Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1230658.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Scott_McCall, Derek_Hale, Lydia_Martin, Erica_Reyes,
      Sheriff_Stilinski, Claudia_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Stilinski_Family_Feels, Erica_Reyes_&_Stiles_Stilinski_Friendship, Oral
      Sex, Attempted_Rape/Non-Con, But_it_turned_out_okay, Protective_Derek,
      Oblivious_Stiles, Fluff, I_guess_this_is_crack, Canonical_Character_Death
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-02-24 Words: 4906
****** Buttons Aren't Even Cute ******
by mrandmrhale2
Summary
     Buttons Aren’t Even Cute
     OR
     The five times Stiles was called adorable and the one time he wasn’t
     _____
     This was supposed to be only fluff and then porn happened.
Notes
     see end for more notes
See the end of the work for more notes
Stiles was six the first time someone called him adorable.
He walked into his first day of kindergarten with one hand clutching the strap
of his Spiderman backpack and the other wrapped firmly around his mother’s.
“You’ll be just fine, sweetheart. You met Ms. Blake last week, you said you
liked her, yeah?”
Stiles nodded, but his eyes were wide and terrified as they darted around the
hallway. The walls were littered with finger paintings and macaroni art. It was
bright and cheerful and it hurt his eyes a bit.
“And your friend from down the street, Scott, he’s going to be in your class,
too.”
He perked up a little at that, and thought about the mop-haired boy that would
play Pokémon with him after T-ball practice. Stiles had tried to teach his
friend how to play baseball once, but Ms. McCall had ended up rushing outside
with special medicine because Scott’s lungs were sick or something.
His mom pulled them to a stop in front of a door with big, bright letters that
read ‘MISS BLAKE’S CLASS’.
“Here we are, honey,” when all Stiles did was bite his lip and grip her hand
tighter, his mom sighed and knelt down, “I’ll be back before you know it. And
by then, you won’t ever want to leave, okay? Trust me.”
His mom led him inside and handed him over to Ms. Blake with a tight smile.
“Stiles will be just fine, Mrs. Stilinski. He’s in good hands,” she grinned and
helped Stiles slip off his backpack and jacket.
She hugged Stiles too tight before walking out of the classroom. Ms. Blake
ushered him over to the coloring tables where Scott sat, furiously scribbling
over a tracing of a rainbow.
“Hi, Scott,” Stiles said as he slid next to his friend, the legs of the little
orange chair squelching against the linoleum.
“Hi,” he huffs, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, and reached for his own paper and crayons.
“She wouldn’t share her blocks.”
Stiles followed his friend’s brooding stare until he was looking at a girl with
curly brown hair.
“Who’s she?”
Scott shrugged and returned his attention to his rainbow.
They colored in silence for a few minutes, before Ms. Blake wandered by.
“Oh, that’s beautiful, Stiles! What have you drawn there?”
“S’wolf,” he mumbled, furiously scribbling in the tail, “All done!” he held up
his drawing for her to see, and wouldn’t put it down until she responded with
the appropriate amount of awe.
“You like wolves?” she asked, after giving Scott’s picture equal admiration.
“I dream about them, sometimes.”
“Scary dreams?”
He shook his head, “No, good dreams.”
She smiled at him, “Well, what doyou like, Stiles?”
“I like baseball!” he exclaimed, dropping his crayon in excitement.
She laughed, “Yeah?”
“Uh-huh! I like the Mets, just like my Daddy. I’m gonna be the catcher for them
when I’m all grown up?”
“Well, aren’t you adorable,” she cooed, and ruffled his spikey hair.
And Stiles figured that, yeah, he was.
 
 
 
