how did you even get on that topic? is all that Cora sends back.
He honestly has no idea. There he was, innocently buying his groceries for the week, when he ran into Stiles. Four hours and a third of a bottle of tequila later, they’re here.
“Okay, no. You say you understand, but you really don’t.” Stiles grabs Derek’s face in both hands and forces him to make eye contact.
Derek goes easily, blindly tossing his phone onto his coffee table. It’s not like Cora was much help anyway.
“You don’t understand because you’re not laughing,” Stiles explains like that means anything at all. Who knows? Maybe it does. Stiles is kind of stroking his fore fingers across the top of Derek’s beard and it’s making it a little hard to concentrate.
“I don’t laugh,” Derek deadpans. His timing’s off, but Stiles doubles over with laughter anyway. He moves the bottle out of Stiles’ reach and says, “I think that’s enough for tonight.”
“No! What?” Derek braces his forearm against Stiles’ chest as he reaches ineffectually for the bottle. “No, I’m fine. I’m not even drunk.”
Derek rolls his eyes. “Why are drunk? It’s a Tuesday.”
“Because, Derek. I’ve been thinking about Scott’s dick.”
“That would drive me to drink, too,” Derek mutters. He has no idea what Stiles’ sudden fascination with Scott’s penis is, but he really wishes Stiles would talk to someone who actually wants to talk about it. Or hear about it.
“It’s just,” Stiles says, completely ignoring Derek, “I think it’s hilarious that I’ve seen Scott’s dick 500 times.“
“It was 180 earlier.”
“I bet I’ve seen his junk more than Kira and Lydia combined have.”
Derek steels himself for the conversation he always at least 60% figured he’d have to have with Stiles and asks as gently as he knows how, “Do you have feelings for Scott?”
“No.” Stiles grabs Derek’s shoulders and squeezes. “That’s my point.”
Derek wasn’t aware there was a point.
“You don’t understand. We don’t want to see each other’s dicks. He gets to see Lydia’s and I want to see yours, but we have this Mount Everest of remembered penises we need to overcome.”
What is he even supposed to say to that? That is probably the weirdest logic he’s ever heard – and he’s known Stiles and Scott for five years – and it is positively the weirdest way he’s ever been hit on.
And a woman once stuck her thumb in his mouth.
He’s so caught up in trying to figure out what the hell is happening that he almost misses Stiles reaching for the tequila again.
“No,” Derek says, walking the bottle over to his refrigerator. He hides it behind the milk. Hopefully Stiles won’t go looking too hard for it.
When he gets back, Stiles is spread out over the entire couch, snoring softly. It’s hard to believe that there was a time where everything Stiles did was annoying to Derek; now, drunkenly passing out on his couch is apparently endearing to him.
He’s so screwed.
This realization is kind of anti-climactic, if he’s being honest. It’s a quiet oh, that makes sense. And it suits Derek just fine. He could do with fewer surprises in his life.
When he wakes up the next morning, Stiles is filling a glass of water from the tap.
“Morning,” Derek says, getting a childish sense of satisfaction from the dull thud the glass makes when Stiles drops it into the sink.
“Uh, hey man.” Stiles turns to face him slowly, sheepishly. “Any chance we can forget, you know…”
“You talking about dicks all night before passing out on my couch?”
Stiles closes his eyes slowly. “I’m never living this down, am I?”
Stiles nods as if he expected nothing less.
Finally taking pity on him, Derek says, “Come on, let’s go get some breakfast.”
Stiles opens his eyes incredulously. “Why would I want to spend more time with you? Why would you want to spend more time with me?”
“Because you made some compelling arguments last night.” At Stiles’ dubious look, Derek continues, “Granted, most of it I’m pretty sure even you don’t understand right now, but I think what you were trying to say was that you’re interested in me.”
Stiles rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, but eventually nods. “Yeah, I was. Am. Is that- is that okay?”
“Yes,” Derek says, taking a slow step closer. “Me too. Is that okay?”
Stiles looks confused for a moment before a hopeful grin spreads across his face.
“Really?” he asks, taking a tentative step towards Derek.
At the rate they’re going, they’ll reach each other in four days. Not that it really matters. They’ve been inching towards each other for years. What’s a little while longer?