“Do you want to tell me what’s got your undies in a bunch or am I supposed to pretend you’re just fine?”
“My underwear isn’t in a bunch,” Derek mutters, giving Stiles an annoyed look before he shoves a handful of fries into his mouth.
“So we’re going with the pretending then.” Stiles rolls his eyes as he takes a bite of his burger. “You aren’t very good at faking it, you realize?”
“I’m better undercover than you, so I think I can fake it pretty damn well.” Derek looks far too smug at getting a dig in about Stiles’ recent undercover debacle.
“Yeah, well, I’m good, too. It’s not my fault that we didn’t know Romero could speak Polish,” he mutters, kicking Derek’s leg under the table because he’s really eight and not thirty, after all. “If my partner had given me accurate information about the arms dealer’s multilingual abilities, I’d have refrained from calling him a scum sucking asshole while buying the guns.”
“Your partner didn’t know that the drug dealer was raised by a Polish neighbor who taught him the language when his crack addict mother was sleeping off her binges.” Derek’s eyebrows talk for a moment but Stiles totally ignores their accusation of him incorrectly blaming Derek for the undercover nightmare that ensued.
“Excuses,” he sing-songs. “If I’d been doing the research, I’d have been completely thorough.”
“I was thorough, and I saved your ungrateful ass before Romero could put a bullet in it, so some appreciation would be nice.” Derek shakes his head. “Next time, I’ll just let the bad guy shoot you.”
“No, you won’t. You’d miss me while I was in the hospital,” Stiles says confidently. “Besides, you’d never let anyone else kill me. You swore you’d be the one to do it the first day we got partnered together, and I know you’ve likely been plotting a multitude of ways to do so over the last seven years.”
“I’m up to three hundred and twenty-six different ways,” Derek says demurely, his long lashes distracting Stiles for a moment.
“See? I know you’ll keep me safe because you’re possessive that way.” Stiles looks down at his plate when he realizes how that might be interpreted but, fortunately, Derek’s in a bad mood, so he’s not alert enough to catch the duel meaning and jump on it to tease him.
“You shouldn’t get too confident. One of these days, I might not be there or I won’t be fast enough. You still need to learn to think before you act.” Derek’s amuse smirk becomes a scowl. “Romero got too close this time, Stiles. If I’d been five seconds slower, he’d have shot you. I don’t plan on attending your funeral anytime soon, so you’ve got to promise me to stop being so damn reckless.”
“I’m not reckless,” Stiles denies. “Just because I’m slightly unorthodox sometimes, it doesn’t mean I’m rash or careless. Yes, Romero got close while I was protecting that woman, but I could have survived a shot to the arm. She wouldn’t have survived getting shot in the head because he assumed she was a cop, too.”
“It was too close for comfort,” Derek says firmly. “You’d better not scare me that way again. Got it?”
Stiles blinks at him and slowly nods. “I got it. I’ll try not to get shot.” He glances out the window to watch the pedestrians walking down the streets of San Francisco before he turns back to Derek, watching his partner duck his head to pick up his burger, the tips of his ears turning red as Stiles looks at him. It is pretty warm in here. “Seriously, Der, what’s got you stressed? You were fine when you left my apartment last night. Well, not fine because your team sucks ass this season and got their ass handed to them by the Yankees, but not stressed and snippy like you are today.”
“My team is amazing, and they’d have won if the umpire hadn’t been so against them.” Derek sulks slightly, which is fucking adorable and short circuits Stiles’ brain as he stares at Derek’s mouth a little too long. “As for your stubborn persistence that I’m in a bad mood, it isn’t intentional.”
“I never said it was,” Stiles points out. “I just know something’s bothering you, so tell your best friend all about it.”
“I don’t see Boyd anywhere,” Derek deadpans.
“Ouch.” Stiles grabs his heart and sits back in the booth. “Words can wound, dude. That hurt worse than getting shot in the leg last year.”
