Work Text:
Stiles has no idea how to break this to Scott. He obviously has to, because it's Scott, and the idea of keeping it from him is just - honestly, considering how huge this is, and how messed up their lives can get at short notice it might actually be dangerous not to. Secrets are bad, they've already proven that. Stiles just doesn't know how to tell him. He thought about sending a text, because then there'd be a fifty-fifty chance as to whether Scott turned up at his house mad or not. Give Scott enough time, and there's a chance he might have already accepted the idea. Or accepted it enough to keep the shouting and the protests to a minimum. But Scott's been getting good at honing his anger lately, and Stiles figures that something this important should probably be done face to face. He can't remember if the on again/off again relationship with Allison is in an on, or an off stage right now. It's really hard to keep track.
He's pretty sure Derek doesn't expect him to keep it a secret, he would have said something, surely? He knows what Stiles is like when it comes to having opinions, and telling people things. He hadn't said anything about not telling anyone, so he's going to assume that it's all good. Of course he could just text Derek and ask him, since he's allowed to now. He's allowed to text him whenever he likes. Because Derek is now his boyfriend - and Stiles honestly still isn't sure if that thought makes him want to laugh hysterically, or lock the door, draw the curtains and have some personal alone time.
That's the thing though, that's the thing he's been worrying about. Because Derek's a werewolf, and in Stiles's experience when they like someone then they're all over them, like literally all over them. Seriously, they scent mark the hell out of things that they like, whether they notice they're doing it or not, and they're possessive little shits. Thanks to a few late-night conversations with Scott, and a few afternoons spent with a bored Erica, Stiles knows far more about the inner workings of a werewolf psyche than he did before. Give them an excuse and they just bury their nose in stuff, and rub all over it. It's a compulsion.
I mean sure, Derek was born a werewolf, so he's probably awesome at fighting all the compulsions and instincts. Or maybe they'd be more important for him? He controls them better though, or seems to. But Stiles gets the impression Derek doesn't even particularly care what Stiles smells like. If he's not wandering around with his hands in his pockets, then he's carefully standing six feet away from Stiles. He seems to be going out of his way to not touch him - which is weird. There hasn't even been any frustrated pushing him into things, which - ok, kind of abusive relationship territory. But he sort of misses all the contact, and if Derek wanted to do it again, maybe a little more gently, Stiles would be totally fine with that. But there's no new touching, which is weird considering that now they're in a place where touching of some sort is kind of expected. Stiles would really like there to be touching. He is absolutely ready for there to be touching.
Stiles figures there are a couple of explanations. One, Derek has absolutely no sexual interest in him at all, and this really is some sort of lonely attempt to cultivate friends, and the whole dating thing is a huge mistake that Derek feels too awkward about admitting to (which doesn't really explain the no touching thing, because the others, who are his friends, have almost made a game out of subtly trying to tag him.) Two, Derek is into him, but he's holding back, because Stiles is a sixteen year old virgin, and Derek doesn't want to scare the crap out of him with all his werewolf courting behaviour (which, again, he mostly already knows about, unless Alphas go about things way differently?) Or three, Derek is just hugely traumatised and doesn't want people touching him, or to touch other people unless absolutely necessary because of...reasons? But he's working on it because...also reasons?
At the moment Stiles is kind of assuming it's two, because Derek is the one who most obviously came out of his comfort zone to make this happen. He wouldn't have done that if one, or three applied.
But Derek isn't sixteen, Derek is twenty three, with all the experience and expectation of a twenty three year old, and ok, Stiles may be jumping the gun here, because even if you count the whole milkshake thing they've only been dating for a month. But Stiles has to assume that, at some point in the vague future, Derek's going to want to have sex with him. And Stiles is pretty sure he's going to want to be on top.
Which is simultaneously the hottest thing he's ever contemplated in his entire life, and completely fucking terrifying.
Seriously, Stiles has never had so many confused erections in his life. With Lydia the whole worshipping her from afar thing had been a lot easier, because she was beautiful, and smart, and slightly terrifying, and the thought of her demanding that he do things had been his go-to fantasy for almost a year and a half. But she was also tiny, and not exactly physically threatening (though he would never, ever tell her that.) Whereas Derek is huge and intimidating, and not a girl at all, and he's absolutely capable of snapping Stiles into pieces, without even thinking about it. Stiles is pretty sure that Derek gets whatever he wants in bed, and yeah, that's still both blindingly hot and absolutely terrifying, with pretty much no common ground between the two.
