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Stiles liked the gym, in as much as anyone likes going to an air conditioned stifling room and running on the spot for a good half an hour whilst trying to watch music videos on a screen about 3 inches wide. He liked the gym in as much anyone likes being incredibly intimidated and slightly shamed by the tanned, buff meatheads that liked to wear strips of cloth which could be loosely described as tank tops and staring at their impossibly huge shoulders and biceps in the mirror.
Ok, so Stiles didn’t like the gym for both those reasons. In fact he much preferred running in the preserve where you could actually, you know, be interested in the things around you and not be constantly embarrassed of your perfectly normal sized arms and general chest area, thank you very much. No steroids here buddy.
Stiles didn’t even like the gym for the beautiful receptionist Erica, who, without fail, would constantly flirt and bare her none too small cleavage in pretty fluoro gym tops at him without batting an eyelid. Ok so he may like that a little bit, despite the fact that he knew she had a boyfriend the size of a mountain or the fact that he always tended to go for people the same gender of her boyfriend. But, hey, a flirts a flirt, at the moment he’d take what he could get.
No, Stiles didn’t go to the gym for any of those things. It wasn’t even the free health snacks, despite being delicious, that they had in the change rooms.
Nope Stiles went to the gym for one reason and one reason only. And that reason was currently doing squats right in Stiles line of vision as he ran on the treadmill. His name was ‘hot gym guy’ or HGG for short because Stiles liked a good acronym and much as the next guy.
And HGG was something else.
He was buff, but not steroid buff, like the others. And instead of being a gym junky who strutted around all day in a skimpy little muscle top whilst loudly discussing his high protein diets or extrapolating about his raw egg digesting ability (which, come on, ew) HGG wore dark t shirts and basketball shorts, rarely talked and if he did it was to ask to use a machine or say hello to someone he knew.
And instead of being an over tanned, over bleached, over shaved body builder, who called everyone ‘bro’ with a penchant for tantrums when his dumbbells were being used, HGG was pale but not overly so, dark haired with constant scruff on his face and a light, but good, smattering of chest hair which Stiles liked, liked a lot. Liked so much that HGG was basically the only reason he even signed up to Hale Gym to begin with.
It all started when Scott, best friend, had dragged him there one afternoon.
‘Come on dude, Isaac’s got work and I need someone to spot me, or do you want me to seriously injure myself because there was no one there to save me when the bar crushed my neck.’
Stiles grimaced, ‘I always felt like if you needed someone to spot you when you do weights than your weights were way too fucking heavy. Plus I have better ways of exercising then watching cardio bunnies on treadmills and buff dudes, secretly checking each other out, slapping each other’s asses whilst still pretending they’re straight as a pin.’
But Scott, damn him and his damn puppy eyes; Scott knew Stiles couldn’t resist his puppy eyes, no one could, so, in the end Stiles had reluctantly agreed after Scott(and his damn puppy eyes) promised him an Allison-free bro night just for the two of them. Yes, Stiles was reduced to blackmailing his best friend into spending time with him and he was most certainly not above doing it, all’s fair in love and war was his motto, especially when it came to Scott and attached-at-the-hip-Allison. He had to fight dirty.
So that was how he found himself three months ago wearing t shirt, shorts and trainers in a pristine gym, being side eyed by meaty men in ridiculously non-existent shirts. It was all very ‘Lost Boys’ homoerotic and Stiles could not wait to get out of there.
Well that was until he saw HGG, or rather when he awkwardly ran into him whilst looking for the toilets to escape his biceps being unfairly judged by that douchebag Jackson Scott was talking to.
‘Ooof’ Stiles had gasped as he had ran into what felt like a wall, until he looked up and found himself staring into stupidly pretty eyes and a stupidly attractive symmetrical face with stupidly soft looking scruff, ‘Uh… sorry dude….just uh, looking for the toilets.’ He had said cheerily, scratching his chin awkwardly, and mentally shooing away the blush on his face. Because Stiles had game, well Stiles usually had game, except he wasn’t expecting to run into unfairly attractive people like HGG, he needed at least some kind of preparation for said game. Sadly, in his dad looking runners, pale legs and awkwardly too big t-shirt, Stiles was lacking game.