“You’re an idiot.” Derek huffs, his lips twitching reluctantly. “And don’t call me dude.”
Stiles grins as he leans forward. “But it’s okay if I compare insults from you to getting shot?”
“My words are obviously more dangerous than a bullet ripping into your thigh.” Derek shrugs. “Who am I to argue with that?”
“You are more dangerous than bullets,” Stiles murmurs, cursing his life as he feels warmth making its way up his neck and into his face. He’s thirty damn years old. He shouldn’t be blushing like a stammering pre-teen talking to a pretty boy, yet he’s often betrayed by his physiological response to his feelings for Derek. He’s just lucky that Derek doesn’t seem to connect the blushing with Stiles being halfway (all the way, who is he kidding?) in love with him.
“Laura called me last night,” Derek finally blurts out, sighing dramatically as he stabs his fork into his side salad to violently destroy the poor defenseless tomato that’s sitting there hiding amongst the lettuce leaves.
“And that made you hate tomatoes?” Stiles arches a brow, watching Derek look confused for a moment.
“No, it just made me want to run my car into a brick wall so I could avoid Cora’s wedding,” Derek says, making a face when Stiles purses his lips. “I didn’t mean anything suicidal. God. I just meant to injure myself so traveling back to Beacon Hills would be impossible.”
“That seems pretty drastic just to avoid a wedding. Cora’s not forcing you to give a speech, is she?” Stiles asks, somewhat eagerly because, if so, he’s totally begging Cora for a video of it. Derek hates public speaking and any charming conversational skills he has completely go out the window the minute he gets in front of a crowd larger than twenty.
“If she was, I’d currently be in the hospital with a broken leg that I managed to acquire between home and the station.” Derek’s tone is dry yet totally sincere.
“Very hardcore of you. And stupid.” Stiles rolls his eyes. “Anyway, that did Laura say that got under your skin?”
“Mom is planning to invite all the single men and women she knows to the reception if I don’t RSVP by Friday with a Plus One.” Derek groans and rubs his hand down his gorgeous face. “Since I’m the last single child, she’s focusing all of her attention on me, so Laura was warning me.”
“Doesn’t Talia realize that her plotting is likely to backfire?” Stiles arches a brow. “She doesn’t strike me as the type to meddle that deliberately but maybe she’s worried about your biological clock ticking now that you’re thirty-five.”
He grew up in Beacon Hills, and he became good friends with Cora during high school when she dated Lydia, who is still one of his best friends. Derek is five years older than them, though, so he’d already left for college by the time Stiles started hanging around the Hale house all the time. When they both ended up as partners together at the San Francisco Police Department, it had seemed a little like fate, to Stiles, who had crushed on hot senior Derek during his seventh grade year at the combined secondary school. To Derek, it had been an annoying coincidence until they realized they worked amazingly well together. Now, they’re best friends as well as partners, and Stiles is head over heels for someone who isn’t interested in him outside of the platonic. Unrequited love suck, but he’s grown used to them during the last seven years. Besides, this isn’t his first experience with unrequited. It seems he only falls for people out of his league. It’s a curse.
When he realizes he drifted into his thoughts, he focuses on Derek, who is just glaring at him. “I’m only thirty-five,” Derek tells him finally. “I’m also bisexual with a leaning towards males, so the biological clock isn’t really going to affect me. I can adopt at any age, so long as I won’t be sixty when the kids are graduating high school.”
“There’s also surrogacy, but you can jerk it into a cup until you’re old and wrinkled to get a baby that way, so never mind. It just seems a shame to not use those good genes of yours for some lucky kid to win the genetics lottery,” Stiles points out, watching Derek blink at him stupidly. “What? You’re gorgeous. It seems a shame not to pass on those Hale family genes. As it is, I won’t be passing on the possibly damaged Stilinski genes, so adoption is definitely in my future. By the time I’m forty, at least, because I want to be physically fit to enjoy my kids’ childhood.”
