Derek shows up to his first pack meeting after moving back to Beacon Hills wearing worn out jeans and a faded flannel, chest hair popping out near the top. His beard is full, his hair is longer, almost long enough for a bun, his eyes have smile lines. He’s happy.
Stiles walks in late, his hair disheveled, his jeans a little tighter than they used to be, his black teeshirt clinging to his arms and chest in a way that made Derek’s mouth go dry. And don’t get him started on the tattoos, the vines and runes that twist up Stiles’ arms.
“I thought I heard someone brooding,” Stiles says before he really even sees Derek, but when he does his jaw drops, “Who are you and what have you done with Derek Hale?”
And Derek, he laughs, “Hi Stiles, you look good.”
“Me?” Stiles sputters, his heart racing and his eyes wide, “Have you seen yourself? You look like a sexy lumberjack.”
Derek’s eyes go a little wider, his lips tug up in a private smile. It’s like they’re the only two people in the room. All he can hear is the steady beating of Stiles’ heart, all he can smell is the cinnamon and clove scent that is Stiles, all he can see are those honey brown eyes, at least until Scott clears his throat.
“Uh guys, can you maybe eye fuck some other time? We’ve got three trolls in the preserve and we need to get them out before they kill someone,” Scott says, eyes darting between his returned pack member and his emissary.
“Yeah, sure, yeah, we can fuck later,” Stiles says sounding a little dazed. Derek swallows and nods, eyes still on Stiles.
“That’s not what I said,” Scott mutters, turning away from the two of them and back to the rest of the pack, “I think we’re going to have to take care of this without Stiles and Derek’s help.”
“Can you manage that?” Stiles asks, shaking his head a little, “Something just came up and I’m busy now.”
“Just go,” Scott says with a small laugh.
Stiles and Derek are out the door before Scott’s done talking. They emerge from Stiles’ apartment two days later both smiling and holding hands.