Work Text:
While Stiles would admit that his life can be quite dangerous at times; turning into a roller coaster of one bad thing after another since Scott was bitten and Stiles got dragged into the world of werewolves too. Dragged is a bit of a strong word, he bodily threw himself into it, determined not to be left behind, determined to prove himself just as good at protecting people even without supernatural powers. However, there reaches a point where all the excitement and adrenaline, and life-threatening danger become a bit too much, and a little bit of downtime is needed.
Stiles is quite enjoying his downtime in the wake of the Alpha Pack finally leaving town. He had hit his lowest of lows at one point, and now he’s settling back into himself, sure and confident, and pretty glad that for the last couple of weeks at least there has been no mortal peril involved.
It’s the beginning of summer vacation, all Stiles is looking forward to is the annual camping trip he and his dad go on, playing some computer games that he hasn’t got around to yet, and maybe catching up on television shows before he has to start his studying for senior year.
He’s actually enjoying the time alone for once, his dad is on night shift, Scott is… off doing Scott shaped things. In fact, Stiles is just readying himself for an Avengers marathon and a giant bowl of popcorn when there’s a knock at the door. He scowls, grabbing his bowl of popcorn as he leaves the kitchen, hitting the lights as he goes.
He’s half expecting Scott, really, so when he opens the front door to see Derek Hale on his doorstep, he almost drops his popcorn. Almost. Instead he can feel his eyebrows climbing up his forehead. He doesn’t know if he should be worried or surprised. He might be passing for both.
‘Derek?’ Stiles asks, unsure. He glances past Derek anyway, expecting to find something alarming in his wake—Derek is a danger magnet if ever anyone was, he thinks it’s an entirely justified concern. It’s just Derek though. Derek and his ridiculous spiked hair, and his ridiculous leather jacket, and his ridiculous abs. Which Stiles is trying very hard not to address but he’s wearing a fitted t-shirt, it’s kind of difficult not to. On the plus side, there doesn’t appear to be any blood, in fact Derek seems largely unscathed if not for the blank look of shock on his face.
‘Are you okay?’ Stiles tries again, and this time Derek blinks, eyes flicking from Stiles’ face to his popcorn, he doesn’t look back up.
‘I think your dad thinks we’re dating,’ Derek says lowly. And Stiles’ ears must be playing tricks on him, there is no other way he could possibly have heard what he just thinks he heard. Maybe he hit his head on something and forgot about it.
‘Sorry what?’ Stiles says. Derek sighs and looks up this time, he still looks a bit lost, and a bit shell shocked.
‘Your dad seems to be under the impression that you and I are dating,’ Derek says. He says it slowly and deliberately, like Stiles is being slow, but Stiles knows enough of Derek’s dry humour to know he’s being a dick.
‘Okay…’ Stiles says. ‘How about you explain? If you’re nice enough I might even let you have some of my popcorn.’
Derek makes another sighing sound, and makes a grab for the bowl. Stiles often wishes his reflexes were faster than a werewolf’s, but they aren’t, all he really does is send a pile of popcorn to the floor when Derek’s hand hits the edge as he tries to pull it away. Derek smirks, hand full of delicious salty popcorn.
‘I hate you.’
‘Your dad doesn’t think so.’
‘Alright, alright,’ Stiles grumbles. ‘Come in, explain, but you’re not staying all night. Iron Man is in the DVD player, waiting for me.’
Stiles leads the way into the lounge, flopping down on the couch. He gestures towards the armchair when Derek hovers in the doorway, but Derek plants himself at the other end of the couch instead. Stiles throws a popcorn kernel at him.
‘Start at the beginning,’ Stiles says, stuffing a handful of popcorn in his mouth.
‘I was at the store, and your dad was there—’
‘He better not have been buying donuts,’ Stiles interrupts, Derek rolls his eyes at him.
‘He wasn’t buying donuts,’ Derek says. ‘Will you shut up and listen?’
‘If you get on with it.’
‘I ran into your dad at the store—’
‘You said this part already.’
‘Stiles.’
‘Okay, sorry,’ Stiles says, making a zipping motion across his lips. Derek shakes his head.
‘Anyway, he said that he had noticed that we’ve been hanging out a lot,’ Derek goes on, and Stiles’ brain is already putting together the pieces; thinking of all the times he and Derek have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, all the times they’ve been the last two of the haphazard pack left teamed together. He can kind of see how his dad would jump to conclusions. Once is an incident, twice is a coincidence, three’s a pattern… ‘And then he started talking about how he knows the age gap is a bit big, and he has concerns about that, and then he said I better be treating you right.’