Stiles knows the human-werewolf thing is clearly possible, since Allison hasn't been clawed, spindled or mutilated in any way by Scott's enthusiastic affection. Which, granted he's not thinking about too hard because it's Scott. But Scott still carries spiders outside. Scott is not an aggressive person by nature. So it's not the same, at all. Also thinking about Scott and Allison is sort of vague because they're over there, and Stiles is very much here, with the whole Derek situation. Which is a whole different ball game when he's all up and personal in your business.
And, yeah, the fact that Stiles is sixteen, very nearly seventeen, pretty much guarantees that he's thinking about sex constantly, all of the sex, all of the time. But if he's honest with himself, he's not quite...prepared for anything that huge. Not the whole sex thing. The more adventurous and...invasive parts of it. Thinking about it maybe - but not actually doing it.
He'd like something though. Because it's weird to date someone for a month and not kiss them, right?
*****
Stiles is only half paying attention when he answers the door at eight in the morning on a Saturday. He figures it's a parcel, or Scott, or something. He has a half full glass of juice, and he's wandering around in a shirt that's faded all to hell, and his pajama pants.
He does not expect Derek at his front door.
"You're at my front door," Stiles says. He's not sure whether he makes it a question or not. He definitely makes it surprised.
"Yeah," Derek says, like there's nothing weird at all about him standing there, in his all-purpose leather jacket and his tattered shirt (which Stiles thinks is the same one the kanima bled all over,) looking stupidly, ridiculously handsome in a way that Stiles knows for certain that he's genetically incapable of, especially since he's fairly sure he's just spilled juice on his pants.
"I'm not sure how to cope with this," Stiles admits. "You've never been at my front door before." He squints, just in case there's some sort of sinister reason, because it's way too early for emergencies, and running around, and rogue werewolves.
Derek just stands there, he doesn't look threatened or harassed, or rumpled like he's spent all night fighting things in the woods (Stiles has some experience with that look.)
"I have to go out of town." It's said kind of stiffly, and Stiles isn't entirely sure what that means, so he just takes it for what it is. Which he assumes, is Derek letting him know he's going to be gone, so they won't be able to meet up. Which is the sort of thing you do, when you're dating. It's kind of cool that Derek came and told him in person rather than sending a text though.
"Oh, hey, that's cool. I mean thanks for telling me. How long are you going to be gone for?" He leans against the door, and tries to give the impression that he's completely fine with it, which he is, but he thinks that's the sort of thing Derek should know. The fact that he's totally and obviously fine with it.
"No," Derek says, possibly before Stiles can try to nonchalance his way into a panic attack. "I mean I'm going out of town today, to pick something up. Do you want to come?"
Wow, that's completely different.
"Oh, yeah, yes. I can absolutely come." Stiles looks down at himself. "I'm going to go get changed, you can wait here, if you like." Which is rude, obviously. "Or you could come in, and wait." He isn't sure whether that sounds awkward, like he's inviting Derek in to watch him change, because he's not - almost definitely not - and now Stiles is just staring at him. He settles the matter by tugging on Derek's jacket, and awkwardly pushing the door shut behind him.
Stiles jogs up the stairs, and pulls on clean jeans and shoes, changes his shirt for something that looks less like he slept in it. Then he grabs his phone off the desk, and quickly flicks into the messages, finds Scott.
'Can't meet up today, I'll call you later.'
That's all he means to say. But he has a new message open before he really thinks about it.
Fuck it.
'Me and Derek kind of went on a couple of dates. Don't freak out.'
He sends it to Scott, then shoves his phone into his pocket, grabs his jacket and heads out.
*****
Stiles knows that Derek doesn't usually drive this carefully. It's like he's suddenly realised that Stiles is a fragile collection of bones and blood vessels, that can't magically fix itself if damaged. And Derek's now suddenly afraid that he's somehow going to be responsible for breaking him into pieces. Stiles has to wonder how much attention you really have to pay when you're driving, if you're a werewolf. When you have enhanced speed and reflexes, and the ability to heal almost any injury. Stiles doesn't know whether to laugh, roll his eyes, or glare in frustration that Derek is obviously being extra careful. Because Stiles is pretty sure that focusing on their differences is only going to make them more obvious - and in Stiles's case they aren't so much differences as deficiencies.