 
The second time was about a year and a half later, on his parent’s date night.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” he grumbled, sinking deeper into the bench in
front of his mother’s vanity. He watched her in the mirror as she flitted from
the bathroom to her closet and back.
“Heather is nice, Stiles. You’ll love her,” his mom said as she tied a silk
scarf around her bald head.
His mom had shaved her head a few months back. They wouldn’t tell Stiles why.
All he knew was that she was sick, and she was trying really hard to get
better.
His dad was probably downstairs in the kitchen, pacing back and forth nervously
and muttering to himself.
Date nights had been making him sad recently.
“I’m almost eight; I don’t need a babysitter,” he huffed, running a finger
along the curve of the mirror, “I’m not a baby.”
“You’re my baby,” she said, and kissed the top of his head.
He rolled his eyes, but heat rose in his cheeks as he bit back a smile.
The doorbell rang, causing Stiles to jump, and his mom to move a little faster.
“Heather’s here, Claudia! You ready?” his dad shouted from the base of the
stairs.
“Honey, go tell your father not to shout in the house, and that I’ll be ready
in five minutes,” she said as she tried to put an earring in.
He slid off of the bench to do as she asked.
“Daddy!” he called as he hopped down the stairs, rounded the corner, and froze
at the sight in front of him.
There was an angel in his kitchen.
“Stiles, this is Heather. She’s going to stay with you while Mom and I are at
dinner.”
All he could do was nod. Heather was beautiful, with curly blonde hair and a
smile that rivaled even Allison Argent’s, the girl Scott had been following
around for a year.
“Hey there, Stiles, it’s nice to meet you,” she said, smiling at him like she
hadn’t just melted Stiles’ heart in two seconds flat.
“Hi,” he muttered, shifting further behind his father.
He chuckled, “Don’t be shy, buddy, Heather says she has a surprise for you.”
Stiles looked at her with wide eyes, too star struck to fully form sentences.
“Yeah, I hear you like Pokémon?”
He nodded.
“Well, my little brother had all of the Pokémon movies, so I grabbed them so we
could watch them tonight. Sound like fun?”
Stiles was in love.
 
His parents left with the promise to be home by ten, which sounded way too
early for Stiles, but whatever, and he and Heather ended up sitting on the
couch watching the movies.
“W-Who’s your favorite Pokémon?” he asked tentatively.
“Hmmm,” she hummed, as she filed her nails, “I’d have to say Pikachu.”
“Mine too!” he lied- because, seriously, had Heather even seen Articuno- and
jumped up and down excitedly, “We have so much in common.”
She laughed, “Oh, yeah? Like what?”
“We, uh, we both like Pikachu and, uh… um,” she laughed again, and reached over
to pat him on the cheek.
“Oh, Stiles, you sure are adorable. Cute as a button.”
And he grinned because, oh yeah, he totally was.
 
 
 
 
The third time was when Stiles realized that, maybe, being adorable wasn’t such
a good thing.
It was in eighth grade. Six years after his mom had died. Four years since his
dad had been promoted to Sheriff.  And a whopping seven years since he had
declared his love for Lydia Martin on the playground.
The very same Lydia who had just been assigned as his lab partner.
He sat on the stool next to her, his palms sweaty as he passed her a test tube.
“I need the sodium nitrate,” she said, not bothering him a second glance as she
put a pinch of some powder into the glass.
“Oh, yeah. Um, here,” he may have underestimated the enthusiasm with which he
reached for the bottle, because a second later, chemicals spilled across the
floor.
Some splashed on Lydia, and she jumped off her chair with a yelp.
“Stilinski!” the teacher shouted, “Take Ms. Martin to the chemical wash.”
Stiles nodded furiously, and led a cursing Lydia to the back of the room, where
there was a bright yellow sink.
“This is an eyewash station,” she said with a sneer, holding her injured hand
with the other arm.
“It helps with chemical burns, too.”
“Have a lot of experience with this, do you?”
He shrugged, “A fair bit.”
He might have preened when she gave him a half smile.
He turned on the sink for her, and she stuck it under the stream, hissing as
the icy water hit her skin.
They stood there in awkward silence as the water flowed, until Stiles couldn’t
take it anymore.
“So,” he began, “You must be a compound of beryllium and barium...because
you’re a total BaBe.”
She stared at him with a furrowed brow before a laugh escaped her full lips. He
grinned like a maniac at the sound of her laugh- a laugh he made happen thank
you very much- and couldn’t help but give it another go.
“I wish I was an ion so I could form an exothermic bond with you.”
“Does your body consist of Oxygen and Neon? Because you are the ONe.”
"Are you a carbon sample? Because I want to date you."
By this point she was nearly doubled over with laughter, drawing some strange
looks from the front of the room.
Stiles couldn’t keep the smile off of his face. He’d made Lydia Martin laugh.
THE Lydia Martin. This was the greatest day of his life.
Once she’d calmed down and they were both just sort of smiling and giggling,
Stiles decided that if he were ever going to make a move, the time would be
now.
“So, Lydia… I was wondering if, maybe, you’d want to go to the movies with me
some time?”
She gave him a close lipped smile, and put her free hand on his shoulder, “Ah,
Stiles. You’re adorable, you know that?” and that was the only answer she gave,
before turning off the sink, and heading back to the table with a flip of her
hair.
He didn’t know why that burned like it never had before. Why the place on his
shoulder where her hand had been suddenly felt ice cold.
Stiles decided that he didn’t want to be adorable anymore.
 
