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It’s embarrassing how long it takes Derek to form a strategy on the matter.
It’s embarrassing because he used to be an Alpha.
(Okay, so he sucked at being an Alpha; he went bite-crazy for a couple of days, got a little too cocky, and got in way over his head with Gerard and the Alpha pack.)
It’s also embarrassing because while Laura had been trained for her eventual position as Alpha of the Hale pack, Derek was simultaneously trained to be her right-hand man, which meant strategizing about anything and everything to do with the pack would fall on his head. It’d be his responsibility to advise Laura in making the correct decisions to assure the pack’s safety.
So yeah, the fact that Derek’s absolutely stumped on this matter is mind-boggling.
He stares glumly at the tiny black box on the kitchen counter and the stray piece of paper aptly titled, Ways to Propose to Stiles.
[1] Nature Hike + Picnic
It’s a beautiful sunny day, the aroma of old wood and grass paired with the faint pleasant buzzing of critters around them providing for a picturesque afternoon. Derek smiles at the scene painted before him; if there’s anything he loves more than home, than Stiles, it’s being outdoors. His best memories with his sisters and little cousins were chasing each other, weaving circles around trees in an attempt to catch each other.
Stiles wheezes, kneeling over, attempting to catch his breath. His hair and forehead are plastered with sweat, dripping on to his favorite shirt, as he struggles to carry the backpack packed with a big blanket and some protein bars for the hike.
“Der, fuck, we – can – can we stop for a bit?” he heaves, unceremoniously dropping to the ground.
Derek looks at him dolefully and then at the picnic basket in his hand. He glances back at Stiles, who’s now completely on his back, backpack cast to the side, and an arm over his eyes, chest still heaving.
Maybe proposing to the guy who’s seemingly allergic to any sort of physical exercise wasn’t the best idea. Needless to say, he doesn’t get to the proposing part of the plan because Stiles ends up spraining his ankle twenty minutes into the hike and they never actually make it to Derek’s favorite spot.
The ring box tucked away in the side hidden pocket of his windbreaker feels ten times heavier.
[2] Romantic Dinner…ish
A week after Stiles’s ankle heals, Derek decides to surprise him with a romantic dinner night out to celebrate.
“We’re celebrating my ankle healing?” Stiles arches a brow, shooting Derek a flat look. Derek nods, a painfully innocent look on his face. “My ankle that sprained.”
Derek mentally facepalms himself. “Um, yes,” he decides to say instead.
Stiles is still looking at him with a face that’s practically saying ‘You’re up to something and I’m going to find out what’ and Derek – yeah, he has no idea how to go about this. He’s not ashamed to admit that he has the subtlety of a rock. Unlike Scott, he grumbles. Perfect little Scott, who can keep his perfect proposal a perfect secret from his near-perfect—
“I’d much prefer celebrating with you boning me,” Stiles replies casually, interrupting Derek’s train of thought. “In fact, yes, that’s a much better idea! Why don’t I call the restaurant and cancel and then—“
“No!” Derek all but yells.
“No?” Stiles questions, eyebrows raised. He crosses his arms over his chest, giving Derek an unimpressed look. “We haven’t had sex in a whole week, Derek, a whole week, because you refused to even touch me because of a flimsy little strained ankle and now you’d rather to a stupid restaurant for a stupid dinner over sex?”
He wants to say that they don’t need to have sex now because Derek is planning epic we’re-engaged-now sex but his mouth dries at the semi-hurt look Stiles throws at him. Derek curses himself, mind racing through possible excuses when Stiles gives him a slow yet decisive nod.
“Fine,” Stiles huffs, storming away, slams their bedroom door behind him. Derek winces.
That should have gone a lot better than it did.
[3] Scavenger Hunt
Admittedly, this was not one of Derek’s brightest ideas. Technically it was Laura’s because she was very much into the whole over-the-top proposal bits but not them. They were private, okay? And Stiles, as outspoken and outgoing as he is, is intensely private about his personal life, especially his life with Derek.