"You can probably drive faster than this you know, I won't spontaneously start to melt if we go over fifty," he reminds him.
"My car, my rules," Derek says, in that stern voice that tells Stiles there will only be frustration and anger if he attempts to sway him with logic.
"That's funny, I don't remember that ever applying when I'm driving you around. Granted, you're usually bleeding, or in some sort of terrible danger when I'm driving you around. Which you never really appreciated."
"I appreciated it," Derek says firmly. "I did." He glances across at him.
"Mostly you appreciated it with scowls and physical violence," Stiles points out - and then immediately wishes he could claw the words back, when Derek's face just closes off. Because, yes, it's probably not a good idea to remind the guy you're dating about the fact that he used to throw you around.
There's the squeak of leather when Derek's hands tighten on the wheel
"I wouldn't - you know I wouldn't." It sounds like it wants to be a statement. But Derek doesn't look so sure, he looks like he desperately wants Stiles to confirm as much.
"Yeah, dude, I know you wouldn't," Stiles says. "And I'm giving you a pass on the earlier stuff, because I know that's the kind of shit you can maybe get away with when you see someone as the irritating kid brother who won't stay out of your business, and is going to get himself killed. But not when - we're past there, we're way, way past that."
"Yeah," Derek agrees.
Stiles's phone saves him from a moment of terrible awkwardness he can feel coming, and he squirms about in the seat, until he can drag it out of his pocket. There's a text from Scott.
'That's not funny.'
Stiles exhales, and shakes his head, then types one back.
'Not a joke, and I'm offended, jsyk.' He balances it on his leg. Because he's pretty sure Scott's confusion and horrified affront isn't over yet.
Derek lets Stiles mess with the radio, and judging by the lack of wincing he doesn't find Stiles's taste too objectionable. Though at one point he does reach over and jerk the volume down.
"Sorry," Stiles says, because he forgets about werewolves and their stupid super-hearing sometimes. "So, where are we going?"
"Well you already vetoed dead bodies, that didn't leave me many options," Derek says flatly.
"Aw, your sarcasm is like a baby bird, flopping its way out of the nest." Stiles smiles, and Derek clearly doesn't know whether to be amused or insulted. His face seems to be trying to do both. "See, you're not awful at this."
"No, I'm awful at this," Derek says, mostly through his teeth. Though it seems more self-deprecating than angry today. So Stiles thinks he's getting there.
His phone vibrates against his knee again.
'Are you doing stakeouts together or something? Where are you?'
Stiles glances out the window, at the rush of trees and sunlight and blue sky that goes on for fucking miles.
'Only if you mean sexy stakeouts, and I don't have a clue.'
Derek's looking at him now, all questioning eyebrows.
"Scott," he offers and jiggles the phone. "I kind of - I told him about us. That we're seeing - we've been hanging out, with each other, that we've been out, a couple of times...together." Stiles winces at his mangled attempt at that, and suddenly his heart's beating a little fast, because assuming Derek will be ok with it, and knowing Derek will are two different things.
Derek's expression is weirdly intense all of a sudden.
"Ok," he says.
"Really?" Stiles sounds more surprised than he means to.
"You had to tell him eventually, it's Scott," Derek says simply. "I just wasn't sure when you'd do it. He's not my biggest fan at the moment, so I figured it would be complicated for you." Derek's concentrating pretty fiercely on the road at the moment. "And I know I'm not exactly the best person to be seen with, or associated with."
Stiles pulls a face at him, then laughs.
"Dude, I'm not embarrassed to be dating you, are you insane? Have you actually seen you?"
Stiles can tell immediately that was the worst thing to say.
"I didn't mean that was the only reason," he adds hurriedly. "That's not the only reason, you know that right?"
"Yeah," Derek says, quiet and not firm at all. Stiles doesn't have to be a werewolf to know that's something that Derek really doesn't want to be a lie. Which, seriously, makes Stiles want to find whoever Derek dated before him and ask them, what the fuck?
Stiles leans forward and jerks the radio down, until it's completely quiet in the car.
"Do you really think I'm just interested in you because of what you look like?" he asks, because he's pretty sure people have thought some awful things about him. But this one actually hurts.
"I know I'm not the easiest person to get along with," Derek says, offering the words out carefully, working his way round the concept, but he's still not saying no. Stiles hates the fact that he didn't just say no.
