Reblogging again because FIC :D (not totally happy with it, it didn’t want to end)
Stiles’ ax is dutifully hanging off the side of his belt as he creeps and crunches through the forest. He stays close to trees when he can, looking behind him. He thinks, for a moment, that maybe playing Slender before he left wasn’t his best plan. But it’s took late for regrets so he trudges on. Eventually he starts to see things that look familiar—that one berry bush that Stiles thinks is poisonous, the little puddle that goes between being a never ending puddle and a dry mudcake. He grins, and takes a confident step forward—
And promptly slams into a wall of skin. Warm skin, nice skin, nonthreatening skin.
Still, Stiles reaches for his ax just to be safe. He’s got it out of his belt and raised over his head when large fingers curl around his wrists.
Stiles preens up at Derek. “Hey you!” He lets the ax drop slowly, situating it back against his belt. “I was looking for you!” Stiles fumbles with his pockets while he talks, looking for something. “Okay I know we hung out for a while, and I know we had to deal with all that unresolved sexual tension, and I mean now we’ve acknowledged it—but, the thing is,” he grins nervously at Derek, “I’m in school now so I can’t exactly come over every day to hang out with the caveman in the woods.” He pauses to motion to Derek.
“Stiles, the point.”
It’s like Derek didn’t say anything. “And I mean, you can come over but I don’t really want to have to hide you under my bed again when my dad gets home early, y’know?” Stiles nods because of course Derek knows. Finally, he makes a noise of success. He holds out his hand.
“That’s a cellphone.”
Stiles smirks proudly. “Yeah. You know, so we can talk without sending some signals or something.”
Derek grins down at the little, cheap flip phone. Then, he smiles at Stiles. “Alright.”
“Well, now that that’s out of the way I wanna talk about one more thing,” without waiting for an answer, Stiles breezes right along, “going back to, y’know, that unresolved sexual tension. I mean, I’m not like a child or anything, I’m young but it’s not like I’m gonna change my mind and turn you into the cops or anything, soooo….” Stiles kicks at the dirt, hands clasped behind his back as he looks everywhere but Derek. “I—if you really don’t want to, that’s fine, but I really want to, so, uh.” He gulps. “Yeah.”
Derek raises an eyebrow, which makes the flush on Stiles’ skin just more apparent. But he’s still smiling, so Stiles takes that as a good sign. Stiles steps forward, looping his arm around Derek’s neck, pressed into the fur vest. As Derek leans in, stubble tickles at Stiles’ chin. He laughs once, trying to stifle it as he feels the lightest press of lips against his own.
For a moment, Derek simply stays there, lips barely touching Stiles’. And then Stiles pushes closer with a pleased noise escaping from his lips. He holds tighter onto Derek’s vest, and tilts his head to the right, just so. Derek’s eyes fall shut as his hands grip greedily at Stiles’ hips.
When they break apart Stiles is flushed bright pink, grin splitting from ear to ear. Derek rolls his eyes, but nuzzles at Stiles’ temple, kissing just above his ear. Stiles sighs in return, “carry me?” He asks, opening his eyes wide and innocent and pleading. Derek wants to say no, but it’s like Stiles owns him—not that he really minds—so Derek scoops Stiles up by the underside of his knee and the small of his back.
Stiles is asleep by the time they get to Derek’s cottage, so he simply carries Stiles to the bed and curls around him without bothering to strip or grab the blankets. Stiles turns, just before Derek dozes off, and presses his face against Derek’s neck, sighing in sleepy content.
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