‘Holy god,’ Stiles mutters, hiding his face behind a hand. He peeks at Derek through his fingers.
‘Then he told me I was coming on your annual camping trip, ‘ Derek says, mystified look on his face again. ‘He said he wouldn’t take no for an answer.’
‘Oh come on, that’s a Stilinski tradition!’ Stiles whines, dropping his hand. Derek meets his gaze, raising an eyebrow.
‘He said that too,’ Derek says. ‘Said that anyone that’s important to his son is important to him, and we need to bond…’ Derek says the last word like it’s dirty and it offends his sensibilities. It probably does, Stiles thinks.
‘Crap,’ Stiles breathes, leaning over and putting the bowl down on the coffee table. He sits up straight again a second late. ‘Wait, wait…’
‘Oh dear god, what?’
‘My dad thinks we’re dating,’ Stiles says, a grin spreading over his face. ‘That means he doesn’t suspect anything about werewolves, so he’s still safe.’
‘I’m not seeing the benefit of this?’
‘If my dad is none the wiser, that means nothing can come after him,’ Stiles says.
‘And?’
‘Okay, so what if we just let him think we’re dating,’ Stiles says. ‘It won’t hurt anyone.’
‘And what do I get out of this?’
‘Apparently a free holiday and the pleasure of my company.’
‘I’m still not seeing the plus in all of this,’ Derek says.
‘My dad is safe,’ Stiles says. ‘He’s made it this far without finding out about werewolves, a little longer in blissful ignorance won’t hurt him.’
‘This can’t possibly end well.’
‘Please?’ Stiles asks. ‘Come on, we’re finally out of danger, even if just for a little while, we just need to pretend for the duration of the trip, and then we can have a public break up later if you want.’
‘Or you could just tell him we’re not dating and I don’t have to come along at all.’
‘And how else am I going to explain hanging out with a twenty five year old dude?’
‘I’m twenty four.’
‘The reasoning still stands.’
‘Fine,’ Derek sighs. ‘But after this you tell him we broke up.’
‘Okay,’ Stiles says, grinning and grabbing the popcorn back up again. ‘Do you want to watch Iron Man?’
‘Sure,’ Derek says, settling back against the couch.
‘Have you seen it before?’ Stiles asks, eyebrows raising. He hits play on the remote. Derek looks very much like he wants to roll his eyes again.
‘Saw it with Laura at the cinema,’ Derek says. ‘She’d never pass up an opportunity to see Robert Downey Jr on the big screen.’
‘Amen to that,’ Stiles says, moving the popcorn so that it is within Derek’s reach.
* * *
When Stiles had gotten overexcited by the idea of hoodwinking his dad by fake dating Derek Hale, he hadn’t quite anticipated how awkward the car ride was going to be. They are on their way to Redwood National Park, a good three hour drive from Beacon Hills—Stiles had argued from a young age that camping in the woods at home was cheating, he still stands by that—and the car ride has, at one hour in, been painfully quiet.
Derek is sitting grumpily in the back seat of the Jeep, fidgeting in attempt to get comfortable. Stiles’ dad keeps flicking looks between them, and Stiles is trying very hard to keep all his attention on the road, and hoping that he isn’t appearing too nervous.
‘Alright, out with it,’ Stiles says after another half hour of his dad eyeballing him. ‘You clearly want to ask something.’
‘I hope you two are being safe,’ his dad says. Which isn’t at all what Stiles had been expecting, and he ends up gaping while Derek sits up rigidly in the back seat all of a sudden.
‘We haven’t done anything,’ Derek says quickly, and Stiles turns his gape to Derek, frowning at him as he does. His dad slaps him lightly upside the head, and points towards the road. Stiles closes his mouth and turns his attention back to the road. Great, Stiles isn’t even pretend getting any in a pretend relationship. His love life really is pathetic.
‘We haven’t been going out that long,’ Stiles says, and he can feel his dad eyeballing him like he doesn’t believe him. ‘Dad.’
‘Alright, alright,’ his dad says, holding his hands up in surrender. ‘So… how did this start?’