"I think we're getting along fine," Stiles says tightly.
Derek doesn't seem to know what to say to that.
Stiles twists in the seat, and glares at the side of his face.
"Shit, you know how pissed I am at you right now, for thinking that about me? What about the fact that you've saved my life, and before you even knew me, while you still hated me even? More than once, like, five times."
Stiles scrubs a hand over his head
"Look, I know there's a lot of shit we don't talk about, a lot of very disturbing shit, which I know you don't want me to bring up, and I'm pretty sure there's more that I don't know about. But you keep showing up to save people anyway, even when they don't deserve it, even when it puts you and your pack in danger. It's like real life just keeps beating the crap out of you, and you're still a good guy. You're still fucking decent. And, yes, fine, you are an unfairly beautiful human being - werewolf, whatever - no matter how many bitch faces you pull, or how many grubby corners you lurk in. But that would mean nothing if you were genuinely cruel, or crazy, or had horrendous personal hygiene, or just didn't care about anyone - and I realise I've gone off topic somehow, as I often do. Long story short, you try really hard, and you suck at things, in a way that makes me really want to make you suck less, and you don't give up on people, and you're always trying to fix things, do better, be better. Jesus, you're Batman, you do realise that? You are actually Batman, only with claws and teeth and things. Werewolf Batman. Which is kind of insane every time I think about it. So, no, fuck no, I'm not just dating you because you're incredibly hot. You're awesome."
Stiles has to stop to take a breath, and he realises that was the most awkward stream of awkwardness to ever come out of his mouth. He winces and looks over at Derek - who's watching him sideways, expression unreadable.
"Oh my God, can I play with the radio now while we both pretend that I didn't say any of that out loud?" he says breathlessly.
Derek very slowly reaches over, and flicks the dial back up.
They're apparently going to pretend nothing happened. Derek is going to let him pretend that nothing happened. Derek is awesome.
Stiles breathes out, and stares down at his phone, where he's apparently missed three text messages from Scott.
'What do you mean sexy stakeouts??'
'What the hell Stiles?'
'Are you with Derek right now?'
Ugh.
Stiles shoots back a reply to all three of them 'I'll talk to you when I get back, promise,' and then shoves his phone under his thigh. Because he knows Scott too well to pretend that he won't send him any more messages.
"I don't know many places to go," Derek admits quietly into the silence, because awkward subject changes are clearly not only Stiles's thing. "I don't know what people do, I don't date a lot."
Stiles resists the urge to ask him - again - why he's doing it now, and why with him.
"You're allowed to repeat things you know. We can do stuff we've already done. We could see another movie, you could pick, unless you have awful taste and then I will veto all your choices - that was a joke, stop glaring. Seriously, doing things you had fun doing the first time isn't against the rules."
Derek seems to think Stiles is teasing him, either that or he actually thinks there are rules and is pissed Stiles hasn't shared them. He probably doesn't think there are actual rules...shit, are there actual rules? Stiles isn't exactly sure about that himself.
"Something different," Derek says at last, interrupting his paranoid stream of thought. "Something new, new things are good. Things I haven't done, things I can't compare to...anything else."
There's a lot in that sentence, but Stiles is pretty sure it's all rigged to blow, so he leaves it alone.
"Fine, ok, something we haven't done." He thinks about it for a minute. "We could go bowling?" he suggests.
Derek's face is a study in the phrase 'no words are necessary.'
"Scott took Allison bowling - ok, fine, bad example. I don't really want to recreate a Scott/Allison date. I think you'd be awesome at it though, by the way. Because you're all about the focus and the accuracy, the smashing of pins..."
Derek's still glaring.
"...the awesome bowling shoes."
Derek's glare promises terrible, terrible things. But Stiles just grins at it, until it goes away. It's like a superpower.
They stop for lunch at a diner on the road, the glossy windows promise burgers, fries and an unnecessary number of delicious ice cream flavours. Stiles is more than happy to take them up on their offer, because he skipped breakfast, and he's fed Derek twice - three times if you count the pack of M&Ms Stiles shared with him, while waiting for Isaac and Scott to get out of the locker room. Because Scott dresses with the speed of an old lady, and Isaac is...Stiles doesn't even know, trying to lure Scott back into the pack or something? Either way it's absolutely Derek's turn.