“I’m not gorgeous, asshole. But you’ll make a good father,” Derek murmurs, ducking his head to likely glare at his food again. He clears his throat. “Anyway, contrary to your beliefs, my mom is planning to try setting me up at Cora’s wedding unless I come up with a date between now and Friday. The wedding is next weekend, so it’s not a lot of notice, which is probably why she waited to mention anything to Laura about it. It makes it difficult to come up with a plan to get around it.”
“She totally knew Laura would tell you, too, because you two are like twins separated by two years.” Stiles grows thoughtful. “Well, finding a date wouldn’t be difficult for you. All you’d need to do is smile at anyone and they’d do whatever you asked.”
“I know I could find a date, Stiles, but I don’t want to take a first date to my sister’s wedding where all my family will likely interrogate them. Besides, I don’t know if my mom would stop her plans just because I get a date,” Derek admits. “She wants me in a relationship, and a random first date isn’t likely to stop her matchmaking efforts.”
“You’re probably right.” Stiles considers it a little further. “Well, you need a relationship then. Something you’ve got happening that maybe you haven’t told her about yet because it’s relatively new, and you didn’t want to jinx it. We can figure this out, Der. It’s like an undercover assignment, really, and you just need to figure out who to ask to be your partner to pull it off.”
“You’re my partner,” Derek says simply, staring at him intently. “There’s no one else in my life that knows me well enough to pull something like this off, Stiles. Boyd would laugh his ass off if I mentioned it to him, Erica is a one man woman and wouldn’t even fake it for a friend, and Isaac can’t lie to save his life. You’re the most logical choice if I actually listen to you and do this.”
“If you actually listen?” Stiles scoffs even as his mind is racing because what the hell has he got himself into? He has feelings for Derek, major intense butterflies in his stomach and jerking off thinking about how amazing the sex would be and maybe even the occasional crying himself to sleep thinking about a future with kids and smiles and snarky bickering and making up all the time whenever he’s had way too much to drink. Stiles is good at undercover work, regardless of Derek’s opinions on the matter, but he isn’t sure he’s good enough to pretend to be in a relationship with Derek and fake being in love when he actually is in love and wants a real relationship with him. It’s giving him a headache just thinking about it. “It’s really your only option unless you want your mom to set you up with every single person in Beacon Hills between the ages of twenty and fifty.”
“Thirty to forty,” Derek corrects. “She knows I’d only go five years above or below.” He groans and runs his hand down his face. “This is ludicrous to even consider, and I feel like I’ve somehow stumbled into some romantic comedy of errors, but it actually is the most logical option.”
“Yeah, well, that makes you the Katherine Heigl in this situation, which is actually pretty funny, so I say we call this Operation: Chick Flick,” Stiles suggests, nudging Derek’s leg with his foot. “You don’t have to be stuck with me, Derek. I’m sure Gina would be willing to help out a friend, and you don’t have to worry about her getting mixed signals since she’s a lesbian.”
“No, I want you.” Derek’s ears are red again as he stares at Stiles. “I mean, it’ll be easier if it’s someone that my family already knows is in my life, and I trust you to be able to carry off this charade without them getting suspicious. It’s only a week and a half until the wedding, so there’s not a lot of time to work out enough details with anyone else that my family wouldn’t be able to see through immediately. Will you do it?”
“Sure.” Stiles can’t refuse, not when he knows how much Derek hates getting set up, and not when Derek is looking at him that way when he’s asking for his help. “I’ll be the best fake boyfriend you’ve ever had.”
“You won’t have any competition,” Derek says dryly. “I’ve never fake dated anyone before.”
“Well, I’ll still be the best,” Stiles tells him confidently. “So, let’s discuss our story. We need to be on the same page, and we need to make sure we think of everything because your family is scarier than Romero, dude, and I don’t want Talia coming after me for breaking her baby boy’s heart.”