Oh dear god, Stiles thinks, they had not thought this through. He finds himself wracking his brain, trying to think of some non-werewolf, non-law breaking situation that he and Derek have been in. They are worryingly few and far between.
‘Oh, you know how it is,’ Derek says airily, and Stiles’ stomach plummets in anticipation. ‘Kid was persistent.’
His dad snorts, and Stiles thinks he should be offended. ‘Yeah, he is that.’
Derek is smirking at him when he looks in the rear view mirror. He’s really a horrible person.
* * *
The awe Stiles feels when he approaches Redwood National Park is one that never leaves him. Sure, he has lived near forestry all his life, he’s visited national parks since he was five years old, but there’s something special about Redwood. It’s grand in a world tilting way, reminding Stiles of just how small and insignificant his problems are in the grand scheme of things. He’s seventeen years old, some of these trees are in their hundreds, and it’s enough to make anyone feel small.
His dad had already reserved a spot for them to camp at the Elk Prairie Campground, which they have camped at several times, but it’s Stiles’ first time driving up to it. It’s relatively quiet, for mid-July, but Stiles is perfectly aware it will get busier as the weekend approaches, for now he’s merely glad he’s not having to fight any SUVs for a decent spot.
He parks, preening a little when he looks at his dad, and then turns to look at Derek. Derek is sprawled across the little bench seat in the back, his limbs all at awkward angles, his head propped up against the window, and he’s sound asleep. It’s kind of sad, Stiles thinks, that this probably isn’t even the most uncomfortable place Derek has slept lately.
He and his dad share a look, and then his dad starts to get out of the car.
‘I’ll start unpacking the tent,’ he says, leaving them alone.
‘Hey,’ Stiles says, tapping Derek on the knee. Derek makes a face, and shifts his shoulder like he’s trying to burrow further into the side of the car. Stiles grasps Derek’s knee harder, shaking lightly. ‘Hey, come on, we’re here.’
Derek sits up abruptly before his eyes are even open, blinking blearily, and then lets out a yawn. His hair is all sleep mussed. It isn’t adorable, it isn’t. He jerks around when Stiles’ dad opens the trunk.
‘You want to help set up the tent?’ Stiles’ dad asks.
‘Sure,’ Derek says, groaning as he stretches his legs.
Derek climbs over the passenger seat, clicking open the passenger door and jumping out of the car. There’s really no way to get out of the car without having his butt briefly in Stiles’ personal space. It’s really a nice butt, which is not a good line of thought for Stiles to be having at all. Stiles clears his throat and gets out of the car to busy himself with setting up for lunch.
* * *
Stiles isn’t sure when all the awkwardness is going to go away, but he watches as his dad and Derek build the tent in near silence—‘You can call me John, you know,’ his dad says after Derek calls him sheriff for the fourth time—and then lunch is equally as quiet. He can tell by his dad’s face that he has a million questions that he’s trying hard not to ask, and Derek is sitting too close, closer than he usually sits but probably not suspiciously so.
As soon as they are done, his dad says he’s going to check out the activities to see what they can all get up to, and leaves Stiles and Derek alone. It’s horribly underhand, but Stiles is a bit thankful, because they seriously need to have a powwow.
‘Alright, I have no idea what I’m doing,’ Stiles says, picking at the latter half of his sandwich. Derek’s eyebrows pull down in question, but he keeps chewing his own mouthful of sandwich. ‘With this dating thing, I’ve never really done it before.’
‘Neither have I,’ Derek says, swallowing. Stiles ogles him for a moment, which makes Derek squirm a bit in his seat. ‘What? Kate and I didn’t really… date. It was—‘
‘Oh god,’ Stiles says, burying his face in his hands. ‘This was the worst idea ever.’
‘I did try to warn you,’ Derek says, taking another bite of his sandwich.
‘Yeah, but I thought at least one of us would know what we are doing!’
‘Just…’ Derek starts, ‘act naturally?’
‘With you?’ Stiles asks.
‘Okay, act a little bit like I’m not the worst possible person you could be around.’
‘I don’t think that,’ Stiles says.
‘Oh…’
‘Your uncle, on the other hand,’ he says. ‘Is a douche bag.’
* * *
The thing is, and Stiles knows from experience, when Derek and Stiles stop butting heads for all of five minutes, they actually work quite well together. So when he stops worrying all the time and just behaves like himself—which includes not paying attention to Derek’s posturing for the most part—it’s actually surprisingly good to hang out with Derek.
