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1. Stiles likes sweet things
2. Derek takes his coffee as black as his personality
Stiles grew up at the Sheriff's station. While he was a kid, riddled with untreated ADHD and an affinity for getting in trouble, the only place Claudia and Noah could keep him occupied was at the front desk with Marie. The short but stern brunette had a fire in her eyes that kept Stiles at bay and the boy basically threw himself into making her proud of him; perhaps that's where his infatuation with the exceptionally intelligent and slightly terrifying began.
Marie did everything she could to get Stiles to stay out of the way, which included perfecting her Don't-You-Even-Think-About-Thinking-About-That glare (vaguely resembling a certain glare he's exceptionally familiar with by now). Much to his father's chagrin that also meant introducing the kid to caffeine, which ironically was one of the only things that could calm him down. Unfortunately for everyone involved, the only caffeine at the Sheriff's station was thanks to an old beat up coffee maker that had definitely outlived its years.
Not a single soul could get that machine to produce a decent cup of coffee and for everyone in the building, not one person could remember to bring in some creamer or even a cup of sugar. Stiles suspects everyone had gotten used to the bitter flavor of the ancient coffee maker long ago and that no one actually minded.
It was almost like an initiation; if you could handle the coffee, you were part of the team.
So he took it with a grain of salt, holding back the face of regret every time he took a sip of coffee, black as the mysterious stain on the floor of the last jail cell. Eventually he built up an iron stomach and a tolerance for the vaguely burnt and somehow that made him feel proud, like he was part of the department, part of the team (as much as an eight year old could be).
As he got older, the bitter flavor meant late nights, a light in the dark, the laughter of grown men past their bedtimes, the smiles of deputies as he dropped by. It felt like home.
Stiles always assumed, black as Derek's heart seemed to be, that he'd take his coffee the same way. That was, until, he started spending more late nights at the loft than at the station; the light above the stove his temporary desk lamp, the books scattered across the old wooden table, and Derek lurking over his shoulder as if glaring at the pages of Latin would somehow make him able to read it.
Stiles rolled his eyes and got up as gracefully as he could with a very numb backside. “All right, big guy,” he muttered as he waddled over to the coffee maker, much newer and way more expensive than the one he was used to mastering. He made two cups, set one in front of his vacated chair, and one at the place across from him.
Derek glared at it, as he did everything else. Stiles lifted his eyebrows and gestured vaguely at the cup before sitting back in front of his own. Derek followed his glare to the seat and took a tentative sip and, though he would probably deny it if anyone asked, made a face similar to the one Stiles imagines he made after his first shot of tequila. It took everything in him not to laugh.
The brooding hulk of muscle didn't mention it, but he kept drinking the coffee even though Stiles knew he was cringing even more on the inside. He didn't know if Derek was a regular coffee drinker (though the coffee maker in his loft did seem to be well-used and expensive) or if it was just black coffee he wasn't a fan of, but one day on his way to the loft he picked up one black coffee and just for fun, asked the barista what the most ridiculously White Girl drink she'd ever made was, and promptly ordered it (though he felt a little guilty and slipped a five into the tip jar with a shrug).
When he marched his way into the loft Derek was reading on the couch, and Stiles quickly and quietly placed the too-tall-too-sugary-too-fluffy drink on the coffee table by his head before shuffling into the kitchen to crack open more of the Latin bestiaries from the other night.
He could practically feel the glare from the living room burning a hole into his forehead. But despite the theatrics, when Stiles entered the living room an hour later, the drink was empty and Derek was asleep with a smile settled at the corner of his lips.
3. Stiles loved his mother until the end
Derek didn't mean for it to happen. He didn't know that by taking a walk he'd end up at the cemetery, that by staying and talking to Laura, the night would sneak up on him, that by taking the long way back to the parking lot he would pass by the Stilinski family plot – the plot that contained two headstones, one for a grandmother he had never met and one for Claudia (“A Memory Never Forgotten” stenciled into the stone). Laying in a heap on the grass in front of the latter was none other than a very pale and very drunk Stiles.
He should have heard another heartbeat, should have noticed the stench of cheap whiskey twisted with the scent of Stiles; the soft caramel and scent of sunshine dulled, covered with salt and musk. He must have been too deep in his thoughts to notice.