“We can make it an amicable split,” Derek suggests. “In a few weeks, I’ll mention that we decided maybe friends works best for us or something. That way, the family won’t blame you for anything. I know you and Cora are still friends, after all.” He sighs. “As for how it started, I don’t know. One minute we were arguing about a case and the next minute we were kissing?”
“That’s not very romantic.” Stiles smiles slightly. “Maybe I had a near miss at work, since that did actually just happen, and it made you realize that you can’t live without me, so you asked me out for dinner. We had dessert at my apartment, if you know what I mean, and we’ve been dating since, but we’re keeping it on the down low because of work or transitioning from the whole friends to lovers thing or whatever.”
“They’d know it was a lie because I’m too much of a coward to put myself out there like that, even if you’d almost died,” Derek reminds him, poking at his salad again. “It wouldn’t matter if I’d realized I was attracted to you or was falling in love with you, I’d still be too scared to risk losing what we have now to make a move. You know that Cora teases me a lot about being emotionally withdrawn when it comes to dating and stuff.”
Hearing Derek discuss falling in love with him like it actually happened is difficult to hear because Stiles knows it’s all just part of this fake relationship cover story they’re creating. This is definitely one of the stupidest things he’s ever done in his life, including kidnapping Jackson Whittemore junior year because he’s an asshole who spread rumors about Cora and Lydia, and it’s even worse than stealing his dad’s car that one weekend after graduation to drive Scotty down to Tijuana to get a really bad tattoo and get high on some good marijuana. Pretending to fake date the man he’s in love with is the worst idea ever, and Stiles worries that his heart is going to take a beating by the time it’s over.
Stiles shakes his head and focuses. “Alright then. We’ll change the plan. They know how impetuous I can be, so they’d probably believe that I almost died and realized that I’m ass over head in love with you. That realization then led to me taking you on a picnic in Golden Gate Park, at which time I confessed my feelings for you via a medley of love songs while a gaggle of tourists videotaped the whole embarrassing thing. Clips can be found on Youtube, but we’ll never tell the keywords to search for, so it’ll also serve the purpose of driving Cora insane as she tries finding those non-existent videos.”
“Oddly enough, they’d totally believe that nonsense over me actually asking you out on a date,” Derek says. “Driving Cora insane is just an added bonus. Alright. Picnic in the park with poorly sung love song medley. That’s our backstory.”
“I’ll put together a medley for you to reference so you don’t get awkward when someone asks, since you know they definitely will, and say something random that I’d never ever use in a confession of love scenario.” Stiles kicks at Derek’s leg. “By the way, I did hear that poorly sung comment. Coming from you? I’d say it’s nice to meet you, Pot.”
“I’m not the one claiming I declared my intentions via song.” Derek looks more relaxed now, his lips curved into a fond smile. “When did this picnic happen?”
“April. I had to turn thirty first, since we all know about your five year rule, and I was six years younger prior to April.” Stiles understands that Derek’s experience during college with the crazy older lady who wanted to seduce him and kill his family definitely influenced his five year age limit, as if that somehow meant his prospective dates would be sane. A theory that was shown to be wrong when he dated the woman who was convinced sacrificing virgins would give her immortality and almost killed a teenager who lived in her apartment complex before Derek caught her. Yeah, okay, he can definitely understand why Derek stopped dating and hasn’t gone out with anyone seriously in all the years that they’ve been partners. Stiles hadn’t been around for the virgin sacrifice chick, but he heard about it from coworkers.
“You don’t think I’d make an exception for you?” Derek asks, looking at him intently again.
“I’d respect your rules, so it wouldn’t matter.” Stiles shrugs. “So, I assume we aren’t waiting for marriage before we have sex, are we? In which case, you’re going to need to be comfortable if we touch intimately because Laura’s going to know it’s fake if I’m not doing PDAs. I’m extremely tactile, and, when I do date someone I’m semi-serious about, I touch a lot. Not that there have been many of those, but she was around for the high school sweetheart, so she knows how I behave.”