 
Stiles’ life changed sophomore year. Because Scott was bitten by- get this- a
fucking werewolf. Which apparently made him a werewolf now because, yeah, they
fucking existed.
Which was why he suddenly had a pack of friends instead of just a sensitive
asthmatic. Well, a pack of friends and a creepy wolf-man who liked to shove
Stiles up against walls and lurk in his bedroom. Which was totally not hot, no
matter how hard Edward Cullen tried to make it that way.
But this is also when Stiles was called adorable for the fourth time.
Out of everyone in the pack, other than Scott, of course, Erica was hands down
his favorite. She was completely badass, and plus Boyd and Isaac didn’t seem to
like him all that much, anyway. Their loss.
Erica laid on Stiles bed, throwing a rubber band ball up in the air as Stiles
researched something called a ‘chimera’ for Derek.
“Hey, Stiles?”
“Yeah?” he grunted, not taking his eyes off of the screen.
“Why are you single?”
He jerked in surprise, before spinning to stare at her incredulously.
She scoffed at him, “Don’t look like I’m about to claw you. It’s a valid
question.”
“Why do you think?” he asked, and tried really hard not to pout. He didn’t need
a reminder about how pale and weak he was. How completely unmanly and…
adorable.
“Erica… do you think I’m, um, adorable?” he cringed as the word came out, and
she raised an eyebrow, “Oh hey, did Derek teach you how to do that?”
She rolled her eyes, “Why do you want to know if I think you’re adorable?”
“I dunno. Research?”
“Don’t be annoying, Stilinski, and answer the question.”
“You first!” he whined.
She sighed, “Yes, I think you’re adorable. Your moles are cute, and your little
upturned nose is just precious. Now, why the fuck does it matter what I think?”
“Because I think that’s why I’m single.”
Her nose scrunched, “Wait, you’re single because you’re adorable?”
“Yeeees,” he moaned, scrubbing his eyes with his fists.
“You’re fuckin’ nuts.”
“No, no, listen,” he climbed onto his bed next to her and flopped down,
elbowing her in the gut. She hit him in retaliation, but he just continued, “No
one wants to date an ‘adorable’ guy. They want a manly man, not someone who is-
”
“As cute as a button?”
“Oh my God, they are not even cute.”
She laughed, and snuggled into his side, “I think you’re manly, Stiles. And
totally dateable.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled, and he was totally not blushing even a little bit.
“But don’t tell Boyd.”
“Of fucking course I won’t; I value my life.”
“I’m sure other people find you dateable, too.”
“Yeah, right, like who?”
She shrugged and bit her lip, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the guy who sneaks into
your room all the time and never stops texting y-”
“Oh, hold up, I got a text from Derek,” Erica groaned in frustration and shoved
her face into the pillow, “Seriously? Oh my God, this dude has me working
double overtime. I got to get up, Erica, he wants a full report by tonight.”
“There’s no pack meeting tonight,” she said as Stiles climbed off of the bed.
“No, he was going to stop by later.”
“Stiles?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re an idiot.”
 