He hesitated. They weren't really friends, never really talked, usually just sat in silence with a few shared quips of something harsh but familiar dripping in sarcasm. He sat in the grass and touched the boy's shoulder. Derek was surprised the boy seemed unphased, just sat up and looked at him like he expected it, or like Derek hadn't just come out of nowhere in a place he really shouldn't be.
He pulled his hand away from Stiles and turned to face the stones. Their shoulders brushed as if Stiles' body was seeking support he didn't really want. The silence permeated the air for a few thick minutes while they both thought of what to say. Did they need to say anything? They both knew why they were there, both knew the other wasn't quite okay, both knew what it felt like to lose someone too early.
Derek began to notice the sharp but bitter scent of guilt, deep in his throat like a sickening haze. It wasn't sudden or abrupt, it was slow like a wave of molasses crashing over him, filling his throat and clogging his lungs, suffocating him. He glanced out of the corner of his eye, noticed the slight tremble in Stiles' fingers though the knuckles on his knees were white, as if he was trying desperately to stop.
Derek knew how that felt, didn't quite know what to say.
“Laura hated bugs.”
It came out of nowhere, Derek wasn't sure why he said it, it just came out. Stiles' eyebrow twitched, a vague expression of confusion directed at the stone in front of him.
“She tried to act tough all the time because she was 'The Next Alpha',” the air quotes heavy in his voice, “Cora used to torture her whenever she got annoyed with the commands. She'd try to find the biggest bug she could and chase Laura around with it until Mom told her to stop. I always thought Cora was the coolest little kid, even though she was like eight.”
Stiles chuckled a bit, and Derek bit the inside of his cheek to stop the smile.
Silence claimed them again and Derek wanted to slap himself for being too awkward in sad situations. Any other emotion he could handle – but sadness, loss, despair; those were the hardest.
“I hated her,” the whisper finally came, quiet, as if Stiles didn't want anyone to hear; didn't want to hear it himself. “Not always, obviously.”
His voice was getting stronger, but still a whisper. Derek didn't know if he should be hearing this, if it's just the alcohol making Stiles talk, but he also didn't want to interrupt and risk Stiles feeling even worse.
“She was great when I was little, before...” he trailed off, “Before. When Dad was on a long shift at the station, she would take me to the park and we'd have these little make-shift picnics in the shade.”
Stiles glanced at Derek out of the corner of his eye, a distant smile playing at the edges of his lips. Derek could hardly breathe, they never usually talked much and never about their families.
“One time she said she could name every fish in the pond and I didn't believe her, so she sat me down next to the water and called out all their names.”
“Did she know them?” Derek whispered.
Stiles laughed, a shockingly loud laugh that vibrated through Derek's bones and oddly enough, his chest felt just a little bit warmer.
“No way,” he said. “She literally just pointed and called out names like 'Steve' and 'Paul'. I thought it was hilarious, I though she was the smartest person ever.”
Derek smiled at the boy, pictured a skinny little kid with unruly hair and a smattering of moles across his cheeks. He saw him smiling, his eyes sparkling next to his mother with a look of absolute adoration in his eyes and Derek's breath caught in his throat, like the glow of whiskey eyes was choking him and pulling the air right from his lungs.
“She tried to hold on as long as she could, but eventually she just... wasn't there anymore.” He took a breath, voice wavering in time with the tremble of his fingers. “She hated me.”
Derek wanted to interrupt and tell Stiles he was wrong, reassure him that Claudia couldn't have possibly hated him, that his mother loved him until the end but Stiles knew what he was going to say and cut him off before he even opened his mouth to speak.
“She did. I know, because she told me.”
And Derek's heart broke just a little more inside.
“Over and over again, she'd tell me how terrible I was, how I ruined her life and she wished she'd never had me, would never see me again,” and his voice tapered off once more. They sat in total silence, Derek not knowing quite what to say. He already knew he was bad at comforting people but now he was just at a loss. In the dark, Stiles hands stilled and Derek couldn't keep his eyes off of them.
“She used to hit me.”
It was like everything in the cemetery went completely silent. Derek didn't know if the sound of blood in his ears was his own, Stiles', or a memory. He didn't know if the words caught in his throat were helpful, hurtful, or just tears begging to escape. He thought of Isaac and how much he despised the man who raised him, wanted nothing more than to watch him suffer, and was silently glad when the man was found dead.
He didn't know if he was supposed to hate Claudia, too.