Y’know, aside from the lewd jokes and over-the-top flirtations and innuendoes.
But he’s lacking in ideas and it took Stiles almost a week to forgive Derek after the dinner and sex fiasco so Derek figures this try has to be amazing. And if there’s one thing that Stiles love more than anything, it’s solving puzzles. Add that to his already competitive nature, Stiles won’t be able to resist the scavenger hunt. When he considers all that, Laura’s idea doesn’t seem too bad.
So he designs the perfect scavenger hunt for a beautiful Sunday. He gets Scott and Allison, Laura, Lydia, Erica, hell even their next-door neighbour involved. He starts by hiding all the sugar. It’s totally cliché but then again, so is how his relationship with Stiles first started so he figures it’s poetic justice. He hides all the sugar in linen closet, which is perfect because Stiles never does laundry – this means the first place he’ll go to get sugar is to Mr Singh next door.
Mr Singh will give him a clue, which will lead him to the bowling alley where Lydia and Jackson will be waiting for him. Jackson’s going to goad him into a game while Lydia will watch like she’s above all the male ego competitiveness and give Stiles the clue for the next location once Stiles wins.
Once Stiles gets to the next place, where Scott and Allison will be waiting for him, and then it’s off too—
The phone in his jacket begins to ring, a shrill tone that hurts his sensitive werewolf ears so much that he actually winces.
“Hello?”
“We have a problem,” Lydia says flatly. She sounds exasperated, annoyed, frustrated.
“What happened?” Derek asks, heart thudding in his chest. The rational part of his brain knows that Lydia’s tone is nowhere near scared so it’s not like Stiles is hurt or anything but he can’t help it. Anytime Derek hears the word ‘problem’, his mind automatically goes to fuck fuck fuck Stiles is hurt fuck this can’t happen Stiles can’t die holy shit what do I do.
“Jackson won’t let Stiles win so I can’t give him the clue,” Lydia snaps from the other end.
This time, Derek actually does facepalm himself.
[4] Baseball Game
For his next attempt, Derek takes them both to a baseball game. If there’s one sport in the whole world that Stiles is passionate about, it’s baseball. Though for the life of him Derek will never understand Stiles’s obsession with the sport but refusing to play it in high school. Whatever.
Point is, he buys the best seats he can for the Dodgers vs. Mets game in Los Angeles and because they’re a long drive away from LA, they decide to make a trip of it for the weekend.
Derek gets a nice hotel for them to stay at, one that’s close to the stadium and goes online to find reviews on good restaurants to try while in LA – not the typical best, classy restaurants but the spots that are adored by locals, hidden away from the attention of the tourists. Stiles loves nothing more than curly fries so he also Googles where to find the best curly fries in all of LA.
The plan is achingly simple this time. They’ll go to the game, have a couple of beers, throw back some peanuts, enjoy their time away from any supernatural troubles and when he takes Stiles out to Frywood, a mecca of all things fried, he’ll pop the question as they’re having dessert.
On paper, the plan is simple and perfect.
In reality, not so much.
Because what Derek doesn’t bank on is Stiles catching the first, and only, foul ball of the game and jumping up and down in awe, all the while yelling how this was officially the best day of his life and nothing will ever top this day.
“Derek! Holy—fuck, I still can’t believe it!” Stiles beams, bouncing in his seat as they wait for his order of nacho curly fries at Frywood. The game was long over but Stiles had refused to part with the ball, often just opting to stare at it with awe. As if it’d suddenly disappear if he takes his eyes off it for one second. “This is the best day ever – oh my God! I can’t wait to tell Dad and Scott – they’re going to be so jealous! Seriously, this is the best day ever! There is no way in hell this day can get any better!”
Stiles begins to munch on his fries happily as soon as they get served, one hand still clasped around the ball.
Derek only dies a little bit inside.