The guy, already christened ‘hot gym guy’ in Stiles’ mind had looked down at him for a moment, light hazel eyes eyeing him in a kind of stern way, which was way unfair because this hot guy with his jaw attractively clenched was way too close to many of Stiles’ schoolboy fantasies, that he kind of might need a place alone right now in a different way, if you what he means. Unfortunately HGG had simply gestured vaguely towards doors to his left that looked vaguely like a toilet and had promptly stalked past Stiles.
Stiles, never one to deny himself the simplest of pleasures, watched HGG’s ass as he went, because he was a bit of an asshole and HGG had one of the best asses he had ever seen in his entire life.
So when Scott had enthusiastically asked Stiles to come with him to the gym the next day? His protests were half-hearted because he was eager to get back there, eager to see if HGG was there again.
He had been, and Stiles almost inadvertently gave Scott concussion when he didn’t ‘spot’ him well enough because HGG was at reception and jesus, even his thighs were attractive? How does that even work? Stiles should definitely not be finding HGG’s thighs attractive right now.
‘Jesus Stiles I ask you to do one thing and you almost kill me!’ Scott had said, ignoring Jackson laughing at Stiles next to them.
‘Dude it’s not my fault you have horrible taste in spotting partners, you know I get easily distracted by shiny things, and pretty things, and attractive scruffy faced things.’ Stiles said, his eyes already back on HGG who was now semi smiling at reception lady and whoa, Stiles was jealous of not being on the receiving end of that smile.
Oh shit, he was probably straight, Stiles had thought, his attention only snapping back to Scott when he had squinted in HGG’s direction , ‘What are you looking at’ his face confused. Stiles tore his gaze away from HGG and shook his head.
‘Nothing Scotty boy!’ Stiles had answered hastily, ‘Just thinking I should probably get a membership? What do you think? I could be your regular spot partner.’
Stiles pouted at Scott’s unenthusiastic expression at that announcement. Fine, he wouldn’t be coming to the gym for Scott anyway.
So it had been 3 months since that fateful day and Stiles was maybe a little bit in love? Infatuated? It was hard to tell, especially when he still didn’t know HGG’s name, or age, or anything of consequence about him. He did know that he liked to come to the gym every day without fail and at the same time and that he didn’t really speak to anyone, except maybe Erica at the desk. He didn’t smile much, or at all. He rebuffed almost every come on from the men and women who constantly tried to chat him, much to Stiles’ both dismay and relief.
He liked eating banana’s, he never looked at himself in the mirror and he tended to scowl every time the gym buffs told an extra loud crude joke or cat called any of the women at the gym and even once gave them a quiet but intense dressing down when one of them (Jackson) slapped Stiles’ bottom and called him ‘a hot piece of ass’ because apparently along with being stupid the douchebags, they were also pretty unoriginal. And Stiles may just be in love with for that alone because no matter how much he bantered with the meat heads, no one likes or deserved to be objectified like that.
It wasn’t just that the guy was hot, because he totally was, hot like the sun, like chilli, like Indian curry, like a steam room, like a sun rise, but he was also kind of a great person. And that was what really surprised Stiles about himself the most because Stiles almost always went for the assholes, the arrogant ones, the ones that didn’t know how to quit. But the more he watched HGG (which was incredibly creepy, he knew) the more he realised that he might, in fact, secretly like the quiet ones with integrity and a great work ethic. Because HGG was there every day, doing a proper workout, not the half assed running/walking Stiles did on the treadmill.