“My dad would try to help her remember. He tried to remind her that I was her son and I loved her but she just... she couldn't see it anymore. She got so... frantic whenever I went near her and at one point I wasn't even allowed in her room anymore. I just... I hated her so much.
“And I know it wasn't her fault, I know she wouldn't have chosen to lose everything but I-” he choked on his next words. Derek reached out a hand to Stiles' and he grasped it so tightly, as if he needed it to stay alive. He didn't sound drunk anymore, his voice not steady but not slurring. He took a breath.
“I didn't feel guilty about hating her, either. I was just angry. I hated that my mother was being taken from me, I hated that I knew she was dying and I couldn't do anything about it, I hated that I couldn't see her and all I could do was sit in the hallway as she yelled at me through the door.
“I never told anyone. I don't know what my dad would think if he knew, and I don't...”
The hand around Derek's loosened just a bit. Stiles voice went back to a whisper, like the first whisper, the one Stiles himself probably couldn't hear but knew Derek could. It was just a breath, a broken sweep of the air that cut through Derek's ears like a knife.
“I know she died hating me, but I don't know how she'd feel if she knew I hated her back.”
Stiles leaned into Derek's shoulder and Derek could feel the cold tears on his neck. He held back a shiver and all he could do was hold the boy until he was sober enough to drive home with the sun creeping past the horizon.
4. Stiles made the first move
5. Derek isn't good with his words
Derek was never one to beat around the bush. With Paige he was direct, taunted her like a kid pulling pigtails until she stopped pushing him away. With Kate he was forward, or as forward as a high school senior could be around a hot substitute teacher. He didn't like playing hard-to-get, didn't understand the appeal of wasting time.
It should have been a red flag that Kate had responded to him so quickly, but Derek wasn't exactly used to rejection at seventeen, figured he had a charm that was far stronger than it actually was. He stayed after, asked for lessons he didn't need, gently pushed her hair out of her face when he shouldn't have touched her.
He was apprehensive after that. In New York he didn't date, he didn't let anyone get too close but that never stopped him from going out. With Laura breathing down his neck it was hard to do much else than one night stands, but he was also grateful for the excuse.
The two siblings stuck together for the most part, though they responded to the loss of their family in different ways. Laura threw herself into her studies, using work as a distraction. She was always so confident and sure as a teenager, but after the fire she took a turn for the introverted. It was hard for her to trust after that.
After Peter, he could see why. Nothing would ease the pain of guilt, the knowledge that the fire was as much his fault as any of Kate's other accomplices, nothing could clear his mind of his participation and the conceited confidence of youth that had started it. But, he was also leaning on the fact that he hadn't lost himself as much as Peter had. He took a sick sort of comfort from that, though the weight of guilt intensified from the thought.
After Kate, after Laura, after Peter, he figured he had changed so much. When Jennifer came along, he knew he hadn't. She was annoying, she was helpless, but she was cute. Brown eyes with a sharp wit had always been his weakness. He knew, looking back on it, that she had put some sort of glamour on him, made his mind fuzzy, stopped him from asking questions or putting the pieces together, but the interest was his, the pursuit was his.
He liked having someone to care for, enjoyed the soft touches, the whispered confessions, the electricity on his skin from the flowery breath of her pink-stained lips. It was something he discovered with Paige, played with with Kate, indulged in with all his hook-ups in New York and remembered again with Jennifer.
After everything he went through he could finally take comfort from knowing he was still a romantic, something Laura and Cora had always made fun of him for but what his mother and father adored of him. There was still a part of him that he knew his mother loved and if there was ever a point of pride throughout any of his relationships it was how genuinely he loved.
The realization, after Jennifer had gone and the pack had left, filled him like the stale water that flooded his loft. It soaked up every pore and clogged his throat and for once he didn't want to dive into the rolling liquid; to hide his tears until no one remembered that Derek Hale had any emotion beside Anger. For once he embraced the emotion running through him like a thousand wolves on the full moon, the silver light coating their fur and the stars whispering their approval.
With Braeden it was harder. She was harder. She was cold, rough. She reminded him of Laura and all her heavily guarded walls, only this time he was an outsider. Braeden let herself into his bed, but she didn't let him into her life.
Still, the nights she would let her guard down and whisper against the skin of his shoulder before sleep took them both, the nights she would let herself go and gently scrape her blunt nails against the nape of his neck, he craved those. He craved those moments more then she would allow, and they both acknowledged it was best when she left without telling him where she went.