They go fishing in the afternoon; Stiles’ dad determined to catch something for their dinner. Derek isn’t terrible at it, but he’s not accustomed to it, so Stiles spends ten minutes showing him what to do, and another twenty keeping an eye on him, helping him out when he spots things about to go awry.
It becomes easier as the day goes on, to ignore the fact that his dad keeps surreptitiously watching them, and looking hurriedly away every time Stiles looks over.
It’s easy, too, to fall into a routine with his dad again while fishing. He’s missed his dad a lot, gotten tired of the lying and the hiding, and while he’d like to say there’s none of that here, it becomes easy to forget that he’s meant to be pretending where Derek is concerned because at the moment not much is different at all.
They do eventually catch a salmon for dinner, which Stiles nominates Derek for the gutting and cleaning of because he feels a tiny bit vindictive. His dad seems to view it as a right of passage though, and hands over his kit. Derek glowers a bit in Stiles’ direction, but gets to work as Stiles and his dad get a fire going.
Derek scales and debones the fish; cutting it into fillets that even John is impressed by, and sets them on the grill they’ve got over the fire. They settle down in the fold up chairs they had brought with them, and tuck into a dinner of salmon and reheated beans.
‘You’ve got a talent,’ John says half way through dinner.
‘Thanks,’ Derek says, sharing a look with Stiles. Stiles has his mouth full, but he holds a thumb up and nods.
‘You ever been camping before, son?’ his dad asks. Derek looks away from Stiles, back to his dad.
‘Once or twice,’ Derek says. ‘With my brother and sisters, always in the trees at the back of the house though, never like this.’
‘Stiles’ mom used to hate camping,’ John says, and Stiles looks up, surprised that he’s brought her up. ‘First time she came along, she lasted one night and then decided she was going to the spa in town, and we could just have a boys weekend.’
‘I never knew that,’ Stiles says softly. His dad smiles at him, and he can feel Derek watching him in his peripheral vision.
‘Yeah,’ he says quietly. ‘After that she used to stay at a hotel, and come out to the campsite during the day, just hated sleeping outside is all.’
They lapse into silence after that, Derek nudges his foot against Stiles’ and Stiles looks up, reading the silent are you okay? on Derek’s face. He nods, leaving their feet pressed against one another. Derek doesn’t move his foot either, so he assumes it’s all a part and parcel of the pretend dating thing.
‘I thought we’d go hiking tomorrow if you are both up for it?’ his dad says, chasing the last of his beans around his plate. Stiles looks over at Derek.
‘Sure,’ Derek says.
‘Did you bring hiking boots?’ Stiles asks. Derek looks down at his feet, at the black boots that he’s wearing. And Stiles knows that Derek probably doesn’t think about the possibility of spraining his ankle, but in the spirit of pretending werewolves are not a thing, hiking boots are probably something they should have thought of.
‘No…’ Derek says. ‘These will be fine, really.’
Stiles’ dad makes a face like he doesn’t like that idea.
‘He’ll be fine,’ Stiles says, bumping his foot against Derek’s and grinning. ‘He has reflexes like a cat.’
Derek’s scowl is totally worth it.
* * *
The sleeping arrangements are somewhat awkward, Stiles and his dad have a four-man tent that they’ve had for years and it does them fine. But with Derek in there, as well as their bags, it all becomes a bit like sardines in a can. Stiles is relegated to the middle sleeping bag, which he accepts if only because Derek and his dad sleeping next to one another sounds even more awkward than Stiles having to do so.
Stiles finds himself hyper aware of his own body the first night. His dad is out like a light pretty much as soon as he has zipped up his sleeping bag, his face turned away from Stiles and Derek. Derek is lying on his back on the other side of Stiles, eyes closed but Stiles can tell he isn’t sleeping yet.
Stiles fidgets with the zipper of his sleeping bag, trying to get his limbs to behave in a way that won’t have him waking up sprawled all over Derek or his dad. He tosses and turns, unable to get comfy sandwiched between two people as he is.
‘Stop fidgeting,’ Derek hisses, looking at Stiles out of the corner of his eye. Stiles settles, lying on his back.
‘Sorry,’ Stiles says. His heart feels like it’s beating much to loudly in his chest, frantic with panic, and he has absolutely no illusions that Derek can’t hear it.
‘Relax,’ Derek says. ‘I don’t bite.’