[5] Romantic Dinner, Take Two
Thing is, Derek has to be the one to propose. Not because Stiles expected it to be him but because Derek wants it to be him. Stiles was the first one to ask Derek one, the first one to admit his feelings out loud, the first one to initiate the first time they had sex, the first one to say I love you, the first one to ask to move in together. Stiles has been the first one to fulfill every important milestone in their relationship and as much as Derek loves it, he doesn’t want Stiles to be the one to propose too.
Derek has never been the one to push anything unto Stiles, which was the defining reason why Stiles got so many firsts for their relationship. But now, Derek knows this is it for him. Stiles is it and he wants Stiles to know that too.
It wasn’t until SCOTUS ruled for the legalization of all gay marriages in the US that Derek finally sat down and made his list on how to propose to Stiles. Both of them had heard about the ruling at the same time, Stiles through his phone from social media, Derek from the news playing at the same time and they’d both looked at each other, a mixture of relief and happiness emanating from their pores.
Stiles had immediately jumped off the couch, doing a victory dance, had dragged Derek off his seat and demanded him to join him. He’d covered his face quickly enough but Derek didn’t miss the way Stiles’s eyes glistened with sheer happiness.
So naturally, Derek’s at his wits’ end with this proposing ordeal.
After four failed attempts, he’s willing to try anything. So much so that he actually goes to Lydia and Laura for help and once Laura’s done laughing at his pathetic attempts to propose and he’s over Lydia’s incredibly judgmental look, they brainstorm together.
They all decide that they should try one more time for the romantic dinner since Derek never actually got to it the last time.
This time, Derek gets achingly close. They’ve stuffed themselves full with some amazing Italian food, delicious lobster ravioli for Stiles and gnocchi with truffle oil for Derek. Nerves hit Derek like a freight train, the pocket with the ring box feeling ten times heavier the closer it gets to him actually proposing.
The waiter places two plates of a slice of cheesecake with raspberry coulis in front of them and Derek is just about to get up when they hear a shriek from the other side of the restaurant. Both he and Stiles whip their heads around until they find the source, his thoughts flying to all the possibilities of their restaurant being attacked by yet another creature of the week and of course interrupting his proposal in the process.
Turns out, his proposal does get interrupted but not by a supernatural creature – by another proposal.
The couple in question are seated only a few tables away, close enough for them to see the guy kneeling on the ground in front of his girlfriend, holding a pastel pink ring box in his hand, while she begins to cry with joy. Everyone around them breaks out clapping, Stiles joining in whole-heartedly, his own eyes shining with mirrored happiness.
At least he doesn’t notice the way Derek’s hands claw out, ripping holes into the edge of the tablecloth in the process.
[+1]
He and Stiles barely get inside the apartment after dinner before they practically pounce on each other, fingers carelessly fumbling with buttons and zippers. After nearly four years together, Derek always thought this would get old but it never does.
He pushes Stiles to the wall, kicking the door close behind them, buries his head into Stiles’s neck and breathes deeply. The scent of home and pack and Stiles and love almost sends him careening into his first orgasm but he manages to hold it in.
Derek can feel Stiles smirking because he knows exactly what this is doing to Derek so he bites down in response, a low growl emanating from his chest. Stiles moans, body arching to get even closer to Derek, hands coming up and clenching Derek’s blue button-down shirt at the sides. Stiles tilts his head to the side, giving Derek more room, all the while sliding his hands under the shirt. His own shirt is already on the ground, Derek sliding his hands up and down Stiles’s chest, thumb teasing his nipples.
“Ah – shit,” Stiles stammers, head thrown back. He yanks Derek’s shirt off, barely managing not to rip the buttons off, and throws the shirt off to the side, Derek’s skin hot against his cool human skin. Stiles runs his fingers lightly up Derek’s sides, making his skin erupt with tiny bumps, before they find their place on either side of Derek’s face, curling into his soft, inky black hair.