Derek wasn't one to beat around the bush. So when he started noticing Stiles in his space more often – dropping Derek's favorite drink on the table when he stopped by even though no one else knew he had a sweet tooth, when he sat curled into the couch on bad days because he knew Derek would listen, when he took over the desk in the loft for supernatural research, and the coffee table for his school work, when he started leaving lasting touches on Derek's arm or his shoulder – he wasn't about to hold back.
Stiles gave Derek all the sweet and gentle touches he craved from his past relationships, and the man didn't even notice. So Derek took matters into his own hands.
He started playing into Stiles' space as much as the man did to him. He started pushing his buttons like he did when they first met, though this time he smirked like he did with Paige. When Stiles was feeling down or confused, Derek listened like he did with Jennifer. He plaid cocky, sometimes, like he did with Kate.
But Stiles wasn't like any of them, and Derek wanted more each time. He started pulling out dirty jokes, like he did with Laura when they were kids, and Stiles' reactions had Derek preening with a sort of mischief he thought he lost a long time ago.
Stiles drove Derek crazy with his innuendos, knew he drove just about everyone but Scott crazy with them, and Derek thought of Laura as a teenager, indulging Derek with inappropriate banter their mother hated.
The first time he let the jokes slip, Stiles didn't exactly know how to react. They were getting ready for Pack Night at Scott's house, Stiles stopping by because he'd left his computer on Derek's kitchen table the night before. Stiles was impatiently standing by the door of the loft, waiting for Derek to finish putting his shoes on, waving and gesturing his arms in the direction of the hallway outside the loft.
“Are you coming or what?” he whined impatiently.
Derek snorted under his breath “Not without a little help,” he muttered just loud enough for Stiles to hear.
“Help?” he ask, confusion dripping sardonically from his lips, “Help with what?”
The werewolf stood from his seat on the couch, both shoes on his feet and smirk on his face. He leaded into Stiles as he passed, casually strolling through the door. “Everyone needs a little help to come now and then.”
He was halfway down the hallway before he realized Stiles wasn't behind him. He looked back, seeing that the loft door was still open. Listening in, he could hear Stiles' heart slowing and speeding up irregularly as the boy tried to think through what just happened. It took all Derek had to not burst out laughing then and there.
“Unbelievable,” he heard the boy mutter before finally walking through the door of the loft and sliding the heavy metal closed. It took an hour before Stiles could look Derek in the eye again, and a few more jokes over the course of a week until Stiles was laughing and throwing jokes back. It felt like Laura was with him again, and every time Stiles laughed at Derek's dirty jokes the werewolf felt just that bit more confident and sure of himself, just a bit lighter than he was the day before.
The way Stiles always looked for trouble reminded Derek of Cora. The way he threw himself into adventure and didn't mind getting his hands dirty was so nostalgic. The day Scott interrupted Stiles tending his magical herbs just to lecture him about pack safety, Derek remembered vibrantly the lectures Laura would force upon them. The look on Stiles face – bored, impassive, restrained – looked so much like Cora that Derek caught his breath. Stiles glanced at him curiously when Derek nudged him, pointing out a particularly slimy looking worm in the dirt.
Stiles laughed silently, picking the worm up and chucking it right at Scott. His eyes twinkled so mischievously as the other Alpha screamed that Derek almost wanted to cry. His throat burned at the force of emotion he didn't know how to hide, and Stiles looked so thrilled and oblivious that Derek decided right then and there he wanted to keep Stiles forever.
The next day at Derek's loft, while Stiles was in the kitchen making dinner for them both, he slipped in behind the younger man and wrapped his arms around Stiles' waist. The boy didn't startle, was used to the touches by now, and leaned into the heat at his back. The scents of citrus, jasmine, and sunshine filled his nose as he felt Stiles' contentment and happiness.
“Aren't you a bit domestic,” he teased to the younger man, feeling the soft fabric of Stiles' worn t-shirt under his palm.
“Only for the best,” Stiles said back.
“Am I your best?” Derek asked, moving his hands from Stiles' waist to around his shoulders, holding the boy in a loose hug.
Stiles' laughed a bit, taking the gentle teasing in stride, not really paying attention to the conversation. He glanced at Derek out of the corner of his eye briefly before turning his attention back to chopping carrots. “Of course, who else? I don't see Lydia Martin anywhere so by default you're it.”
