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"Nice sweater," Derek says as Stiles walks into the room.
Stiles frowns down at himself, tugging at his great-aunt's sweater to adjust it over his belly. "It's purple."
"Yes, it is."
"It makes me look like a plum."
Derek rolls his eyes.
"A plump plum," Stiles says. "Wait. Do you think there's some kind of entymological link there? Because—"
"Stiles?"
"Yes?"
"It's etymological. And we're going to be late."
Stiles frowns, looking down at himself again. "Why would they have called it apples and pears when plum was a much better alternative? It's not even the plum/plump thing. Some apples aren't even that round, but have you ever met a plum that didn't look like a little pot belly?"
Derek sighs. "If you don't want to wear the sweater, why don't you just put something else on so we can go?"
"Because!" Stiles throws his arms in the air. The purple sweater rides up and Stiles quickly tugs it back down. Though not quickly enough to miss Derek's eyes snapping right to where half his belly was suddenly on display, pupils darkening. Stiles feels himself flush. "Look, dude, it's cool that you're down with my freshman fifteen... fifteens. But you don't have to pretend it's sexy."
"Since when am I pretending?"
"Since your response to seeing my gut hanging out is looking like you want to throw me on the bed and have your way with me!"
Derek raises an eyebrow.
"Not that you could throw me anywhere. I'm getting a little too heavy for that kind of thing."
"Stiles. It's, what, like 30 pounds? And I am a werewolf, remember?"
Stiles glances down at himself, and the belly filling out the purple sweater.
They've only been together since the summer, but Derek's always been good about his weight. Though, it's only fair, really, since he's the one who ruined Stiles's plans to spend his senior year getting himself back in fighting shape so he could come back to Beacon Hills and woo the guy. Instead, Stiles had been plump from stress-eating his way through Junior-year finals when Derek had ended years of fighting and pining and anticipation by simply interrupting Stiles — mid-rant about the latest Star Wars movie — with a kiss.
It hadn't been unwelcome. Obviously. But it was a bit anti-climactic. And the months that have followed of seeing Derek Hale smile on a regular basis have distracted Stiles from his plans to do something about this college weight.
Not to mention that a few new pounds of holiday weight aren't exactly helping his physique. And it's only the beginning of December.
Stiles isn't usually this self-conscious about it, though. It's just hard not to be when one finds oneself looking like a plum.
"It might be more like thirty-five pounds," he admits.
"Thirty-five, then."
"Or maybe forty-five?"
"Okay."
Derek steps forward and lays a hand on the side of Stiles's round belly. Stiles tries to suck it in a little. It doesn't make much difference.
"Look, Stiles, I think your belly is fun. You know that."
"Yeah," Stiles scoffs. "In bed."
"Yes." Derek frowns. "Isn't that the exact definition of thinking it's sexy?"
Stiles bites his lip.
"I know what you're getting for Christmas now," Derek says.
"What?"
"A dictionary."