 
The first time Stiles went to The Jungle was to catch a lizard man that ended
up being Jackson and Stiles still couldn’t believe that this was his life now.
The second time was after he’d scored a fake ID from the creepy guy that worked
in the photo lab at school and snuck out.
He hadn’t told Scott the thrill he’d gotten from being there the first time,
how it had felt right when the random guy at the bar had flirted with him. It’s
not like Scott didn’t already know that Stiles was bisexual, but he’d never
experienced Stiles dating a guy before. All of his previous interests had been
girls. So, in an attempt to keep him from a culture shock, Stiles had dragged
Danny along with him.
“Alright, so don’t accept any drinks you didn’t specifically see the bartender
make, and don’t agree to go upstairs with anybody because that’s where all the
drugs are, so- Stiles are you even listening?”
Danny waved a hand in front of his face, and he tore his eyes away from the guy
he’d been staring at for the past five minutes.
“Wha- oh yeah. Totally, dude,” he mumbled, gnawing on the straw of the drink
that was way too potent for him, but whatever if Stiles was going to get laid
he might as well be drunk.
“Oh God, you’re not going to last ten minutes,” Danny moaned.
“What are you even talking about? I’ll be fine. I totally have this flirting
thing down, man.”
He just rolled his eyes, but let it go.
They weren’t at the bar five minutes before Danny had been pulled to the dance
floor by some guy with spikey blonde hair and too-white teeth.
Stiles sighed into his drink, and searched the room again. No one was even
looking at him. It’s like he was fucking invisi-
“Hey there, baby.”
Stiles spun- probably too fast and jerky to be smooth in the slightest- to see
some drop dead gorgeous guy leaning against the bar next to him.
“Oh, uh, hey… babe?”
The guy chuckled and raked his eyes over Stiles’ chest.
He was fleetingly grateful that Danny had forced him into a way too tight shirt
and thrown black skinny jeans at him before letting him leave the house.
“You here with anybody?” he drawled, running a lazy finger up Stiles’ arm.
He gaped at the guys strong forearms, before finally stuttering out, “Uh, yeah,
my friend Danny. I don’t usually come to places like this but he does, like,
all the time, so I thought, who better to show me the ropes, right? But then he
went to dance with his ex-boyfriend or something and left me here all alone,
but then you showed up, so that’s nice and I really need to shut up feel free
to stop me any time,” he gasped, and the guy just stared at him with wide eyes.
“Right. Can I buy you another drink?”
He nodded with vigor- probably too much- and then there was another drink in
front of him.
“Drink up, baby,” the Handsome Stranger drawled, and leaned in towards Stiles
with a predatory gleam in his eyes.
Stiles grinned and did as he was told.
 
Stiles swore that he’d only had two or three drinks, but there were at least
seven glasses in front of him. He couldn’t stop laughing, and he probably
looked like an idiot, but Handsome Stranger didn’t seem to care as he led
Stiles out of the club by his elbow.
“I should,” he hiccupped, “prolly tell, tell, um, Danny that I’m leavin’.”
“He’ll figure it out,” he tugged his arm a little too hard, but before Stiles
could complain, he was being shoved up against an alley wall.
“Ever sucked cock, kid?” he asked, boxing Stiles in and rubbing his lower body
up against him
Stiles’ mind unclouded a little, but not enough for him to shove the guy off
when he started sucking on his neck. It was slobbery and a little gross to be
honest, but all Stiles could do was lean his head back and giggle.
“I mean, I can tell you’re young. And trust me,” he laughed, still grinding
against him, “it was just adorable how hard you were trying to sound mature in
there. But I think it’s time you put your mouth to a better use.”
The word ‘adorable’ sent a shot of clarity through his fuzzy brain, and he was
finally able to muster a half-hearted shove to Handsome Stranger’s shoulder.
But the man just pushed against him harder, causing Stiles’ back to dig
painfully into the brick wall.
“Stop,” he managed, but the guy laughed again.
“What? Isn’t this what you wanted, kid? Some experience?”
Stiles struggled against him for a few moments longer, before the weight was
gone completely. Handsome Stranger was thrown against the opposite side of the
wall. He landed with a thud. Stiles’ rescuer stood with his back to him, but he
was dizzy and everything had moved really fast and he was breathless, and all
he could really see was that the guy was built like a tank.
“Beat it, before I rip out your throat.”
Now that threat sounded familiar. Stiles reached out, and when he felt leather
under his fingers, he knew that his rescuer was none other than Derek Hale.
He watched Handsome Stranger run away before he was suddenly being manhandled
out of the alley.
“Jeeze, dude, werewolf strength!” he whined as Derek gripped his arm to hard.
He let go of him with a huff, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here,
Stiles?”
“Don’t growl at me,” he moaned as his head started to spin. He wavered a bit,
but Derek was there again in an instant, steadying him.
“What were you doing in a club?” he asked, gentler this time, but still with a
bite of anger.
“Danny was go-gonna help me.”
His brow furrowed, and that reminded Stiles of how Derek’s eyebrows disappeared
in his beta form, which sent him into a hysterical laughing fit.
Derek just sighed, and then Stiles was staring at his back as he was thrown
over the werewolf’s shoulder.
He was still giggling when Derek dumped him in the passenger seat of the
Camaro.
“Where we goin’?” he asked when Derek had finished buckling him in.
“My place. Unless you want me to take you home like this?”
“No, no, oh my God, Dad would kill me.”
“Not if I don’t get to it first,” Derek muttered under his breath, but Stiles
heard, and he started laughing again.
“You sure are a happy drunk,” he grumbled, but one side of his mouth quirked up
so Stiles knew he wasn’t mad.
“Yeah, I bet it’s just fucking adorable, right? Fucking damn it.”
Derek gave him an odd look but didn’t comment as he pulled the car out into the
street and headed for the loft.
The ride was mostly silent except for an occasional giggle from Stiles and a
weary sigh from Derek.
They walked to the elevator- well, Derek technically carried him to the
elevator, but whatever- and Stiles leaned against the wall and closed his eyes
shut tight.
There was a beat of silence.
“First time getting drunk?”
He shook his head and immediately regretted it. He had to grip the handle bar
to keep from falling over when the dizziness hit him.
Derek took a few steps closer, just in case, but didn’t move to hold him up
this time.
“No, but probably the first time getting this drunk.”
Derek helped him into the bedroom when they finally arrived on his floor, where
Stiles immediately collapsed with a please groan.
A few seconds later- or it may have been hours, he was pretty out of it- a
glass of water was placed on the bedside table.
“Drink that. All of it.”
“Bossy,” he mumbled against the pillow, and reveled in Derek’s chuckle.
“Goodnight, Stiles,” he whispered, and ran a hand over the back of his neck
before he left.
 