‘Oh you’re hilarious,’ Stiles huffs, turning his back towards Derek. There’s a hum of amusement behind him, but he feels a bit calmer after that.
* * *
Stiles is woken at the ass crack of dawn, and that’s not something that should happen during summer vacation. He feels like he has barely closed his eyes before his dad is nudging him awake. He does, however, find himself thankful that he hasn’t woken up sprawled all over either Derek or his dad, his limbs containing themselves for once in the confines of his sleeping bag. He’s roasting though, sticky with sweat between the sleeping bag and being stuck between a werewolf and his dad all night. He’s glad for a shower.
It isn’t much of a surprise to Stiles at all that Derek is rather a morning person. Derek gets up and gets ready with an alertness that Stiles himself doesn’t have at this time in the morning on a non-school day. He can’t make up his mind if that’s just how Derek is, or if that’s how he’s trained himself to be; like a soldier. It wouldn’t be that much of a stretch, Stiles thinks.
They fill a rucksack with food and water, and a change of clothing just in case, put the rest of their stuff away in a locker, and then head out for the day. Stiles has been on hikes with his dad before, but the good thing about picking a different park and a different campsite each year is that the hiking trails are always new and unfamiliar. They’ve been to Redwood before, but each trail brings new things.
They wander for the better part of an hour, Stiles’ dad leading the way, in a peaceful sort of quiet. It’s refreshing and awe-inspiring, the landscape around them, even Derek seems quieted by the depth of the forest surrounding them. Stiles and Derek are walking side by side, John a few yards ahead; probably purposely, Stiles feels.
‘How do you think your ragtag bunch is doing back home?’ Stiles asks, huffing a breath as they reach an incline, Derek’s hand is at his back, steadying him when he slip-slides his way up a rocky slope.
‘Scott’s probably getting them all on his side,’ Derek says.
‘His heart’s in the best place, y’know,’ Stiles says, looking over his shoulder as Derek reaches the top of the slope. ‘He’s headstrong, you’d know a thing or two about that.’
‘I’m not the bad guy,’ Derek says.
‘I know that,’ Stiles says. ‘Scott just doesn’t respond well to tough love.’
Derek doesn’t say anything to that, but he frowns into the distance, so Stiles takes that as his listening and considering face. They follow along behind Stiles’ dad in silence for another five minutes before Derek stops them in their tracks, a hand on Stiles’ wrist.
‘What?’ Stiles asks, glancing at Derek’s hand on him before he looks up at his face.
‘I thought I heard something,’ Derek says.
‘Werewolf heard something, or human heard something?’
‘Probably the former,’ Derek says, squinting in concentration. Stiles pulls his wrist free from Derek and takes a few feet forward, keeping an eye on his dad.
‘Stiles!’
Stiles looks up when he hears his dad hiss his name, instantly alert, it takes all his willpower not to go racing towards him, creating a cacophony of noise as he goes. He catches up to him though, to find his dad pointing towards a clearing a good thirty feet in front of them.
At the other side of the clearing there is a big brown bear. Stiles has never seen one in the wild, and certainly not this close. He hadn’t quite realised they were that ginormous, but this creature looks like it could squash them with a paw if it wanted. It sniffs the air, no doubt able to smell the food in their pack, and takes a step forward.
Stiles isn’t actually sure what they should be doing. He knows he’s had the talks about bear safety in campgrounds, has done from a young age, but when it comes down to it, both he and his dad are standing stock still, neither of them moving a muscle.
‘Shh,’ his dad says, and Stiles looks at him incredulously.
The bear takes another few surprisingly quick steps forward, half way across the clearing. Stiles jumps out of his skin when he hears a roar further in the woods, relaxing slightly when he realises he knows that roar. His hand is on his dad’s shoulder, his dad’s face pale.
The bear stops in it’s tracks though, sniffing the air again, ears twitching. There’s another roar, louder this time, and the bear decides to investigate, lumbering off in the opposite direction.
‘That was awesome!’ Stiles breathes. It’s his dad’s turn to look incredulous.
It’s only a minute before Derek appears behind Stiles again, as if he’d never been gone at all—Stiles’ dad hadn’t even noticed.
‘Are you okay?’ Derek asks, looking from the sheriff to Stiles and back.
‘Yeah,’ the sheriff says. ‘Lets get out of here.’