The only snag in this fairy tale was that HGG didn’t actually know he existed and Stiles was super pissed. He felt like he was going through high school all over again, where he was the wacky side kick, funny, smart, quick-witted but who never actually got the girl, or err, in his case, the guy. Where he was, once again, Xander and HGG was Buffy. He pined whilst HGG kicked ass and took names. Stiles was kind of grateful there didn’t seem to be an Angel or, god forbid, a Spike to HGG’s Buffy, because he could not compete with a Spike, no siree.
So, when Stiles wasn’t being awesome and pining and kind of creepy, he was actually quite clumsy, i.e. very clumsy. This was another why he didn’t like gyms, or treadmills, actually mainly treadmills. Unfortunately treadmills were the only machines he could actually work whilst also surreptitiously watching HGG going through his pre workout stretches which were always deliciously fun and slightly arousing to watch.
In fact they could almost be described as mesmerising and Stiles could honestly say that it was ten times hotter than any porn he had ever seen, even the super kinky stuff that he kept hidden 12 folders down in his ‘Grandma’s 72th Birthday celebration’ picture file. Because nothing says ‘No super kinky porn here’ like putting ‘grandma’ somewhere in the folder title.
So, it wasn’t Stiles fault, it really wasn’t, when it happened. In fact you could almost say it was HGG’s fault really, because he was the one that came in that day wearing ‘those’ shorts. They honestly couldn’t even be described as shorts (well they could be) in fact they were so short that the name ‘shorts’ seemed weirdly appropriate, his shorts embodied what the word actually meant. Anyway what Stiles was trying to say was that they were incredibly short and Stiles had never, ever seen HGG wear anything then his specified basketball shorts and black t-shirt, so it was safe to say he was surprised and just a wee bit excited (read; kind of horny), because HGG’s pre workout stretches that day turned into something slightly (incredibly) more obscene than usual.
So every time HGG side stretched or touched his toes, or did anything that actually moved his body in any those shorts rode up and Stiles would momentarily catch a flash of upper thigh or god forbid butt cheek, which to someone going through a bit of a dry spell like Stiles was, made everything ten times horribly, unquestionably hotter.
So when Stiles was too busy watching HGG do his porn worthy stretching routine in the mirror he wasn’t in fact paying half as much attention to his feet as his usually needed to and so it was inevitable that the moment Stiles hit the change in speed on his treadmill he wasn’t paying attention and swiftly tripped, catching himself at just the last moment. Quite frankly he was so relieved that he did the worst thing he could possibly do, and looked up. And for the first time since he ran into him on that first day months ago he catches HGG’s eyes and the bastard is smirking at him, shorts obscenely stretched over his buttocks as he stretches his inner thigh.
It’s all a bit much for poor Stiles because instead of being a normal person who does normal things, like smiling flirtily back, or winking and raising an impressed eyebrow at the shorts. Stiles has to go and gracelessly flail, lose his balance, again, and fall, hitting himself squarely on the side of his head on the edge of the treadmill on his way down. Then he loses consciousness, his last memory is of HGG kneeling over him, a very worried look on his face but all Stiles can focus on, in his semi unconsciousness states, is HGG’s crotch, because Stiles, is and will always be, to his dying breath, a bit of a pervert.
The next thing he knows is his head feels like someone’s decided to take a jack hammer to it and his mouth feels like its full of cotton balls. When he opens his eyes he immediately recognises that he’s in a hospital room. The next thing he does is to try to discern if he’s dreaming or hallucinating because hot gym guy, who will henceforth be known as heroic hot gym guy, is sitting in the room with him, asleep, still in those ridiculous shorts. Stiles cannot help himself and coughs out a laugh which he immediately regrets because it hurts his head to even blink, let alone laugh, so he groans.
HHGG is up in an instant, calling for the nurse before Stiles can say anything and the next minute his room is bustling full of people, his nurse telling him he has a light skull fracture and a mild concussion and that he needs to rest and that they’ve called his dad, who’s on his way. All Stiles can do is nod, his eyes never leaving HHGG who is still standing awkwardly in the room, trying to stay out of everyone’s way, still that delicious worried look on his face, because whatever the reason he’s here he’s at least worried about Stiles and goddammit if he’s not taking that as a win.