Derek rolls his hips forward achingly slow, just the way Stiles likes it, and he can feel Stiles’s already half-hard cock slowly hardening against his hip. He moves from sucking the soft spot on his neck, slotting their mouths together in a dirty wet kiss that’s characteristic of the two of them.
Kissing Stiles never gets old. When they’d first started dating, their kisses were all sparks and electricity that curled Derek’s toes, the kind of a kiss that left Derek reeling with lust and want, the kind that Derek never wanted to end. Slowly though, those same kisses became something more than electricity – they became slow and beautiful and intimate and the lust gave way to love. With time, their kisses became something they fell back on when either of them had trouble talking about their feelings – Derek more often than Stiles.
Derek can taste the ravioli with a hint of the Merlot on Stiles’s lips and he devours it all, catching Stiles’s tongue with his own, leaning into it with everything he’s got. Stiles cradles his head, pulling Derek into him as if they aren’t already flush together as he gives as much as he can of himself into the kiss.
“We need to – bed – we – bed right now,” Stiles pants into Derek’s mouth, keening up when he feels Derek’s hands wander down to cup his ass and give it a good squeeze.
“How very eloquent,” Derek smirks but he hooks his hands under Stiles’s knees and lifts him up, Stiles’s legs immediately wrapping themselves around his waist, in one swift moment. He carries Stiles to their bedroom, throwing him on bed, watches with greed as Stiles bounces on it, pale skin almost glowing in the moonlight peeking through their curtains. Stiles is a vision to behold, smooth milky skin spattered with dark constellations all over his body.
Stiles leans forward so he’s sitting on the edge of their bed and begins to unbuckle Derek’s belt, slides the zipper down with a tantalizingly slow speed that has Derek almost whining, without so much as taking his eyes off Derek. Derek shimmies out of his jeans in record time, groaning with pleasure as Stiles mouths at his hard dick through the fabric of his boxers.
“Fu—ck,” Derek moans, hands immediately coming to cradle Stiles’s head. Stiles laps at his dick, cupping his balls, swirling his tongue around in an agonizingly slow motion. Never let it be said that Stiles doesn’t know what to do to take Derek apart, piece-by-piece. Stiles moves back, smirking, like he knows exactly what he’s doing and places a soft kiss right over the hem of Derek’s boxers as he slides them down his body, mouthing at Derek’s happy trail.
The second Derek steps out of his boxers, Stiles takes his entire cock in one swift motion, swallowing down the length of him easily. Derek grips Stiles’s hair even tighter, struggling to stay upright, because Stiles is a master of using his mouth, greedily lapping at Derek’s cock like he’s been starved of it for days. He licks the underside of Derek’s dick once, working himself up and down, alternating between a gentle swirl of the tongue at the head and swallowing him whole once again. Derek’s hips jerk in response, his hips beginning to rock back and forth of their own accordance, because if there’s anything both of them enjoy more than rimming and fucking, it’s Derek fucking Stiles’s face.
Stiles’s hands come up his thighs, resting low on his hips, fingers caressing over Derek’s hipbones. His concentration on sucking Derek’s brain through his dick never breaks though. Stiles pulls back with a wet pop, looking at Derek with hooded eyes, Derek’s pre-come dribbling down the side of his mouth.
“That all you got?” he asks, eyes glinting with challenge.
Derek narrows his eyes in response, squares off his shoulders, like this isn’t a routine for them both by now. He growls but Stiles is never scared of those anymore – if anything, it just turns him on even more. With a wink, Stiles pulls Derek back to him, wrapping his pretty pink lips around his dick. This time, Derek doesn’t hold back. The second Stiles’s mouth is on him, he grips Stiles’s head just tight enough to hold him still without hurting him and fucks his mouth with hard, aborted thrusts, hitting the back of Stiles’s throat every time but he knows Stiles can take it.