“We already touch a lot,” Derek reminds him, his gaze dropping down to look at Stiles’ mouth. “I think I can handle those touches lingering a little longer or whatever you feel is necessary for intimacy. Are you going to be comfortable if I kiss you? I wouldn’t be dating someone and not kiss them occasionally.”
Alright, so he’d been wrong. This isn’t one of the stupidest things he’s ever done. No, this is the stupidest thing. It takes the prize and hits number one on that list. Stiles stares at Derek’s lips, feeling that horrible blush spread back over his face. “Sure, but, uh, this is odd, I know, but not with tongue,” he says quietly, knowing he can’t survive this if his first real kiss with Derek is fake and part of their lie. “It’s just, tongue kisses are extremely intimate to me, more like a real relationship thing, and I don’t want to risk getting weird with you because you kiss me that way. Anyway, my dad and friends still live in Beacon Hills, you know? If they saw me kissing you like that, they’d probably start planning our wedding.”
“Huh.” Derek arches a brow and just looks at him. “That’s surprisingly old-fashioned of you, considering your habit of discussing casual one night stands pretty openly.”
“What can I say? I’m an enigma. Also, dude, I don’t have casual one night stands very often.” Stiles grins because he’s managed to avoid having a first kiss with Derek that complicates everything in his head and his heart. “Anyway, other kisses are totally fine. Can you think of anything else we need to discuss now? If not, we should probably get back to work before the Captain realizes we aren’t actually interviewing witnesses to the assault last night.”
“If I think of anything else, we can figure it out later.” Derek tosses a twenty on the table that covers both their meals at this hole in the wall they enjoy visiting for lunch. “I’ll RSVP tonight so my mother can stop her planning, and I think I’m not going to tell her who I’m bringing just so they don’t have time to prepare an inquisition for you.”
“Good idea.” Stiles lightly punches Derek’s bicep as they leave the restaurant. “Nice to know my superior strategizing skills are rubbing off on you, sugar buns.”
“No.” Derek glares at him. “No pet names.”
“But, Der, you know I’m a pet name king. Not even honey? Or baby? Or sweetie?” Stiles thrusts his lips out in a pout. “You’re no fun.”
“You aren’t dating me because I’m fun,” Derek drawls as he slides into the driver’s seat of their car. “You’re dating me because you can’t live without me, babe.”
“Hey! No fair. If you get to use pet names, so can I,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes when Derek just laughs at him. “It’s not funny, babe.”
“It’s a little funny.” Derek’s smile is spreading wider, his eyes crinkling up, and Stiles can’t resist returning the smile. “Thanks, Stiles. Seriously. I really do appreciate you agreeing to this.”
“It’s not a problem, Der. I’m happy to help.” Stiles looks out the front windshield as they drive towards the neighborhood where they have to start their witness review. “Operation: Chick Flick is going to be a success.”
**************************
This is even worse than Stiles originally expected. With a week and a half to think about the fake dating Derek, Stiles has built up a lot of possible scenarios for how this wedding could go, and none of that planning prepared him for the reality. The Hales are thrilled that he’s Derek’s date. Peter actually received money from both Talia and Joseph because his prediction had been correct, and Stiles really dislikes the idea that he inadvertently contributed to Peter Hale making money. Peter’s such an arrogant ass, and not in a sexy attractive way.
Besides the money exchange, Stiles has received so many hugs and ‘welcome to the family’ and ‘it’s about damn time’ comments that he’s almost starting to believe that he and Derek having a relationship is true. Everyone seems so convinced it’s been inevitable for them to get together, and he can’t help feeling flustered at the sincere well wishes. They’re lying liars who lie, after all, and it’s causing some guilty feelings, too, because the Hales are nice people. Derek seems just as overwhelmed at the attention, only it’s probably worse for him because he doesn’t harbor secret feelings for Stiles, and he’s probably disgusted at the idea that his family thinks he should lower himself enough to consider dating Stiles.