“So you'll definitely go on a date with me, then.”
Stiles paused the chopping, his heart almost vibrating through his chest. Derek was sure that even if he weren't a werewolf he would have been able to feel and hear the boy's heart just as loudly.
“Are you serious?” he asked, turning in Derek's arms. His eyes were clear, though a little confused, like when Lydia was trying to explain archaic Latin. Derek pulled away just enough to place his hands back on Stiles' hips.
“I'm always serious about you, Stiles. You remind me of my family, make it feel like they're still alive.” He looked into Stiles' eyes, as if they held all the answers because they did, because it was Stiles and Derek knew everything about him, could communicated with him when he didn't want to use words, knew how to talk to him when he found exactly the right ones. “You're loud and crude and smart. You're unbelievably stupid and also the second smartest person I've ever met.”
Stiles laughed, speechless for nearly the first time in his life.
“I hated this town before I met you, I hated this loft before you were part of it. You make everything feel like home and I want to keep you locked up here forever.”
“A little creepy, but keep going,” Stiles whispered.
“You remind me of who I was before the fire and for the first time since, I actually want to think about the future.”
“If you start singing 'Truly, Madly, Deeply,' I might actually start crying.”
Derek laughed, unable to look away from the deep whiskey of Stiles' eyes, heated in a way whiskey shouldn't be but Derek wanted to drink in anyway.
“Since when did you get so good with words? I always thought they were too hard for you,” Stiles smirked.
“Mmm there's only one thing that's too hard when you're around.”
“Oh my God!”
Derek couldn't stop laughing.
6. The Pack knew about Sterek before Sterek did
It wasn't difficult at all to slip into relationship-mode with Derek. In fact, they really didn't act much different in front of the pack than they did before. Stiles always hated public displays of affection aside from light touches, knew how uncomfortable it could make people (thank you Scott) who were forced to watch. He also didn't like sharing Derek's I'm-Totally-In-Love-With-This-Idiot gooey eyes, those were reserved for him only.
So, they kept kisses and sickeningly-sweet conversation behind closed doors... or behind corners, or away from other pack, or pretty much anywhere they could be alone for half a second. The gentle touches, scent marking, banter, and innuendos remained fair game though. It was only after the first few pack meetings since they started dating that Stiles began to realize something was off.
The first pack meeting went as always, Stiles sat practically on top of Derek, and Derek kept at least one hand on Stiles at all times; the back of his neck, tapping rhythms into his shoulder, brushing across his arm instead of listening to conversation. There was flirting and innuendo, the pack either rolling their eyes or joining in (in Erica's case). And the second meeting a week later went about the same.
It wasn't until the third that Stiles started to think. Scott was one thing, but comments made by a few of the others began worming their way into his brain. After the suspicions began, it was much easier to pick out during conversation.
Stiles was laughing to himself one night, wrapped up in Derek's blankets and staring at the phone in his hands.
“Whats so funny?” Derek asked, kissing his shoulder before shuffling into the bathroom to get ready for bed.
“You'll never believe this, but I'm pretty sure the whole pack has no idea we're dating,” Stiles replied.
Derek scoffed around his toothbrush, rinsing his mouth out before returning to the bed and sliding in next to his boyfriend.
“Not possible. We've talked about dates in front of them.”
“Yeah but like, Scott totally tried to set me up with that girl from the library last week,” Stiles said, showing Derek the conversation he was talking about.
“Scott is Scott, the pack is everyone else.”
“Ouch, rude, Boo. Scotty may be special, but what about this one?”
He flipped through his texts, pulling up one from Erica. The time stamp was for the other day.
“Batman don't be jealous just because I'm getting' summmm!!”
Derek huffed, his breath tickling Stiles cheek. “She was just joking around because she blew off your Girls' Night plans.”
“Ignoring the comment about girls night,” he muttered while Derek chuckled into his pillow. “This is from Isaac just now.”
“Sure id invite u but its couples only, also u wouldn't shut up abt my scarf yesterday so suck it.”
“Dude me and derek r the bees knees.”
“Also ur scarf is still dumb”
“it's socal, get over urself”
“The day u n dere k r a couple is the day I burn my scarf”
That one made Derek pause. There was no misinterpreting that one for something else, Isaac genuinely didn't sound like he knew they were dating. Scott was one thing, but Isaac? It wasn't like the kid was typically oblivious, in fact he was the most observant of the pack aside from Boyd.