Stiles looks at Derek for a long moment, then nods in thanks. Derek smiles back, looking a bit pleased with himself. He waits until his dad is out of earshot before he speaks to Derek again.
‘How did you distract the bear after all your roaring?’ he asks.
‘Left a packet of twinkies lying out over at the other end of the clearing,’ Derek says, smirking when Stiles looks at him open-mouthed. ‘Should keep him entertained for a little while.’
* * *
On the second night, Stiles is so exhausted from hiking that he falls soundly asleep and doesn’t even think to worry about wandering limbs and personal space violation.
It’s not until two nights later that Stiles regrets letting his guard down when it comes to sleeping next to Derek. He wakes up to find that he has managed to escape his sleeping bag during the night, too hot inside it, and is instead spread out across Derek.
Derek is lying on his back, face turned towards Stiles. Stiles has his head resting on Derek’s shoulder, and an arm draped across his waist. He also has one of his legs pressed in between Derek’s, their whole bodies aligned from head to foot.
Stiles drowses, warm and comfortable, and doesn’t want to move. He squirms closer without thinking. It’s not until he hears a grunt of sound than he cracks open an eye and looks down at the sleeping form in front of him.
There’s a throat clearing sound again, and Stiles looks over his shoulder to find his dad watching him.
‘Nothing going on between the two of you, huh?’ he asks. Stiles splutters, putting as much space between himself and Derek as the tent will allow, which of course is when Derek wakes up, looking confused and sleep dishevelled. Stiles doesn’t think he’s been more turned on in his life.
And he certainly can’t look his dad or Derek in the eye for the rest of the day.
* * *
They decide to head up to the Jedidiah Smith Campground on the second last day. Stiles and his dad had camped up there once when Stiles was thirteen, and it’s rather nice to go back to the other campground, where they can swim and go on other hikes.
They follow a hiking trail for an hour, rounding back to the campground, Stiles’ legs are beginning to ache by the end of it; hiking using muscles that sitting on the bench during lacrosse never gets to. He suggests swimming at the Smith River when they reach it.
He really hadn’t thought it through.
Derek in swim shorts is possibly the most unfair thing Stiles has seen in his life—and he has seen Lydia in a bathing suit before. Stiles, while quite happy with his body thank you very much, feels overly pale and ridiculously skinny next to Derek who is living up to the buff werewolf stereotype quite nicely.
‘Unfair,’ Stiles says, when they’ve stripped down to swim shorts. Derek is balling up his shirt and tossing it on top of the pile Stiles has created, but he turns to look at Stiles questioningly. Stiles is too busy staring at Derek’s abs though. Is it wrong that he’d like to lick them?
‘What?’ Derek asks, bunching his hands into fists like he’s trying really hard not to cross his arms over his chest. Stiles is knocked from his staring by his dad slapping him upside the head.
‘Enough,’ his dad says, and Stiles gapes at him. He rubs at the back of his head, scowling at Derek when he notices him grinning a bit.
‘You look like an underwear model,’ Stiles mutters as they traipse towards the river. Derek makes a face, one that says he thinks Stiles is being ridiculous. And the thing is, Stiles knows that Derek knows what he looks like, knows that he’s an attractive man, and certainly knows how to use it to charm the pants off people when he needs to.
‘You don’t look to bad yourself,’ Derek says, which, what?
‘What?’ Stiles asks. Derek frowns in confusion.
‘You’re not unattractive,’ Derek says.
‘Right,’ Stiles says, because he doesn’t think he’s unattractive, despite the fact that no one in Beacon Hills has really expressed interest—or at least no one he has liked that way in return. ‘You’re still way out of my league.’
‘Your dad doesn’t think so,’ Derek says with a shrug.
‘I’ll take believable, I guess,’ Stiles sighs, making his way into the water, which holymotherfuckingcrap is cold.
‘Holy crap!’
‘It’s not that cold,’ Derek says, pushing water at Stiles, and hitting him in the face with it. Stiles scowls at him. ‘What, I thought you wanted believable?’
‘I hate you,’ Stiles says, to which Derek promptly replies by dunking Stiles under the water, and laughing when Stiles surfaces spluttering water and snorting it out of his nose.
‘You too,’ Derek says, but the smile on his face is the most affectionate expression Stiles has ever seen on him. It does funny things to Stiles’ insides.