They eat a burger and fries, leaning against a fence at the top of a giant hill, milkshakes balances on the wood (Stiles insists it's a tradition, which makes Derek smile briefly, and that's definitely starting to look like less effort.) Stiles makes Derek have banana this time. Because vanilla is boring and Derek needs some excitement in his life that isn't related to blood and danger. Though half way through he's still pulling faces, so Stiles calls him a baby and swaps them over.
"I knew I should have gotten you strawberry instead. You're probably a strawberry sort of werewolf," Stiles murmurs, to distract himself from the fact that Derek has the straw Stiles has been chewing in his mouth, and isn't complaining about it at all.
"No one's ever hunted a strawberry," Derek protests.
"You're just not even trying to break the stereotypes are you?"
Derek does something around his straw, something which may be a smile. Stiles is collecting them all to study later.
"And just so you know, there is no way I'm watching you commit blasphemy by dropping animal chunks into a perfectly good milkshake." Stiles finishes his own, loudly, and quite frankly he's amazed the second straw survived as long as it did. His teeth have actually gone through this one.
The car's been sitting in the sun and it's warm. Stiles opens as many windows as he can reach, before Derek makes him stop. Derek doesn't seem to be in a hurry to leave. He's just holding the keys against the wheel, forehead scrunched like he wants to say something and doesn't know how.
Stiles isn't sure whether telling him to just spit it out will help or not.
But then it's just gone, Derek's mouth shuts again, and then twists at the corner, like he's berating himself for being a coward, and Stiles really wants to push. He'd said he wouldn't, and he knows it probably wouldn't get him anywhere but he really wants to, because he's been letting Derek get away with...so much. He figures he's owed a push.
"I'm seventeen soon you know," he says instead, because his brain likes to fuck with him sometimes. He tries really hard not to poke the elephant in the room that is his age. Derek always gets this guilty expression on his face when he does. Stiles wonders if it's a self-destructive thing. This sudden need to screw himself over when good things happen to him.
But Derek doesn't do the face, he just looks at him.
"I know," he says carefully.
"I know you don't really like to talk about it. But yeah, you know I'll be seventeen soon, I'm just wondering if that will weird you out less? Because I'd kind of like to get to the part where it's not weird. It still feels like we're kind of - I don't know - waiting for something to be right. I don't mean you, I mean you're awesome, like I told you earlier, in that horrifically embarrassing way. But I feel like we're still tripping over things, and messing things up, afraid to say things in case they're wrong. Where it's just easy for everyone else."
Derek winces, face closing off, and that's a bad thing, Stiles never intended that to happen. He reaches for Derek's sleeve and jerks on it, until he looks at him again.
"No, dude - Derek, no, that's not what I meant at all. I'm messing up this explanation. I like that it's hard, and I like that it's scary, because it's still the best thing and I'm still really not sure why it's happening. But I'm not going to question it, because I like it too much to pull the curtain back and find, like, a wizard there - not that I'm saying you have a wizard at your house, or you're a wizard. Just forget the whole wizard thing, ok. The wizard is irrelevant. I'm just saying it feels real because it's so hard, and real is sort of easily breakable and I'm trying really hard - I'm trying to get this right. Your face kind of tells me what's good and what's not, but not all the time so - yeah, I'm trying, and I like that I'm getting more things right, but I'm still scared I'm going to screw this up."
Derek gives him this look, like Stiles has said something good, somewhere in there. Something in his ramble was really, really good. He's wearing this little half-smile, the one that Stiles thinks says he's glad this is working, even though he still doesn't have a fucking clue why it is. That's an awesome expression on Derek's face.
Stiles huffs laughter, and he's leaning across the middle of the seats without even thinking about it, before he realises what he's trying to do, instinctively, even though they've never done it before. But it's too late to pull away without it looking really obvious, and Stiles thinks it will be less humiliating in the long run if he just - yeah.
Derek doesn't pull away, and he has awesome reflexes, so he could. But instead he lets Stiles lean in, all the way into his personal space, fingers tangling awkwardly in his jacket.
It's just a warm press of mouth, it's maybe the closest thing to innocent Stiles has ever done. But his heartbeat is so fast it's just a crazy rush of sound. He can feel the soft give of Derek's mouth, and the rasp of his stubble against his upper lip.
Holy shit, they're kissing.