 
Stiles woke up with a mouth full of pillow. He blinked sleepily a few times
until his vision cleared. It was still dark. He glanced at the clock and the
half empty glass of water he managed to drink before passing out.
It was only about three a.m. and Stiles was surprised to find that he had no
hangover.
He threw his legs off the bed, hissing when his feet came in contact with the
cold floor.
He heard rustling from the other room, before Derek burst in, his eyes tired
but anxious.
“Stiles?” he sounded so confused it was almost too cute, “What happened?”
He raised an eyebrow, “Nothing? I literally barely made any sound at all.”
Derek still looked hopelessly lost.
He sighed, “Your floor is cold. I wasn’t expecting it.”
“Oh,” he mumbled, and pressed the heel of his hand into his eye and rubbed.
Sleepy Derek was officially Stiles’ favorite Derek, he decided.
“Nice reaction time, though. I feel very protected.”
He just furrowed his brow and frowned.
“Uh,” the quiet felt awkward and wrong, and Stiles had to say something even if
it was obvious that all Derek wanted to do was go back to sleep, “Why don’t I
have a hangover?”
“Tonic,” he gestured to the water, “Mom’s recipe.”
Stiles laughed, “Why would a werewolf who couldn’t get drunk need a hangover
tonic?”
Derek shrugged and shuffled his feet, “Dad was human.”
“Oh,” was all he could say. Since when did Derek mention personal things? In
the year or so that Stiles had known him, the guy had been nothing but a stoic
martyr.
“You should go back to bed,” he said, and turned to go back to the living room.
“Um, dude? You can still sleep in your bed, if you want. I don’t take up that
much space.”
Derek looked at him for a long moment, his eyes hazy but calculating.
 “Okay,” he whispered finally, and climbed into bed next to him.
They laid there, not touching, and Stiles’ body was nearly buzzing just knowing
that someone as attractive as Derek was in bed with him. Even if it meant
nothing, even if-
Derek rolled over, and flung an arm around Stiles’ waist, “You even think
loudly,” he muttered against his shoulder, “Go to bed, Stiles.”
He relaxed into the werewolf’s touch, “Yeah, okay. Night, Derek.”
 