“Huh,” he muttered.
“I don't think we should tell them,” Stiles laughed, turning fully to look at Derek. The man's hair was already fluffed from the pillows and Stiles couldn't help reaching out to touch.
Derek rolled his eyes and lifted a brow.
“What? It'll be funny.”
The other brow raised to match the first.
“Oh come on, for me? I want to see how long it takes them.”
Derek rolled his eyes again and Stiles knew he won, snuggling closer to Derek until his nose was bunched into the man's chest. Neither really expected it would last much longer, but Stiles was kind of hoping to use it as mockery material in the future, whichever way it ended up.
The next pack meeting was pretty much just movie night. There hadn't been a monster of the week in... well... a few weeks, so there wasn't much to talk about. Instead, they settled on a movie (not picked by Lydia or Stiles) and piled snacks onto Derek's coffee table.
“I can't believe you have a coffee table now, it's like you're a whole entire person and not just a caveman,” Stiles teased, chucking a piece of popcorn at Derek's head. He let it hit him without swatting it out of the way and watched it roll into the couch pathetically. Derek lifted his eyebrows and looked from the popcorn to Stiles and back to the popcorn. Stiles huffed and picked the piece up before throwing it directly into his mouth instead of the trash.
Derek rolled his eyes, shaking his head.
“Oh come on, it's not like it went anywhere gross.”
He was met with a very telling silence.
“Just because you're wasteful doesn't mean I am. I'm a college student, I would literally eat off the floor and yet you'd totally still love me.”
Jackson snorted from the loveseat, “I don't know how you can have whole conversations with Derek by yourself. Usually conversations involve two people.”
“Ah Jack-Jack, the language of love knows no bounds,” Stiles replied, kissing Derek on the cheek.
A few members of the pack laughed while Erica asked for a kiss as well. She claimed it wasn't fair that Derek had Stiles' affection while she was his best friend. That comment brought Scott into the conversation and, though she'd never admit it, Lydia huffed and shook her head in disagreement.
“Ladies, Ladies, don't fight over me,” Stiles regaled, winking at Scott. “There's enough to go around as long as it doesn't make Der-Bear jealous.”
Derek rolled his eyes again – seriously if he kept doing that they'd just roll right out of his head – and squeezed the back of Stiles' neck. It felt like home, like it always did.
After the pack left, Stiles joined Derek in the kitchen to help clean up. It always just struck Stiles sometimes, how domestic they were and how good it felt to have Derek like this.
“There's no way they don't know we're dating,” Derek mumbled, back in denial. “You're so obvious always, it's a shock you can keep anything a secret in your life.”
“Hey I resent that, but also acknowledge that I was definitely all over you tonight. Honestly, if they still don't get this after tonight I may just throw my kissing rules out the window and start making out with you in the middle of pack night next time.” Derek laughed quietly, imagining everyone's faces if Stiles were to keep that promise.
“I think you'd scar Scott and Jackson for life.”
“Okay well they've both literally scarred me for life, a little mental damage wouldn't be nearly enough payback.” Stiles paused in loading the dishwasher to spin around with a twinkle in his eye, expression reading nothing less than mischief. “Hey how do you feel about exhibitionism?”
Derek did not, in fact, like exhibitionism. Stiles laughed all night, Derek could have sworn he even heard his boyfriend laughing in his sleep. The line of Stiles' body was warm against his side and Derek pulled the man in closer, winding the blankets tightly around them both. If the pack couldn't see how in love he was with the human next to him then he'd absolutely failed in training them.
***
Derek absolutely failed in training the other betas. Another month had passed, four more movie nights, constant touching, Stiles practically living at Derek's loft, and he'd still catch comments thrown around casually about both of them being single. It was ridiculous, Derek was at a loss for words and also vaguely offended. Was it so odd that he was dating Stiles? The sheriff didn't think so, and Derek had been coming over to weekly dinners at the Stilinski household for just over two months.
Stiles liked to make bets about who would find out first but as the weeks passed with the same old jokes, Stiles was starting to get bored.
“Okay this is insane!” he called, marching into the loft.
Derek looked up from the book he was reading, shifting his feet off the coffee table to give Stiles more of his attention. He was pacing.