It isn’t until the traffic in his room dies down that HHGG moves cautiously toward the bed, ‘I um, I’m not sure if you know who I am? But you ah, you got your injury at Hale gym.’
Stiles tries to roll his eyes, but can’t because it hurts so he settles for a dismissive wave instead of the arm that doesn’t have a crazy ass needle in it, ‘Chuh, dude I might have concussion but I remember. I brained myself on the edge of the treadmill and completely embarrassed myself in front of you, you who I don’t even know your name, I just keep calling you Heroic Hot Gym Guy in my head’ Stiles ramble then immediately reddens, he had not meant to say that, like at all, he didn’t know whether it was the concussion or his pain meds that made him slip that out.
‘Sorry, that’s super creepy, forget I said it!’ he croaks out, after the uncomfortable silence stretches on for too long.
HHGG immediately goes red and scratches his neck, ‘It’s Derek. I mean, you can call me Derek.’
‘Oh well, thanks for saving me Derek.’ Stiles chirpily to cover his embarrassment and to fill the void, Derek didn’t seem much of a talker, but Stiles the stalker already knew that now didn’t he. So Stiles waits because he just said something and in normal conversation its Derek’s turn. Derek seems to realise this as he rushes on to say, ‘Oh, yeah, Laura told me I should probably come with you, to the hospital that is. Just to try and convince you not to sue.’
Stiles looks at Derek blankly, a million things going through his mind. First disappointment, firstly because it sounds like Derek didn’t come here to admit his undying love for Stiles, bummer, and secondly he feels confused, because sue? Sue Derek for having criminally short shorts is the only thing he can think of. His confusion must show on his face because Derek hastens to explain, ‘See my names Derek, Derek Hale and the gym is kind of family run and owned. My sisters and I run it. Together.’
Stiles is a little bit flabbergasted, ‘Oh.’ Is all he manages to say and then his brain finally catches up with his mouth, ‘Oh, yeah, no of course I won’t sue. I’m so freaking clumsy it could have happened anywhere.’
Derek’s frowning face turns into one of relief and Stiles is both incredibly depressed and weirdly happy to see it like that, to see he had put that expression on Derek’s face and wow he is so stupidly gone on this guy it’s not even funny, a guy who only took him to the hospital because he didn’t want Stiles to sue. Stiles tries not to let the crushing sadness show because Derek didn’t really need to know the depth of his patheticness.
A stilted ‘Thank you’ Is all Derek says in response and for some reason that clenches something in Stiles’ chest, and he feels stupidly like crying and laughing all at the same time.
‘Well, um so I definitely won’t sue you guys. The gyms great, it’s fine. Thanks for binging me to the hospital.’ Stiles says quickly, wincing when he hears the emotion leaking into his voice. Derek must hear it too because he hesitates before he goes to leave as if he wants to say something.
Stiles is saved from whatever it is when a nurse comes in to check on him and he chooses to steadfastly ignores Derek, who seems to hover for a few moments, undecided as to stay or not, an unreadable expression on his face, which then solidifies to his usual semi frown as he turns on his heal and swiftly leaves.
Stiles’ bursts into tears after he’s gone, which is, apparently completely normal for people suffering concussion, the nurse explains, so he doesn’t feel too stupid about it, ok well a little bit stupid and more than little envious of the fact that Derek, despite being in a hospital, still manages to pull off short shorts better teeny bopper as a summer music festival, and definitely better then Stiles ever could.
Stiles leaves the hospital as quickly as he can get discharged tries not to think about Derek, or his shorts on the way home in the back of his dad’s police cruiser. He had been given strict instructions from his doctor for no gym or any rigorous activity that might undo the stitches in his head or cause him pain and Stiles is almost grateful for the excuse not go to the Hale gym.