Stiles moans, happily taking Derek into his mouth without complaint, hands gripping his hips even tighter.
“Fuck, Stiles—“ Derek chokes, hips thrusting all the while. He can feel a slow kind of warmth pooling into him so he slows down even though he knows Stiles likes to swallow. He’s not ready to come just yet and Stiles, understanding, gives him one last thorough lick before pulling back.
Stiles falls back on his back, lifting his hips just enough to get rid of his own pants and boxers in one go, his cock springing freely, thick and red. Derek falls on top of him, settling down as he gives Stiles a proper kiss, one hand holding him up while the other roams between them, stopping only to cup both their hard-ons together. Stiles mewls into the kiss, arching his body, wrapping his legs around Derek. The movement rolls his hips into Derek’s, their hard cocks sliding together in ecstasy.
Derek’s mouth wanders, pressing soft little kisses as it makes its way from Stiles’s perfect lips down across his jaw to his neck and then to his collarbone, stopping there to mark him. If he had his way, Derek would paint Stiles’s body with his marks, making sure no part of him remained blank, his body becoming Derek’s canvas to pretty up with soft blues and purples as he has his way with Stiles.
“You’re killing me here,” Stiles groans into his ear, yanking at his hair. “Gonna let me fuck your pretty little ass or what?”
Derek rolls his hips into Stiles in response, making Stiles breathe, “Fuck yes.” He leans away, losing the warmth of Stiles’s body under his, to reach over to their night table and pulling out a nearly-empty bottle of lube before settling back over Stiles, this time on his knees.
Stiles fumbles with the bottle with twitchy fingers, barely managing to wrangle it open, and slathers his hands generously with lube before slicking himself up to get ready for Derek. He bites his lips, eyes glazing over with the kind of lust that makes Derek want to keen over, dick twitching as he stares at Derek reach behind to open himself. This is another thing with them; as much as Stiles enjoys rimming and slowly teasing Derek’s hole with one, two, three, four fingers, he loves watching Derek do it himself even more. He loves the way Derek shudders, body shaking with small tremors as he preps himself for Stiles.
Stiles reaches out, grabbing at Derek’s cock, stroking at it lazily. “Ready?” he purrs, just as Derek leans down to give him one last hard kiss before settling over him, knees on either side of Stiles’s hips, as he slowly sinks down on Stiles’s dick.
“Fuck, Derek,” Stiles grits. Derek’s eyes close, fluttering down, as Stiles slowly pushes into him, his hole tightly clenching around the feel of Stiles. He throws his head back, pushed into a sensory overload as Stiles pushes even deeper with an agonizingly slow pace.
Derek gasps, pleasure rolling over his body in waves as their movements pause for a brief second, just enough for them to regain themselves, before Stiles begins to push up into Derek with a renewed force just as Derek begins to ride him, matching each thrust with a roll of his hips.
“Shi—Stiles,” he bites his tongue, little beads of sweat beginning to form at his temples, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling their room. Stiles’s hands fall away from his cock and he eagerly replaces Stiles’s hands with his own, stroking himself feverishly.
“Shit, Der, you feel so fucking good,” Stiles breathes. “You’re so good for me, holy shit. Can’t—can’t believe I get to have you.”
Derek bites back another moan as their bodies harmonize together to seemingly take Derek apart but he can’t hold back the groan he releases when Stiles hits his prostate once, twice, three times in quick succession. He falls forward, lets Stiles slam into him, as he intertwines their fingers, his lips ghosting over Stiles’s, almost touching but not just quite.
“I love you so much, Der, shit, I’m going to marry the fuck out of you, just you wait,” Stiles gasps and Derek stills, tensing. Stiles notices immediately and his eyes blow wide open, like he’s just catching up to what he said. He barely gets a word out before Derek’s pulls back away from him.
“What did you just say?” Derek asks, eyes flying open and then narrowing at Stiles, lips pursing together. “Did you just—I can’t fucking believe you! What the hell is wrong with you?!”
