Stiles and Derek getting together pretty casually. They don’t really talk about it. Nothing really changes other than them continuing to sleep together after that first time.
They’re definitely dating, Stiles is confident in that, but he’s still uncertain how Derek feels about him. He doesn’t want to be the “so where is this going?” guy. Especially not when right now everything feels as close to perfect as Stiles has ever experienced it.
At least three times a week Stiles gets to wake up next to Derek in bed. When Stiles threads his fingers through Derek’s whenever they’re close enough together to touch, Derek lets him, squeezes Stiles’ hand softly in his own.
Derek remembers his ridiculously unnecessarily complicated coffee order from the one place in town that Stiles says gets it right. Everywhere else he takes it black but that place is special.
The first time Derek brings Stiles a coffee with no reason other than Derek was seeing him and driving by anyway. But the look on Stiles’ face when he tastes it makes the back of Derek’s neck flush.
But Stiles who sometimes can’t fathom Derek Hale being attracted to him. Like the first time they get together. Derek has Stiles pinned against a wall, and it’s familiar. Except, this time after they’ve been staring at each others’ mouths for far too long, Stiles’ hands clutch Derek’s leather jacket, but he’s moving before Stiles has a chance to pull him in.
There’s a lot of kissing, and Derek’s hands on his waist slipping underneath his hoodie. And when Stiles presses his hips closer, grinding up against the feel of Derek against him, he pulls back and says, “you’re really fucking hard…” like Derek doesn’t know. Derek is probably bemused.
Neither of them are good at talking about feelings or anything. Sometimes they sit for long periods of time in silence together. Derek is always waiting for the other shoe to drop when it comes to relationships, Stiles knows this, so he gets Derek is probably feeling vulnerable or whatever.
Derek gets a new tattoo and doesn’t even tell him about it, he just shows up one day with it. It’s a small constellation Stiles doesn’t recognize on the inside of his right wrist. Derek is aloof when asked about it. And he wonders again if Derek really trusts him.
Then he’s sitting in English one day and feels the unmistakable press of a pen against the back of his neck. “What are you doing?” He asks, ducking out from the Sharpie Malia is wielding.
“Playing connect the dots.” Stiles doesn’t ask why. He just turns around and lets her commence. It’s not until he snaps a picture that he sees it. When he sees Derek later that night the marks have faded somewhat with the intense alcohol scrubbing.
Derek presses his thumb against the redness on the skin there, cups Stiles’ jaw gently. “That’s your tattoo right?” Stiles asks.
“Yes,” Derek says, letting his hand go. Stiles pulls it to him, turns Derek’s hand over to look at it.
“I don’t understand,” Stiles says, truthfully. “Why didn’t you say that when I asked about it?”
“Because we weren’t alone,” Derek says simply. “And you never brought it up again.”
“I thought it was too personal,” Stiles says.
“It was,” Derek smiles at him. “It’s my favorite pattern of moles,” Derek says.
“Yeah, I got that,” Stiles says. “What’s it mean?” Derek doesn’t say anything. Instead he moves behind Stiles carefully. Stiles lets him, he doesn’t tense up when Derek presses himself in close. It’s a familiar feeling, Derek enveloping him, nosing at Stiles’ neck and the underside of his jaw. Derek presses a kiss to the spot of his moles.
“Oh,” Stiles sighs. He pulls reluctantly away from Derek and turns around to face him. “We’ve only been going out for like three months,” Stiles says.
“Maybe I’ve been waiting for longer,” Derek says. Stiles can’t help the grin though it wobbles slightly as he feels a sting in his eyes. Derek returns it, before he leans forward and kisses Stiles.
“I love you,” Stiles says when he pulls back. “I’m not getting a tattoo about it though, alright?” Derek laughs and Stiles feels his chest flutter at it.
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