Because not only did he make the biggest fool of himself there than he ever has in his whole entire life, but he was well and truly shot down by the one guy he might actually have had actual real feelings for in, like ever. And that hurt and felt like shit and no matter how many zombies he shot in the videogame side by side with Scott for the next few weeks of recovery, he didn’t feel any better.
Scott, usually all sunshine and puppies, becomes increasingly frustrated with his mopiness, ‘Dude, come on. It’s the freaking summer, you have to get back out there, do some stuff! I know, come to gym with me!’
Stiles rolls his eyes so hard they actually hurts as he shoots a look at Scott and then indicates to his general head area which is still tender but not fully bandaged like it was when he left the hospital, he now only had a butterfly bandage over his rapidly healing scab.
Scott looks stumped for a moment then suddenly looks like he’s solved world hunger, ‘I know! You can come spot me again. You don’t have to do anything, just stand there and try not to get me killed this time!’
Stiles rolls his eyes again, but checks the time. It’s still morning so Derek will definitely not be there, plus being on break from college was getting kind of boring, he needed to get out, ‘Fine’ he mutters, not bothering to change out of his sweats because he’s not there to impress anyone and if that means shoving his greasy hair into a hipster beanie and forgoing putting in his contacts for his black plastic framed glasses, then so be it. Derek can suck it.
When they arrive at the gym it’s pretty quiet, so when Scott goes to the changing room, Stiles puts up his hood and tries to sneak past reception and Erica, mostly Erica, an Erica who is having none of his bullshit and stops him with a red taloned hand on his forearm as he tries to brush past.
‘Hey Stiles, how’s the head?’ She purrs, her hand tightening and turning vaguely threatening when he clumsily tries to dodge her.
He sighs, ‘Yeah fine thanks Erica.’ He mumbles, giving up his pretence of sneaking past her and leaning sluggishly on the reception bench. She smiles triumphantly back at him, like she just won and will always win and Stiles doesn’t doubt it for a second, she was just slightly terrifying and it kind of made him a bit envious of Boyd, her boyfriend.
‘I know someone who’ll be very happy about that.’ She says, winking at him.
Stiles rolls his eyes, again, ‘Its ok, you can tell Derek I still don’t plan on suing you guys. Seriously, I’m the clumsiest person that ever and possibly, will ever walk the earth.
Erica smiles even wider, like she knows something he doesn’t. It’s really annoying, ‘Oh my goodness, you don’t know, do you.’
Stiles looks at her irritably, so not with playing her games today, ‘Know what?’
‘The shorts.’ She says slowly, as if he’s stupid.
‘The shorts.’ He repeats flatly, because he has no idea what she is talking about.
‘Derek’s shorts.’ She says again, her smile growing. Stiles eyes her suspiciously, ‘What about Derek’s shorts?’
‘You did notice they were rather short that day you hit your head, didn’t you?’
Stiles swallows, that memory might have been the one he used when he, ahem, had an appointment with his right hand.
‘They were.’ He tries to say, casually, and by the look on Erica’s face he misses by a football pitch, or two.
‘Did you ever wonder why they were so short?’ she asks, again, rather wickedly.
‘I, uh, I thought maybe he was having a bad laundry da-...oh my god.’ He says as he takes in the gleam in Erica’s face. And suddenly remembers the smirk he had gotten and all but forgotten about from Derek before he took a tumble on the treadmill.
‘It was for me?’ he finally manages to squeak out. His brain a little bit in overdrive, not helped by the victorious look on Erica’s face who is no longer looking at Stiles but to someone behind him. Then there is a bang of a door slamming which makes him jump and turn around slowly. Because, there, looking too furious for Stiles to think he may not have just overheard his conversation with Erica, is Derek, looking all sorts of nice in a suit and tie, fuelling Stiles fantasy’s for his special right hand time for the next, oh about ten years or so.
‘You.’ Derek barks, pointing at Erica, who raises a perfectly manicure eyebrow at him, ‘I will talk to you later.’