“Scott tried to wing man me at the library again today! I politely told the girl that I wasn't interested and that I had a boyfriend and when she walked away Scott straight up asked me why I lied to her. Why does everyone think I'm lying?” He flopped down onto the couch next to said boyfriend, pulling his legs across Derek's lap and leaning back to glare at the high ceiling.
“I know what you mean. Erica dragged me to a bar last night and I said the same thing to a woman who tried to buy me a drink. Erica gave me 'props for the quick thinking',” he replied, trying to add as much sarcasm as he could to the air quotes.
“You know what?” Stiles yelled, abruptly sitting up, “I don't give a shit about PDA anymore, Scott can bleach his eyes for all I care, get over here.” He pulled Derek toward him by the collar of his shirt, bringing him in for a kiss. It was once again pack night and everyone would be arriving within the next two hours. If Stiles wanted to make out with his boyfriend while he waited, with absolutely no regard for whoever walked in on them then he was damn well going to do that.
It only took forty-five minutes until the door was pulled open by half the pack. Jackson was the first to comment with nothing more than an “Oh, ew,” (and Stiles really wishes he saw the guys face for that one). Erica was just cackling by the doorway where Scott still stood frozen.
Stiles took his time pulling away, placing a few more chaste kisses on Derek's lips before looking at the three werewolves.
“How,” Scott started, “When... how?”
Stiles laughed, “Buddy if you're this messed up over a kiss I really don't think you want me to answer that last question.”
Scott looked like a kicked puppy.
“Dude it's literally been two and a half months, it's not our fault you guys are completely oblivious.” He paused. “Okay well maybe it's Derek's fault but I cannot be blamed for this.”
“Hey,” Derek retaliated.
“Oh, what? You're the one who trained them, they should have suspected something by now with their wolfy powers. No, in fact, they should have known even without the wolfy powers, we literally told them about dating.”
Scott balked at the accusations, “We thought you were joking! You're touchy-feely with everyone, not just Derek, and everything you say could be taken platonically!”
“Eh,” Erica cut in, “Stilinski definitely told me he worshiped Derek's dick, I just thought he meant like objectively. I agreed with him.”
“You see!” Stiles yelled.
Erica nodded, “To be fair, that could totally have been objective but yeah that one was on me.”
Scott was still motionless by the door when Lydia marched in, Isaac trailing in behind her with an armload of groceries.
Jackson, who had lost interest in the conversation, perked up again and walked over to Lydia, bypassing the argument entirely.
“Why's everyone just standing in the living room?” Isaac asked, unloading the bags onto the kitchen table.
“Did you know Derek and Stiles are dating?!” Scott yelled, finally closing the door and fully stepping into the loft.
“What?” Isaac exclaimed, marching back into the room. He looked pale as if just now remembering the texts he had sent to Stiles weeks ago.
“That's right, Prince of Darkness, your scarves are mine!” Stiles smirked.
“How long?”
Stiles rolled his eyes. Before he could speak again, though, Lydia pushed past Jackson and joined the conversation.
“Two and a half months, are you all very drunk?” Her perfectly shaped eyebrow was raised as she met the eye of everyone in the room. “Have none of you picked up on this, they've mentioned date night like every week.”
“I thought that was like Girl's Night!” Scott yelled.
“Can we stop calling it Girl's Night?” Stiles asked, unfortunately being met with a resounding “no”
from both Erica and Lydia.
“I cannot believe a room full of werewolves couldn't tell their pack mates have been dating for months now, you are all ridiculous.” Lydia huffed, gracefully falling into the loveseat with her arms crossed. “Did you even train them, Derek?”
“That's what I said!” Stiles called triumphantly. Derek rolled his eyes, but Stiles knew they couldn't have been described as anything less than fond.
Scott whined like a child before throwing himself into the armchair across from Lydia. “Now I can't unsee the bedroom eyes!”
“Yeah, that's gonna be burned into my brain forever,” Jackson muttered
“Oh, like you guys aren't disgusting about your partners? Derek and I literally haven't made out in front of you guys for almost three months, we're the least gross people in this room.”
The group mostly fell silent, aside from Erica who was laughing and agreeing enthusiastically. Derek couldn't believe that this was the group he was stuck with, although as he looked back at Stiles arguing with Isaac once again, he couldn't help but be thankful that he had somehow wound up here. He was definitely adding training back into their schedules, though.