Stiles can hear the slow creak of leather, and the tiny noise Derek makes in the back of his throat, and it's good, it's so good. Even though he's barely moving, it's all just warm pressure and breathing.
Because maybe they're at a place where they can do this now. Where Stiles can just kiss Derek whenever he wants to. He can't quite handle that, even though it's actually happening, and that's insane, because they've been dating for a while, and this is a normal thing that normal people who are dating can do whenever they like. Stiles isn't sure why it's such a huge deal. It just is.
It's a huge, huge deal.
Stiles breaks away before he wants to, all excitement and impossible grin.
"Oh my God," he says quietly.
Derek's just staring at him, one hand clenched tight on the steering wheel, his mouth is still really close, and open a little bit now - and Stiles thinks if he kisses him again Derek might leave his mouth open, and that's a whole different sort of kissing which he would really like to try.
"Oh, wow," Stiles eloquently. He thinks he should do better, but that's all he can manage right now. "Can I do that now? Is that something I can do? Is this something we do now?" Stiles is pretty sure that it is, but he still has this horrible fear that Derek will say no. Because he's not quite sure how to deal with a world that lets him kiss Derek whenever he likes.
Please say yes.
Derek sighs, like he's going to be a huge pain.
"Yeah," he says slowly, and his voice is warm, and easy.
Stiles is laughing and leaning over the seat again, and he works out that it's impossible to kiss someone while you're grinning. But he can't stop - doesn't want to stop. This is a little amazing, the fact that Stiles can kiss Derek, and he's totally fine with it. Whenever he likes.
Yeah, that's awesome.
*****
Scott's sitting on his bed when Stiles gets back.
He looks like he's been there for a while, covers rumpled around him, book half-open next to him. He thinks Scott may actually have been doing homework while waiting for him. Which probably shouldn't be as funny as Stiles thinks it is. Though he already knows this conversation is going to start off badly. Because Scott's already sniffing in a really, tragically unsubtle way, and yeah, Stiles thinks that probably isn't going to help, because the smell of Derek has to be pretty much all over him. Stiles honestly doesn't know how good Scott's sense of smell is. How much exactly can he gather from Stiles just standing there, feeling vaguely embarrassed, and nervous, and generally wafting it all at him?
"You were serious," Scott says, stiff and angry. "I thought you were joking, I really did. What the hell are you doing?"
"I'm not doing anything." Stiles shrugs - which, yes, defensive is probably not a good way to start, and he feels guilty, because this isn't something he wants to have to defend, because there is nothing to defend.
Scott scowls at him, because it's probably all obvious when you can smell people and their stupid emotions, but Scott isn't supposed to use his superpowers against him.
"Ok, fine, I'm sort of maybe seeing Derek. Which yes, I'm still a little surprised by every time I say it out loud. Of which this is only the second time, because I had to say it out loud to myself just the once." It was actually twice, and it had been awesome.
Scott gives a jerky little twitch, like he wants to drag Stiles close - and maybe scrub the smell of Derek off of him, judging by the way his angry face keeps getting interrupted by little confused expressions. Which is both hilarious and disturbing.
"Do you not remember everything we've been through because of him?" Scott snaps out.
"To be fair it wasn't all because of him," Stiles says immediately.
"Yes, it was. All this time he's been trying to find a way to get me to come back, to get me to stay with his pack. What the hell do you think he's doing?"
Stiles glares at him.
"Wow, thanks for that, really," he grinds out. "That's awesome for my self-esteem. And for your information he doesn't ask me anything about you. We don't talk about you at all. We don't talk about pack business, or anything that might be construed as him pumping me for information. I'm not stupid, Jesus, and do you really think that kind of skeevy manipulation is Derek's style?"
Scott looks like he really wants it to be Derek's style.
"I don't know, I don't know, he's done some pretty desperate things to try and build a pack -" Scott stops, forehead creased, mouth going soft - and then suddenly firm, like he's steeling himself for something. "He hasn't -"
"Hasn't what?" Stiles asks, already knowing he probably doesn't want Scott to try and flounder for an end to that sentence.
"He hasn't made you do anything you didn't want to do?" Scott asks cautiously.
Stiles's brain goes somewhere very bad, but he's pretty sure that isn't what Scott means.
"Y'know, sexually?" Scott looks horribly uncomfortable asking, and then suddenly furious. "Because if he has, I'll -"
Holy shit, it turns out that's exactly what Scott means.