‘And you’ he says a little more gently, not making Stiles jump any less, ‘would you come up to my office.’ He asks, adding an almost pleading, ‘Please’ on the end that makes Stiles all weak at the knees and wanting to jump him right then and there. But because he’s not entirely sure what’s happening, he foregoes the jumping and nods a little dumbly at the request, following Derek back through the door he had come out of, trying not to ogle the ass in front of him as he went.
Derek takes his time to stand behind his desk, then sitting down, fiddling with his papers and his pictures. Stiles, not really sure what the protocol is here, stands awkwardly, fiddling with his glasses.
‘I didn’t know you wore glasses’ Derek says finally, making Stiles jump for the third time in his presence.
‘I uh, don’t usually wear them. I have contacts.’ He says before mentally cursing himself. Because he’s currently in the office of the guys he’s been crushing on for the past four months who might, in fact, like him back and all his best lines, his practised charm and his flirt has seem to have vanished. It makes him feel better that Derek didn’t really know what to say either.
The silence is tense and loaded until finally Derek cracks, and bursts out with, ‘Look I didn’t mean for you to hurt yourself. Like at all, and I feel horribly terrible about the whole entire thing.’
Stiles looks at him confused, ‘Dude I was the one that was clumsy and horribly ungraceful, just because you decided to wear those, frankly quite obscene shorts doesn’t mean you did any of this.’ He gestures vaguely at his head.
Derek turns red all of a sudden, ‘No, I, it’s just that I did so of wear those shorts on purpose, Erica was right. Laura made me, she said it’d be funny to see you ah’ Derek trails off, going, if possible even redder.
And Stiles is suddenly hurt and angry, ‘Was I that obvious? No, don’t answer that because I know I was. So, what, you decided to play a little game? Thought it’d be funny to screw with the skinny guy with a crush on a guy way out of his league?’
Derek whips his head up, ‘What? No, no that’s not what happened. I mean, yeah it kind of was, but you have it the wrong way round. I was the one with the stupid crush, form when you first ran into me, like ages ago and you were always being hit on by those freaking meatheads at the weights and you always gave them sass and you never spoke to me and when you did look at me, you looked like you were scared of me so I never said anything to you because I’m really bad at small talk and you were so confident and attractive. And so I told Laura who said I just needed to do something to get on your radar, so I wore those stupid shorts which were really tight and uncomfortable and fucking short. And then, finally you freaking noticed me and then the next thing I know you’ve gone and fucking, like, killed yourself on the goddamned treadmill!’
It all comes out is a rush and Derek stops to take a breath. Stiles just stares, because what? What the actual fuck? Derek Hale had a crush on him?
‘But, you never, at the hospital you never said, you asked me not to sue you!’ Stiles says, finally regaining his ability to speak.
Derek looks slightly ashamed, ‘I know, I freaked out, ok? I didn’t know what to say, like why the hell I would come all the way to the hospital, that’s just creepy. So I just said the first thing I could think of and then you seemed kind of angry and then you ignored me and I thought I’d blew it completely so I left and Laura almost made me march right back to the hospital. Which I did, but you had already left and then I’d thought I’d lost you forever.’
Stiles looks at Derek wordlessly and Derek’s looking flustered and embarrassed and all kinds of cute and Stiles just wants to fucking kiss him right then and there, because Derek is so not the creepy one, its Stiles’ who’s the creepy one.
‘Derek, look at me.’ Stiles says gently and Derek looks at him, slightly hopeful and slightly like he’s about to be hit on the nose with a rolled up newspaper, ‘Derek you are not the creepy one here, trust me. Because it’s not like you’re the only reason I freaking signed up for this gym in the first place. It’s not like I specifically came the same time everyday just to watch you work out. It’s not like I almost jumped you when you defended my honour for me from the weightlifters who slapped my ass. It’s not like I freaking almost literally died when I saw you wearing those goddamn shorts that day.’
Derek abruptly stands and just blinks at him, his mouth slack, ‘You, you like me back?’ as if it’s the most improbably thing in the whole entire world.
