look at his face and knows just what’s up, like she usually does. “Spill,” she says.
“You know mom’s tortured me enough and I’m already humiliated, so I need you to not to laugh, ok?” Derek’s face is burning but he doesn’t care. “Who’s that?”
“Who?”
“The guy you were just talking with.”
“Stiles? Oh, he’s Cora’s boss,” Laura reveals. “Why?”
“Stiles? As in Stiles Stilinski?” Derek’s in a shock.
Laura laughs. “I know, right? He certainly grew up well.”
Derek remembers Stiles from high school with his flailing limbs and burning obsession for comic books. Derek’s a few years older than Stiles so he never really even spoke to him, but he does remember him. Now he’s looking at the grown-up version and doesn’t think he’ll be able to forget ever again. “Yeah, yeah he did.”
Laura smiles at him softly. “He’s here alone.”
“What do I care.” Derek knows he’s completely transparent, but he’s gotta hold on to some of his pride.
“Nothing. Just thought you’d want to know.”
Laura leaves to dance and Derek’s left wondering.
Stiles is picking his fill through the dessert table. He’s alone and his suit pulls Derek in like a firefly, so Derek’s standing next to him before he even realizes he’s moved.
But now that he’s here, he can’t just stand around like a weirdo, so he clears his throat and picks up a few chocolates. “Hi,” he says.
Stiles turns and he’s even more beautiful up close, Derek is so fucked. “Hi,” Stiles says, and then freezes for some reason. “Oh, hello.”
“I’m Derek, Cora’s brother,” Derek offers. His heart is beating wildly.
Stiles puts his plate down so they can shake hands. “Stiles. Hi.”
“I know,” Derek slips and hurries to cover it up. “I mean, I remember you. From school.”
“You do? I mean, it’s been years.”
“Sure,” Derek smiles. “You’re the Marvel guy.”
Stiles makes a face at him. “Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”
“Maybe because Batman is entirely capable of whooping all the Avengers’ asses, combined,” Derek smirks.
Stiles is outraged. “Oh, so it’s like that, is it,” he picks up his plate and turns on his heels.
Derek feels cold. Less than 30 seconds speaking with the guy, and he’s screwed up already. Great work, Derek. Are we happy, now? He feels a little like crying, but then Stiles turns back to look at him.
“Well? Talk comics to me,” he says, eyebrows raised, and conquers a corner table just for the two of them.
Derek hasn’t ever been in such a hurry in his entire life.
He doesn’t remember the last time he’s had this much fun. Derek is socially awkward, he knows it, everybody knows it, but Stiles doesn’t mind that he stumbles with his words at times, that he expresses his opinions very strongly and prefers listening to talking. Stiles is funny and sarcastic and Derek is halfway in love.
Stiles is finishing his third glass of wine and they’re grinning at each other like idiots. “You have such a cute smile,” Stiles says, looking at Derek with such warmth it makes Derek’s leg twitch.
“I – uh, thanks?”
“You’re welcome,” Stiles says. He’s circling his fingers around his glass, and it’s driving Derek crazy. “Now’s your turn.”
“To do what?”
“Come on, tell me how awesome I am.” Stiles pokes gently at Derek beneath the table.
Stiles is laughing and Derek knows it’s meant as a joke, but he can’t stop himself from blurting, “I wonder how your fingers would feel like inside me.”
Stiles’ mouth drops open and Derek is so, so ashamed, god, what is wrong with him? His mom was right, he will die alone and that will be entirely his own fault.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I’ll go now,” he’s amazed he can even talk out loud, and he rises from his seat and gets the fuck away, leaving Stiles behind doing his best impersonation of a golden fish.
Derek’s been sitting outside in the garden for fifteen minutes and he swears he’s never leaving again. He’ll become one with the trees and the dirt, and he’ll be used as a warning example for children about what happens to people who lust after cute guys in red suits.
Derek stares at the ground, basking in his misery and loneliness, when he hears footsteps behind him. “Go away, Laura,” he grumbles, absolutely sure it’s his older sister who’s come after him. She’s always known where he likes to hide when he’s brooding. It’s a gift and a curse at the same time.
“Can I sit?” comes a cautious voice, and Derek wants to die. Just shoot him now and he’ll be forever happy.
He does nod because he’s not been raised by full wolves, but doesn’t lift his gaze. There’s a warmth next to him and Derek doesn’t know how to deal with it so he doesn’t.
There’s a silence and a sigh, and Derek’s mentally preparing to be told what a pervert he is, when Stiles whines, “Do you even know how pretty you are right now.”
“I... what?”
“This is ridiculous,” Stiles snaps. “Look, I – did you mean it?” he demands, but Derek can’t answer. He doesn’t think he’s even alive anymore.
“Derek. Look at me.” Stiles speaks softly, gently, and lets out the magic word: “Please.”
Derek has no other choice but to do just so. He thinks he could lose himself in Stiles' eyes. Stiles doesn't seem angry at all, and that's the only reason Derek nuts up. "I meant it."
The smile that spreads upon Stiles' face is breathtaking. He curls his hand around Derek’s nape, closes the space between them, and then they’re kissing. It’s cautious, at first, but then Derek bites at Stiles’ bottom lip, coercing a moan out of him, and then it’s all tongues and wandering hands, and oh, hello, the boner is back.
They apart reluctantly once Stiles needs to breathe, and he’s giggling against Derek’s neck, petting at his stubble with obvious interest. “I kinda can’t believe this is happening.”
“Yeah,” Derek agrees, and he can’t take his hand off Stiles’ thigh.
“No, I don’t think you get it,“ Stiles looks at him, smiling strangely. He leans close to Derek’s ear. “I’ve wanted you to fuck me since I was 14.”
Derek is so red he’s amazed he’s not bursting in flames. “You never said anything.”
“Dude, have you seen you?”
“Yeah.”
Stiles sighs. “Are you really making me say it out loud?”
“Apparently,” Derek blinks.
“You’re so out of my league it’s not even funny,” Stiles snorts.
He's right, that's not funny at all. Derek loses his temper. “Are you mad? Look – look at yourself,” he wants to kill everyone and everything that’s ever made Stiles believe such nonsense of himself. “Your eyes, and your nose, and I really want to pull on your hair – your mouth, jesus, you should be illegal, and your hands, well, you already know about that, and, and,” he’s struggling for air, “And that fucking suit. It’s ridiculous, you’re ridiculous. Shame on you.”
Stiles stares at him in wonder, laughs a little, then waggles his eyebrows. “Maybe you should take it off me, if it’s so offending.”
“Maybe I should,” Derek nods. He still can’t breathe properly.
“Good,” Stiles grins.
“Great,” Derek agrees, puts his hands on Stiles’ jacket and kisses him stupid.
They’re hiding behind the bushes, Derek’s hand down Stiles’ pants and Stiles’ neck tender from beard burn, when Laura stumbles upon them. She lets out a shocked little gasp – Derek’s eyes are wide as saucers and Stiles just can’t stop grinding against his hand – and grins.
“I’m telling mom,” she says and leaves, no doubt running off to Talia.
Derek and Stiles are left staring at each other. “Should we – “ Stiles swallows, gesturing after her.
“Yeah, probably,” Derek admits. He can’t make himself move; takes in the way Stiles’ mouth is hanging wide open, how lovely he is, how thick and wet he feels in his hand. “But I’m gonna make you come, first, if you don’t mind.”
Luckily, Stiles has zero objections to that.