Hiiii! Could you do #78 please??
I’m working on these at a snail’s pace. Anyways I hope you enjoy it! I had a lot of fun writing it. Here’s #78: “That’s my shirt. So is that…wait?”
Stiles was the best.
Of course that was subject to opinion, but to him he was the freaking best. Ten out of ten the best friend, the best son, and especially the best boyfriend. Oh yeah that was also a thing too; he was the boyfriend of Derek Hale. The Adonis-like body, the chiseled cheeks graced with perfectly trimmed stubble, the incredibly smart and closeted jokester/nerd, the Derek Hale.
So when Stiles says he’s the best it’s because he didn’t tell Derek he was coming home from George Washington a few days earlier than planned. Oh yeah, surprise visit, probably the best idea since the whole panties thing they discovered…but that’s a story for another time.
This is how he found himself creeping up the stairs to their apartment after the longest three and a half hour drive from DC to New York ever. Even his constant music and finger drumming couldn’t distract him long enough to keep his mind off the time. It’s late; which is probably for the best since the more tired Derek was the less he used his senses, plus New York was naturally loud so the chance of blowing this too early was slim.
The chance of other forms of blowing were pretty high.
Stiles grabbed his keys, sliding them in the lock of their door as quietly as possible. The grinding of the key sliding through its riveted slot was loud and he almost wanted to scream in frustration but that would definitely give him away. Instead he huffed quietly and shoved the door open, toeing off his shoes on the mat before shuffling through the entrance to the open concept living area.
While there was no sign of Derek, the place was a mess. That was weird because Derek was such a neat freak; however blankets of all kinds were splayed about, the sink was piled with dishes, the stove top was full of crumbs…
The only thought running through Stiles’ mind was ‘what the everloving hell is going on?’.
He set his duffel bag on the couch as well as his computer bag, crossing the way to the small hallway that lead to the bedroom and bathroom. The door was cracked open slightly with soft yellow lighting pouring out. Stiles pushed the door open only to see the softest version of Derek he’s ever seen.
The socks on his feet are mismatched, he’s wearing the sweats with the holes in the legs and the sweater with the thumbholes, his hair all tousled and soft against his forehead. Stiles didn’t take out his phone despite the overwhelming urge to. This was an intimate moment and saving it on a camera felt wrong in a way.
Stiles walked over to the edge of the bed, his hand not even touching Derek before a strong grip wrapped around his wrist a tad too tight. Blue eyes flashed at him before fading quickly to reveal surprised green-ish ones.
Suddenly his world was flipped, his hip smashing painfully with another as he was pulled onto the bed. Strong arms wrapped around him and held him impossibly close, a face nuzzling into his neck and making him laugh. The stubble….well beard now, tickled the hell out of him.
A possessive growl –that went straight to his dick if Stiles was being honest– echoed through the room and against his skin.
“You’re back early,” Derek said after a moment.
Stiles pulled back a little, looking his boyfriend in the eyes, “I wanted to surprise you?”
Derek still looked taken back, his mouth parted with his teeth poking out a little. This warm, bubbly, fuzzy feeling rose in his chest and suddenly he couldn’t help but lean in and kiss that shock right off his boyfriend’s face. The slight chapped feeling of his lips juxtaposed the softness of Derek’s, their noses brushing against each other’s ever so lightly every now and then.
When they pulled back Stiles finally noticed Derek’s pillow.
“That’s my shirt,” he said blankly, sitting up a little to see it better, “so is that…wait? What?”
Derek’s face went up in flames, the tan skin suddenly dark with red flush. Stiles didn’t need the gift of lycanthropy to see the embarrassment roll off the older man in waves. Under and around Derek’s pillow was his old Beacon Hills high school hoodies, a few of his graphic tee shirts, and basically anything and everything Stiles wears often.
It clicked in his head then.
“You missed me,” Stiles deadpanned.
Derek frowned, “Stiles…what? Of course I did.”
“Well duh…I just…you went as far to be with my scent,” Stiles said, motioning to the pillow.
“I always want to be with you and your scent,” Derek said, holding Stiles closer.
A grin spread across his face, “well that’s reassuring. I’d be worried if you didn’t.”
Derek took that as a cue to nuzzle his face back into Stiles’ neck and chest, scenting him immediately. Stiles laughed softly, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend tightly, letting the wolf take what he needed.
“I’m glad to be home,” Stiles said after a while.
Derek paused, looking up, “…home?”
“Once again duh, you’re my home.”
If Stiles took an extra week off school…well it was worth it if he got to stay with Derek, his home.
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