The crushing intensity of Stiles’ arms around Derek’s shoulders and neck doesn’t let up even a fraction. He can’t dial it back – Derek’s voice is even, if a little surprised and, fair, Stiles is surprised too.
He thought he’d never see Derek again and when Scott told him that Derek was heading back to Beacon Hills, it seemed unreal – he’d thought out thirty-two different first-encounters that he’d mentally played out over and over in his head (typically in the shower while his heart pounded in anticipation of Derek’s arrival). He’d planned all the things he’d say and do, exactly how it’d go, but then he saw Derek and…
Sniffling into Derek’s shoulder, Stiles tucks his face further into the crook of Derek’s neck. His own neck and ears feel too hot and he’s embarrassed, but he can’t let go. He can hardly breathe.
“Stiles,” Derek rumbles, deep voice wonderfully close to Stiles’ ear.
Stiles shuts his eyes at the sound – he can hear and feel Derek’s pulse in his jugular, he can smell Derek’s familiar cologne and stupid hair product and aftershave and Derek Smell and it’s been so fucking long –
Stiles hiccups a sob and tightens his hold on Derek as he feels Derek’s arms snake around him, pulling him in close. Derek’s muscles coiling around him make him feel shielded from the entire world and he’d be glad to never leave the circle of them again.
He feels Derek give a small laugh at how Stiles’ hug tightens again, feels how Derek’s hands and fingers spread over his shoulder blades and lower back – it’s dizzying. Derek’s hands shouldn’t be able to turn him on like that – not when this touch is… well, it’s a little more than friendly, Stiles supposes.
He had thought he’d play it cool when he saw Derek again – it was that or start a fight – he had all these one-liners ready, all these openers scripted, but then Derek stepped out of his car and all Stiles could do was throw himself at Derek, crying before he even saw all of Derek’s face in the sunlight.
Their reunion was supposed to be a lot less emasculating.
“I… didn’t plan on this,” Stiles says in way of explanation.
“I got that feeling,” Derek jokes drily, somehow understanding all Stiles isn’t saying – that way he was always able to, “You’re good on your toes, though.”
Stiles laughs, sniffles again and smiles against Derek’s slightly exposed collarbone.
“I thought I’d say ‘let’s pretend this didn’t happen,’ but you’re, uh… you’re hugging me back. So. I figure it’s cool? Not that hugging isn’t cool – hugging is very cool, but you’ve never really been like a ‘fight toxic masculinity,’ ‘platonic touching is chill,’ ‘free friendly touches for everyone,’ kinda guy, you know? Not that you’re mean – I mean, you have been mean, but it’s not like you’re really mean, you know? I don’t mean – ugh, what I mean is you never struck me as the buggy-cuddly type, so -”
“Before you run your mouth further than you can catch up to it, it’s fine, Stiles.”
Derek’s hands move to Stiles’ waist, pulling him away enough to look him in his glassy eyes. Derek’s calloused thumb brushes away some teary residue left on his cheek and then it moves back to Stiles’ hip.
Those technicolor eyes rove back and forth between Stiles’ a few times thoughtfully before Derek murmurs gently, “makes a good excuse for me.”
Stiles’ brow furrows in confusion, he blinks away some glassiness to better look at Derek before he asks, “an excuse for what?”
It’d be nice if the world really did go quiet the first time Derek kisses him like it’s always described in fiction – but he hears his own sharp intake, he hears their clothes rustle together, he hears his heart beating like rushing water…
He feels Derek’s fingers twitch like he’s not feeling nearly as brave as he’s acting so he makes a point to kiss Derek back deeply, grip onto Derek with more vigor, encourage him to keep going because yes, yes, yes – and then he hears Scott whistle from somewhere behind him. It’s a wolf whistle and Stiles almost hates him for it.
He and Derek wind up pressing their smiles against each other in this perfectly awkward way, wanting to laugh, unable to pull their lips away, though…
“You come back all this way just for that?” Stiles asks jokingly.
Derek tilts his head another way, shutting his eyes slowly and leaning back in to kiss him again before answering lowly, “yeah, actually.”
As Stiles winds his arms around Derek’s neck, he decides he’s really, really alright with that answer.
theproblemwithstardust 