They’re pretty far along when the report comes on.
Stiles’ breaths are coming out in needy pants, his hands fisted in Derek’s hair and snaking up beneath his shirt. Derek’s arms are caging his head, palms pressing into the mattress as his body rocks slowly against Stiles, the sweet friction of their jeans quickly becoming an inconvenience.
Derek supposes he should be grateful they aren’t naked yet, because the way Stiles twists out of the kiss, batting at his arms until he rolls away and then scrambling for the volume on the remote is humiliating enough when they’re still fully dressed.
For a second, as the news alert chimes, Derek dares to think it might be justified. Maybe Stiles had caught a glimpse of his father, the Sheriff, injured onscreen, or a meteor had been clocked heading toward earth, or a mad scientist had unleashed a deadly toxin on the city.
But no, as Derek rolls to face the screen he just catches sight of familiar, ridiculous bright costumes and rolls his eyes.
Stiles has twisted until he’s lying on his stomach staring at the screen, actually clutching his pillow to his chest like a thirteen year old girl and grinning at the bright red and the orange and green superheroes. They’re both beaming behind their masks, nodding along to some news story Derek can’t be bothered to tune in to.
He sits up and makes a halfhearted effort at recapturing Stiles’ attention, cupping his cheek and kissing at his temple.
“Seriously? This is what you’d rather be doing?”
Stiles doesn’t so much as glance from the TV, vaguely waving off Derek’s efforts as he gazes with open adoration at the ridiculous, neon-clad figures now feigning humility on screen. As if the attention isn’t exactly what the super”heroes” are after. Because really, why else would that one choose orange and neon green for his costume?
“Hey buddy, you start leaping tall buildings in a single bound and you can expect this kind of attention too.”
Stiles’ tone is teasing but Derek huffs, sinking back on the mattress and scowling at the ceiling.
“Do you have any idea how absurd that concept actually is? What’s the point of leaping over a building instead of going around it, besides showing off? What about the potential risk to pedestrians walking on the other side? Just going about their day, coming back from work or out shopping, and suddenly they have a superpowered idiot careening toward their head at 9.8 meters per second squared.”
This, finally, brings Stiles’ attention back to him. When Derek deigns to look back from the spiderweb spreading across the far corner of the ceiling, his boyfriend has twisted to stare, brows raised, over his shoulder. A quick glance at the screen shows a commercial though, so he’s probably only caught Stiles’ attention because the interview ended. At least it’s nice to know he rates above the newest artery clogging burger at the local food chain.
“Oh my god, Derek.” He stretches out every word, lips curling in an incredulous grin. “Do you have to work for that level of cynicism or does it just come naturally?”
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