"Oh my God, oh my God, Scott, no, there is no touching going on at all. It's not like that, at all." He shudders like he's trying to shake the insinuation off of him.
Scott's pushing his hands into his pockets so hard he looks like an angry pencil.
"What am I supposed to think? He's what, twenty five?"
"Twenty three, and we're just dating, in that normal way that everyone does - ok, maybe not everyone, there is occasionally the threat of zombies, but this is Beacon Hills, so -" Stiles shrugs. His town is insane, it really is.
"But why?" Scott demands.
"You have seen Derek, right?" Stiles feels like kind of a dick saying it, because he's not dating Derek just because of that, and he explained all that three hours ago. But that's not something he's going to share with Scott.
Scott sighs. "Yeah, but he's kind of an asshole."
"To be fair, being an asshole is a pretty good defence for the shit he's had to deal with in his life."
"It doesn't make up for the fact that sometimes he gets kind of violent," Scott says, and Stiles is surprised how protective Scott looks all of a sudden. He's not expecting it. "I've seen the way he used to treat you."
"He's not hitting me either, God, you're making this sound so bad, and it's really not like that at all."
"It wouldn't be the first time he's hit you," Scott says, firmly, like he thinks he's scored some sort of point.
Stiles opens his mouth, and then closes it. Because, ok, yes, there is a way for Scott to make the whole thing sound worse. He's really starting to wish he hadn't shared so many slightly exaggerated tales of Derek's painful displeasure.
"It's different now, I'm not the irritating little brother any more, and he gets that that isn't ok. Though yes, I am still fully aware that he's grumpy, and easily irritated, and a complete social failure."
"Then why would you even..." Scott makes some sort of weird hand gesture, and Stiles doesn't know - doesn't really want to know what he's trying to indicate with that.
"Can I remind you of the shit I went through for you over the whole Allison thing. That I'm still going through. I'm pretty sure you owe me a free pass when it comes to judging who I go out with." So many free passes.
"I know," Scott says. "I know, but it's Derek. Jesus, Stiles, Derek? Really?" Scott's face scrunches in, and Stiles knows his thinking face by now. Which usually never ends well. But he figures he owes it to Scott to at least listen to him rant about it.
Scott squirms awkwardly for a second.
"Are you into the whole werewolf thing? Is that what it is?"
Oh my God.
"No, and I will toss you out of the window, Scott," Stiles tells him. "Don't think I won't."
Scott throws his arms up in a shrug that's so big it looks like he's trying to fly.
"I was just trying to work out why. I mean you go from Lydia to Derek. Is this a rebound thing? Like, she's back together with Jackson and you wanted to -" Scott shakes his head in helpless sort of way. "I don't know, pick someone who's absolutely the opposite of everything she is."
"He's not exactly the opposite. Derek's bossy and likes to get his own way too."
"Stop making jokes," Scott says, frustratedly scrubbing his hands through his hair.
Stiles comes close enough to throw himself down beside him, watches Scott's serious face bounce around for a second.
"Would you just - please, because it's good. It's strange, and I have no idea how it happened, but it's really good and I don't get to have things, like ever. So please just - can you just be grudgingly ok with it, on the outside at least...until it inevitably blows up in my face and ends horribly." He's being realistic about this at least. Which already gets him more points than everyone else in the room.
"You like him, I mean you actually like him?" Scott still looks like he's tasted something horrible.
"I genuinely do like him," Stiles agrees. "He's grumpy, and he's bad at everything, but I like hanging around him. I would very much like to date him until he decides to stop."
Scott frowns at him.
"Just don't, ok," Stiles says quietly.
Scott sighs.
"I feel like a bad friend for wishing you didn't. You know this is going to turn into a complete mess the minute something happens and we don't want to do what he wants."
Stiles sighs, and gives a jerky nod.
"Yeah, yeah, I do. And you're not a bad friend." He sways sideways and thumps their shoulders together. "You're an awesome friend."
Scott makes a noise like he's making a huge sacrifice by accepting this.
"Though you are no longer allowed to bitch at me for anything to do with Allison," Scott decides.
Stiles pulls a face.
"I've totally lost my smug, I'm-judging-your-relationship card, haven't I?"
Scott nods fiercely.
"So, dude, are you on again, or off again, with Allison? I can't remember."
"Not allowed," Scott reminds him.
"Damn it!"