* * *
Their last night is spent around the bonfire outside their tent, feasting on a dinner of burgers before they start making s’mores. The three of them have been chatting all night, sharing stories, talking about everything and nothing, and Stiles can’t think of the last time he was this happy and relaxed, not tiptoeing around his dad, feeling like he was hiding his life from him in a bid to protect him.
S’mores are always messy but fun. Watching Derek fit them all together is both amusing and fascinating as he tries to eat it all before it melts all over his hands.
‘I haven’t had these since I was a kid,’ Derek says, chasing a line of melted marshmallow and chocolate as it runs down his wrist.
‘You have been deprived, man,’ Stiles says, grinning as he passes one over to his dad. ‘I am going to make sure you have them all the time.’
Derek snorts, smiling as he eats the rest of his s’more.
‘Just you wait,’ Stiles says. ‘Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas…’
‘He’s going to be coming to those is he?’ Stiles’ dad asks.
Stiles looks over at him, confused, before he thinks back on what he just said. He looks back at Derek, who is watching him questioningly. He wonders how long they could keep up the lie that doesn’t even feel that much like a lie anymore. Pretend-dating Derek Hale feels a lot like learning to know him better, and discovering he really isn’t so bad when he lets all his guards down. He likes Derek, it just took him a long time to realise that. He doesn’t really want to think about Derek sitting all alone in his sad excuse for a house while everyone else celebrates with their families, it doesn’t seem fair.
‘Yeah,’ Stiles says quietly. ‘If that’s alright with both of you.’
‘We’ll see,’ his dad says.
Derek’s watching them with a look like he can’t believe what’s happening in front of him, and hell if that doesn’t make Stiles’ heart constrict. Stiles nudges his foot against Derek’s, a silent you okay? to which Derek smiles, small and intimate. He leaves their feet pressed together.
* * *
When they get back home, Derek offers to help bring all the camping gear back into the house, but the sheriff tells him not to worry about it and says he’ll do it. Stiles gets a horrible feeling that his dad is pointedly giving them space because as far as his father is concerned, they have both been very well behaved and there hasn’t been so much as hand holding in his vicinity never mind any other forms of PDA. Stiles isn’t sure he’s the PDA sort, especially not with his dad hanging about. But it’s not like he’s thinking from experience or anything.
It’s kind of awkward, when Derek walks Stiles up to the door, clearly aware that his dad is expecting something from them too. It’s horribly embarrassing.
‘So, er,’ Stiles says, glancing behind him where he can see his dad farther down the hallway, not watching, but clearly sticking around to make sure nothing untoward happens. ‘Thanks for coming?’
‘Sure, no problem,’ Derek says, he’s looking at Stiles strangely; a mixture of amusement and calculation, Stiles doesn’t like it at all.
‘I think my dad, is er,’ Stiles starts, whispering so his dad won’t hear him. ‘Expecting—’
Stiles can’t remember what he had been about to say, because Derek is suddenly leaning in, pressing their mouths together. And, oh, this is nice; this isn’t at all what he had been expecting. Derek moves in closer, backing Stiles up against the wall of the house as he coaxes Stiles’ mouth open with his tongue and licks his way in. Stiles kisses back, automatic, trying his best to mirror what Derek is doing, relishing in the feel of their tongues sliding together. Okay, he could probably get used to this; breathing Derek in, the scrape of stubble against his jaw, the softness of Derek’s lips. Derek makes a noise in the back of his throat, teasing at Stiles’ bottom lip with his teeth when he eventually pulls away, and leans their forehead together.
‘What the hell was that?’ Stiles breathes against him. His hands are gripping the back of Derek’s neck—when the hell had that happened? Derek has one hand braced against the wall next to Stiles’ head, the other at Stiles’ waist.
‘You wanted to make it believable, right?’ Derek says quietly, stepping back. Stiles’ legs feel a bit wobbly, he puts his hands against the wall to support himself. He kind of wishes he was still holding onto Derek.
‘Hng’ is what Stiles manages. Derek smirks at him, and then pops his head around the door.
‘Later, Sheriff,’ he says cheerily before heading back down the driveway.
‘Bye,’ John calls. Stiles blows out a lungful of air, flipping Derek off when Derek grins at him again and waves. Derek’s laugh disappears around the corner with the rest of him. Asshole. ‘Well,’ his dad says, poking his head around the door, Stiles jumps.
‘Don’t,’ Stiles says. ‘Just don’t.’