“What the fuck?” Stiles grapples, eyes blinking at him owlishly. “Are you – do you not – I know it’s not exactly the way I imagined doing this—“
“Neither did I, Stiles! Fuck, you can’t just blurt something like that out! What the hell?”
“Okay, wait, do you not see us getting married or something? Because we’ve been together for four, almost five, years and I thought this was going somewhere,” Stiles says, hurt. His heart thunders in his chest, Derek is very clearly aware, and obviously, Stiles manages to misunderstand him again.
“This – no! Stiles, of course this is – we are heading in that direction, Stiles. You know this. Just – you weren’t supposed to propose!”
“Why the fuck not? What does it matter? Look, I know proposing during sex is like the least romantic way and I don’t even have a ring but I swear I’ll do it right tomorrow!”
“No!” Derek wants to tear his hair out.
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because I was going to propose!” he blurts out. Stiles’s eyes widen with surprise, mouth slackening. Derek feels victorious at managing to shut him up without having to kiss him, this is a serious accomplishment on his part. He’s damn proud. And also digressing.
“I was supposed to propose,” he repeats softly, looking down. “I’ve been trying to propose for the past two weeks and it kept getting interrupted and you’re – you’re just not allowed to propose, okay? You can’t propose to me, I have to propose to you.”
Stiles pulls him down gently, kissing him slowly, softly. He rolls them so Derek’s on his back with Stiles hovering over him. “Why can’t I propose to you? What’s wrong?”
“It’s just – you’ve done everything already. All the important firsts like asking me out and saying I love you and asking to move in together – you did all of them and I just wanted to have a first for myself too. I wanted to propose to you because I wanted to tell you how much you mean to me, how lost I would be without you, how much I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I wanted to say all of this to you because you deserve to know how you make me feel, you deserve to hear this from me. You’ve always made me feel special, Stiles, and I want to make you feel special too.”
By the time he finishes saying his part, Stiles has tears in his eyes and he leans down again, slotting their mouths together.
“I love you so much,” Stiles murmurs into his mouth. “I’m sorry for ruining it. Please forgive me?”
“Always,” Derek breathes. Stiles kisses him one last time, moving his hips forward as he does so, and it’s with this movement that Derek realizes Stiles is still firmly inside him. Stiles pulls back and pushes into him achingly slow, a stark contrast of the rhythm they set only minutes before. Derek bites his lips at how good Stiles feels inside him, panting heavily.
“Don’t hold back, Der. I want to hear all the pretty little sounds you make,” Stiles whispers into his ear and this is enough to almost push Derek over the edge. He can feel Stiles nearing his orgasm as well, his eyes fluttering close as he mouths lazily at Derek’s shoulder.
“Still want to join me in holy matrimony?” Derek can’t resist asking, body arching up at the torturous pace, clearly wanting more.
Stiles gives him a wicked smile, pausing briefly. “Babe, there’s nothing holy about what I have in mind right now.”
With that, he presses a kiss to Derek’s nose before beginning to thrust into Derek faster, hitting his prostate with almost every move. It only takes one, two, three thrusts before both of them come at the same time, Derek’s come shooting all over his chest while Stiles’s come filling him up inside, just like he likes it. Stiles keens into Derek’s neck, both of them panting heavily, trying to regain their energy.
They lie there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, all loose-limbed, legs tangled together, breathing as one, the scent of Stiles, home, pack, love, family intertwining together, making Derek curl into Stiles with happiness. He feels something settle in his chest the longer Stiles stays on top of him, the weight of his body anchoring Derek down, grounding him.
“I love you,” Derek murmurs into his hair.
“Love you too,” Stiles whispers, kissing his jaw.
The next morning, Derek proposes to him properly, kneeling down on one knee, holding out the ring box he’d been carrying around with him for weeks.
Predictably, Stiles says yes and cries.
Unpredictably, so does Derek.