Stiles laughs breathlessly and nods, finally regaining some of his fucking game to move forward and lean over to grab Derek by the tie bringing him close to his face, his breath ghosting over Derek’s ear as he whispers, ‘Of course I like you back you idiot, what part of skinny guy with a crush did you not get?’
Derek looks back disbelievingly and Stiles huffs out a breath, leaning forward and capturing Derek’s mouth in a chaste kiss; a chaste kiss that almost immediately turns into a dirty, sloppy, open mouthed obscene messy kiss because apparently Derek Hale cannot, ever, do things in halves. Which Stiles is fine with because Stiles is kind of like that for Derek. Plus the kiss is so awesomely filthy his cocks already at half mast, hard to conceal when you’re wearing sweat pants.
Stiles is loath to but breaks the kiss leaning back slightly to look at Derek and catch his breath, Derek whose tie is dishevelled and whose face is flushed and beautiful eyes are glazed, and Stiles looks down spying a tell-tale rigid line and spot of pre come staining his immaculate suit trousers.
‘Still got those shorts?’ He murmurs crawling across the desk and pushing Derek back into his office chair as he straddles him, already feeling Derek’s hardened cock beneath his tight suit pants.
‘I kept them in my drawer.’ Derek answers breathlessly, absently rutting up as Stiles grinds down on his cock.
‘You should definitely wear them again for me some time.’ Stiles says, shoving his hand down the front of his sweats and grabbing his stiff cock, jacking himself off to Derek’s increasingly frenzied thrusting. It’s hot and its obscene and it’s kind of perfect that Stiles doesn’t ever really want to stop, he can feel Derek’s hands like hot brands on his sides as he pulls him to grind harder on his cock, his breath coming out in pants and it’s so hot it’s all Stiles can do before he’s coming with a shout, staining his underwear and purposefully grinding down on Derek’s cock, practically squeezing Derek’s orgasm out of him. Derek bites into Stiles’ hoody to keep from crying out as Stiles lazily rides him through the aftershocks, sluggishly squeezing his dick in time with Derek who leans forward and buries his face in Stiles’ neck, mouthing at the sensitive skin over his collar bones. They stay there for a few minutes, each trying to catch their breath because that kind of came out of nowhere or at least out of 4 months of unresolved sexual tension. Man, UST was the worst.
‘Well, at least we know we’re sexually compatible. I don’t think I’ve come so fast since high school’ Stiles says weakly, his voice muffled into Derek’s hair as Derek laughs huffily into Stiles shoulder leaning back to smile at him. A soft, drowsy smile that makes Stiles wants to do another round of unspeakable things to that mouth.
But before he can suggest anything the unlocked door to Derek’s office bangs open and Scott barges in, abruptly coming to a stop when he sees Stiles’ rather compromising position on Derek’s lap, ‘Stiles! I uh, I thought you’d been kidn- never mind, sorry, carry on.’ He squeaks, staring for a second at the two of them, making Stiles squirm in Derek’s lap and Derek involuntarily buck up something that Scott notices before going bright red and making a hasty retreat. Erica, however, behind him, looks like all her Christmases have come at once, ‘I’ll just lock this, shall i?’ she says, smirking at Derek’s and Stiles’ equally flushed faces.
‘Yes, please.’ Stiles manages to squeak out before he hears the door click behind her. He turns back to Derek who’s smiling sheepishly up at him, Stiles smiles back dopily because Derek is seriously awesome and kind of all his, ‘Uh, ready for round two, because although that was kind of mind-blowingly awesome and I’d really like to do that again, preferably without clothes his time.’
Derek’s smiles turns a little predatory, ‘No clothes? It’s just that I have this tiny, obscene, indecent pair of shorts in my desk drawer tha-‘
Stiles doesn’t let him finish before he’s practically mauling Derek’s lips with his own, simultaneously frantically trying to pull down Derek’s pants zipper. They don’t get a chance to try out the short shorts, not that time round anyway.