You guys MUST give us more details about the proposal(s) - How Stiles proposed and how Derek was planning to propose. Please and thank you <3
“Son, you need to calm down.”
Stiles paused in his pacing to spin on his heel, arms flailing, and fixed his father with a wide-eyed stare.
“Calm down?” His voice hitched, “Calm down? You told me he’s going to propose, dad. That’s- that’s huge.”
John raised one hand in a sort of placating gesture, “Now, I never said-”
“You implied it,” Stiles was vaguely aware that his hands were shaking as he dialled Derek’s number, for the third time in the span of a minute. A frustrated noise died in his throat when it went straight to voicemail, again.
“Stiles, I don’t get why you’re making such a big deal out of this,” John stabbed another piece of lettuce with his plastic fork, and pulled a face as if it had personally offended him. “This tastes like nothing.”
“Eat your goddamn salad,” Stiles muttered, eyes fixed on his screen as he typed out a string of texts. Badly punctuated, slightly hysterical texts.
“Not until you sit down and tell me what the issue is, here,” John tilted his head meaningfully towards the chair across from him, “I don’t want you having a panic attack.”
Stiles slumped into the seat, reluctant, and bit at his thumb. He narrowed his eyes at his left knee, which kept bobbing up and down as his leg twitched.
“What’s the problem, Stiles?”
“I was the one who was supposed to propose first, okay?” the words left his mouth faster than he could think of them, a little louder than he’d intended. At his father’s questioning look, he took a deep breath and continued, “In theory. I mean, I didn’t see it happening for another year or two.”
“So you think it’s too soon.”
“Not necessarily, no- it’s just…” Stiles exhaled heavily, ran unsteady fingers through his hair, “maybe. Maybe it is. That’s the problem- I’m not sure. Do you really think we’re ready for this?”
“I know that you and Derek love each other,” the Sheriff’s brow was furrowed, “There isn’t any doubt there, right?”
“None at all,” Stiles said- immediately, reflexively. “It’s just that…God, I don’t know.” he groaned and dropped his head into his hands.
“Didn’t you have any doubts before you proposed to mom?” he asked quietly, through his fingers.
“Of course I did,” his dad’s response was soft, “How could I not? She was an amazing woman and I still wasn’t entirely convinced I deserved her. But…” Stiles lifted his head in time to see his dad shrug. “It’s normal to have doubts, son.”
The sound that escaped Stiles was helpless: “Derek’s not perfect, but neither am I. I’m kind of obnoxious and I talk too much and– and at the end of the day, I’m just kinda an anxious mess, dad. I still have the nightmares, like, weekly. Should anyone really have to put up with that?
“And- and Derek has his own issues, but at the end of the day I’ve actually seen that he’s the sweetest goofball of a man and I love him so much and he’s probably got some huge romantic gesture planned that I could never top but, goddammit, I really wanted to propose to him first-”
“I’m going to stop you there,” his dad levelled him with a look, “Just tell him, Stiles.”
“What- tell him what?” Stiles muttered to his knees.
“Everything you just told me.”
“Go to him, tell him these things, and- goddammit, Stiles- just propose to him, if you want to propose.”
“I. I don’t have a ring, though-”
“Go.” His father jabbed a finger towards the door.
Stiles shot up from his chair and was out of the office within the minute.
John dumped his salad in the trash.
The front porch of the Hale house made one hell of a noise when you walked on it- Stiles knew this, because he was physically incapable of walking around quietly (unlike certain werewolves that he knew). Currently, it was kicking up one hell of a protest as he stomped towards the front door, floorboards whining under his sneakers; not that he cared, not that he really registered the sound over the rushing in his ears. His heart was in his throat and his mind was running a mile a minute and he needed to remind himself to breathe.
Stiles took a shuddery breath and flung the door open. It hit the inside wall with a bang.
“I was going to propose first, asshole!”
Okay, maybe not the best way he could have phrased that. He’d have to try again.
Derek, who seemed to be in the middle of assembling some kind of furniture, fumbled and dropped the screwdriver in his hands (goddammit, Derek never fumbled, what the hell). He turned to face Stiles; his ridiculous puppy eyes were wide and his eyebrows were doing the thing.
“You know what.” Stiles stalked across the room, gripped the front of Derek’s henley with his fists. “You were going to propose tomorrow, weren’t you?”
“I-” Derek looked crestfallen, suddenly, eyes shifting to the side as he said, “I’m sorry? I-”
“No, shut up and listen to me,” Stiles’ voice was low, intense, as he leaned closer and made Derek look him in the eye.
“I love you so much, Derek. So freaking much it scares me.” He loosened his grip a fraction, smoothed down the wrinkles in Derek’s shirt with one hand, “I love how you have this sense of humour that you only really share with me. I love the little crinkles around your eyes when you smile. I actually kind of love when you’re grumpy, too.
“I like it when you don’t shave and you get stubble burn all over me. I like that you’re actually, like, friends with my dad,” Stiles laughed, “I. I still have no idea how that happened, actually.”
Derek grabbed onto the hand that Stiles kept running down his shirt, lacing their fingers together,“Stiles–”
I’m not done. So,
yeah, sometimes we have our differences, like when you argue
that a bald cupcake most definitely is a muffin-”
“But it is-”
“Shut up, it’s not.” He pressed his fingers to Derek’s lips, and Derek’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m trying to tell you that I love our differences. I love that we can argue and it can still be fun.”
Derek’s lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile.
Stiles lowered his eyes and went on, “And…and I love that you’ll wake me up from my nightmares, help me count my fingers and calm down- and I just. I–” he shook his head, “I’m being cheesy, now, or whatever, I know– but you probably had something three times as romantic as this planned, so.”
Derek stared at him for a minute, gaze soft. He pressed a kiss to Stiles’ fingers, and Stiles lowered his hand.
“May I speak now?” Derek murmured.
“Just,” Stiles threw his hands up, “Will you marry me or not, you dork?”
Derek swept him- literally swept him into his arms, his feet left the floor- into what could only be described as a bruising kiss. Stiles made a soft, desperate noise and clutched at Derek’s shoulders, raised one hand and slid it along Derek’s jaw. Derek bit at his lower lip, licked into his mouth, and Stiles groaned and arched into him, seeking the warmth, craving the intensity. Gradually, the kiss slowed- became something softer, sweeter. Stiles pulled back reluctantly to take a breath, and Derek mouthed at his jaw.
“That’s a yes, right?” Stiles asked, on an exhale.
Derek buried his face in Stiles’ neck and laughed.
“You’re ridiculous,” Derek’s lips moved against his throat- soft, familiar. “Of course I’ll marry you.”
Stiles grinned so hard it hurt, and ran his fingers through Derek’s hair, “Good. Wanna put me down, now?”
“Nah,” Derek nipped at him playfully, “Think I wanna carry you upstairs.”
“Oh, good idea, yes. The best idea.” He hit at Derek’s shoulder, “Go, what are you waiting for.”
It didn’t take them very long to get to the bedroom.
((hope this was okay, anon <3))