This time, when Stiles woke up, it was with a mouthful of hair.
He was currently the big spoon to Derek’s little spoon, and for some reason he
found that absolutely hilarious.
His body shook with laughter, and even though he made no sound, it was enough
to wake Derek up.
“What are you doing?” he moaned into the blankets.
“I’m a big spoon,” he said stupidly, still laughing.
“You’re an idiot.”
“And you’re a little spoon,” he choked out, and Derek craned his neck to shoot
him an exasperated look.
By the time Stiles had gotten his amusement under control, he noticed that he
had a very awkward morning situation going on all over Derek’s backside.
“Ah, shit, I’m sorry about-”
“I don’t mind,” he said simply.
“Wha- really?”
He just shrugged.
“Well, that’s very, uh, understanding of you.”
Derek scoffed, “You really are an idiot.”
“Why would you-”
Derek flipped over so suddenly, he didn’t have time to react as the werewolf
pressed his lips against Stiles’. It was brief, and chaste, and when they
parted, Stiles blurted, “You don’t want me.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I-I mean, I’m not at all, you know, appealing. And you’re you- and you are
like, Greek God status, ya know?”
“Stiles-”
“I’m just so awkward and I don’t even know how to kiss right, let alone any of
the other stuff.”
“Stiles,”
“Plus I talk too much, ya know?”
“Yeah, I know. Stiles, you’re-”
“You deserve someone so much better, someone who can handle all your sexiness
and stuff, and I’m just adorable, not hot or sexy or-”
“Who ever told you that you were adorable?”
“Lots of people.”
“They must not have known you,” Derek moved so his body covered Stiles’,
“You’re not adorable.” He lowered himself down slowly, causing Stiles’ breath
to catch and his heart rate to spike, “You’re annoying,” another chaste kiss,
“You’re infuriating.” A longer one this time, and Derek slid his tongue into
Stiles’ mouth and he just fisted his hands in the werewolf’s shirt in search of
some kind of equilibrium, “and so damn distracting.”
“Distracting?” Stiles managed before Derek plundered his mouth again, a hand
wandering farther down Stiles’ stomach. It rested on his hip, his fingers
dipping just below the elastic of his boxers.
“You don’t know how many times I took a hit in a fight because I was worrying
about you.”
“S’that why you always lose?” he asked, gasping when Derek bit his shoulder in
retaliation.
He finally shut up when Derek kissed him again, this time sucking on Stiles’
bottom lip. He whined, and it was a high, breathy sound that made Derek growl
against his mouth.
Fucking finally, Derek slipped a hand into Stiles’ boxers, and gave his dick a
good firm stroke that hand his hips thrusting up into the touch.
Stiles’ moaned again, and Derek panted against his throat, “See? You don’t look
adorable like this. You look fucking beautiful. Mouthwatering.” He emphasized
his words with the drag of his mouth against Stiles’ throat, causing his hips
to stutter and he fucked into Derek’s hand.
“Der- I need,” he bit back another moan, “I need-”
“What do you need?” he asked, as he licked along his collar bone, “My mouth?
You want that?”
Stiles jerked his head in what he hoped was an affirmative gesture. Derek must
have gotten the message, thank God, because he began kissing his way down
Stiles’ chest, pausing ever know and then to suck a mark into his skin.
“You look so good like this,” he mumbled around Stiles’ nipple, before biting
it gently.
Stiles’ arched up, his hands fisting in the sheets, “Fuck, Der.”
“I’m getting to it,” he flashed him a wolfish grin.
“Smartass,” he groaned, as Derek finally made it to his dick.
His tongue flicked out over the head, before he took just the tip in. His
tongue swirled, and he applied just the lightest bit of suction. Stiles almost
came right then and there, but the fucker pulled off.
“Don’t you fucking dare sto-ooo-” his voice gave out as Derek unexpectedly took
him all in. He could feel his dick hit the back of Derek’s throat. Stiles
threaded his fingers in Derek’s hair and pulled, causing him to moan around
Stiles’ cock, his eyes fluttering close.
“You like that, huh?” Derek was already fisting his own cock, and since Stiles’
couldn’t reach to give him a hand, he figured he could talk him through it. “I
bet I’d be real good at this too, ya think? I could wrap my lips around you,
you could teach me how. Or maybe you’d wanna fuck me instead?” Stiles’ could
feel the answering moan all the way to his toes, “That’s it, yeah? You want to
fuck me. I’d totally let you, too. I bet your cock would feel so good inside of
me, it’d be my first time, of course. No one else but you has touched me like
this.”
That did it; Derek came with a long moan. Stiles came not too long after, and
Derek swallowed around him, keeping his mouth on him until he finished. He
kissed his way back up Stiles’ chest until their lips met again, this time
slower and sweeter.
Derek curled around him for at least an hour after, not talking, just holding
him tight.
Stiles nestled in, his back against the werewolf’s muscled chest.
“Hey, Stiles?”
“Hmm?” he mumbled, feeling drowsy again.
“I’m the big spoon, now.”
And Stiles laughed.
 
 
They walked into the next pack meeting hand in hand, smelling of each other.
Isaac greeted them with a roll of his eyes and a muttered, “Finally.”
Jackson and Lydia just scrunched their noses at the two, and Scott said,
“Please don’t make out in front of me.”
Erica was practically bouncing in her seat, causing Boyd to roll his eyes as
well.
“You two are soadorable!”
Stiles groaned but Derek laughed, and pressed a kiss to the side of his head.
Stiles thought that maybe adorable was okay after all.
 
 
End Notes
     Claudia dies, but it's only mentioned passingly
     One character tried to force them self on an intoxicated character,
     but nothing actually happens
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