29. “how much money would you give me to flip this table, right here, right now, in the middle of class?”
“How much money,” Derek rolls his eyes, “would you give me to flip this table, right here, right now, in the middle of class?” Stiles was leaning his chin on the palm of his hand, eyes lit up but the morning light filtering through the windows along the wall. He was gorgeous and didn’t seem to have a clue how it affected him.
“At least half my inheritance because the seat you sitting on is attached to the desk,” Derek tells him in a bored voice. Rolling his eyes and ignoring the tug in his cheek urging him to smile when Stiles looks down at the bar connecting the chair to the desk, the one he had been leaning his elbow on just seconds ago.
“How about a date?” Stiles’ grin grows when Derek jumps at the words. He’s looking at him so intently, all bright eyes and disheveled hair.
“W-what?” Derek stumbles over it, trying to recollect the calm demeanor he had mastered for interacting with the boy as not to give away his heart melting affections. Laura’s words, not his.
“If I flip this table right here in class with Finstock droning on and on right up there, you go on a date with me on Thursday.”
“Why not tomorrow?” Derek ask, eyes trained on the notes he had given up on ages ago when Stiles had started biting his pen and being the distracting menace he was.
“Because I’m totally about the get detention for today, dude.” Derek squints his eyes at the boy, smile practically splitting his cheeks as he waited.
“Sure, I’ll go on a date with you.”
“Cool, now if you’ll excuse me.” Stiles stands and dips a quick bow to Derek making him blush and wanting to smack himself for being so easy. He watches in confusion as Stiles stands and waits until at least half the class is watching him.
“Stilinski-”
“Sorry, Coach, gotta get me a date. And this is the fourth day we’ve talked about scarcity and I’m kinda done.” Without further ado the boy grips the edge of the desk and heaves it up and over. The sound is horrendous in the mostly quiet room, the wood and metal clattering against the floor.
“Detention and an entire practice of suicides, now sit down Stilinski.” Coach then returns to his lecture leaving Derek to gape at Stiles like he was some foreign creature.
“I hope I get a goodnight kiss, ‘cause suicides suck.”
Blinking rapidly as Stiles rights the desk and slides into his seat, only tripping over his own ankles for a couple seconds before landing safely. Stiles turns to look at him, confusion in his eyes, mouth opening to ask who even knows what but Derek doesn’t let him get any further.
He grabs a handful of Stiles’ plaid flannel and leans in to kiss him. He presses his dry lips against Stiles’ chapped ones, sliding them delicately and slotting them together until he can suck on his lower lip and hear this little sigh that makes his chest melt.
“Hale!” Derek pulls back, letting go of Stiles’ plaid and only getting to bask in the wet lips and hazy gaze for less than a second before Finstock shouts again, “Detention!”
Prompt #29?
Published
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