Stiles does, at least, really like Cora’s new wife. Braeden is pretty awesome, a US Marshall who kicks ass without apology, and he’s already teased Cora about stealing away her woman if she messes this relationship up. Of course, that had resulted in a hard punch to his arm, which totally is going to leave a bruise, for him saying such a thing when Derek’s right there, and how could Stiles even tease that when he knows Derek doesn’t understand what teasing means. He’d like to tell Cora that her beloved brother does know how to tease and prank, but it’s not worth it.
“Why did Cora come tell me that I need to get a handle on my man?” Derek walks up beside him, holding out a glass for him. “It’s ginger ale. I asked the bartender to give you that instead of champagne since I know you hate that stuff.”
“Thanks.” Stiles grins at him and takes the glass. “Cora’s convinced you don’t know anything about teasing, and I didn’t want to get into a long discussion about your list of ways to murder me as proof that you do, indeed, understand teasing.”
“Thank God. I prefer it if she thinks I’m a boring old stick in the mud who doesn’t actually understand her pranks because it means she doesn’t bother targeting me,” Derek mutters, drinking from his own glass. “What were you teasing her about?”
Stiles rolls his eyes. “I said she’d better treat Braeden nice or I’d steal her away, and she decided you’d find that offended despite the fact I totally didn’t mean it.”
“Is that your type?” Derek actually doesn’t look amused as he stares across the reception hall towards Cora and Braeden. “You haven’t ever dated anyone in the years we’ve worked together, you know, so I had no idea what your type actually is.”
“She’s not my type, Derek. I was just teasing Cora.” Stiles looks at Derek’s profile. “My type tends to run more masculine, overall, and I’d say it’s the cliché tall, dark hair, and beautiful.” Turning away from Derek, he notices Talia watching them curiously. Stiles reaches over to touch Derek’s elbow. “Stop staring at your new sister-in-law. Your mom’s paying attention.”
Derek glances over at him, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “I do understand teasing, you know? I was just curious if that’s what you look for in a romantic partner.”
“I know. As for your curiosity, I don’t actually have a type.” Stiles reaches over to straighten Derek’s tie, smoothing out the wrinkles in his crisp white shirt. “I tend to fall hard when I come across someone I want, and it lasts years even when it’s hopeless. I’m just lucky that way, I guess. Unrequited love is my best friend and has been since I was seven and decided I was going to marry Lydia because she had pretty hair and was super smart.”
“Lydia? My sister’s ex-girlfriend Lydia?” Derek smirks slightly. “The one who was an out and proud lesbian who got arrested protesting the bathroom ordinance as being transphobic her sophomore year at college? That Lydia?”
Stiles grins. “Yeah, that’s Lydia. She’s pretty awesome.” He wags his finger at Derek, spilling some of his finger ale on his hand. “No smirking, asshole. I was seven, so it’s not like I knew she was into girls back then.” He switches his glass to his other hand and sucks his finger clean, licking at the skin so it doesn’t get sticky. When he glances up at Derek, the tops of his ears are red, but it isn’t actually that warm in the reception hall, so Stiles isn’t sure why he’s flushed.
“So Lydia was the first one. Who was next?” Derek finally asks, voice slightly husky in a way that makes Stiles’ mind go to Very Bad Places. Derek clears his throat. “I mean, I assume you’ve had more than one, even if I find it difficult to believe that you’re cursed to unrequited feelings.”
“College was a guy named Ethan. He was my roommate’s best friend, and I thought that he was rather perfect,” Stiles tells Derek, not mentioning that Ethan had been tall with dark hair and had a smile that made Stiles think about Cora’s hot older brother because, well, that would be creepy and make things awkward. “He was gay, so I might have had a chance, but he never showed any interest, and I wasn’t going to make things strange by hitting on him, so I settled on being friends. Just like with Lydia.”
“Nobody’s perfect, Stiles.” Derek reaches up to stroke his jaw, rubbing his thumb across Stiles’ cheekbone. “Some people are pretty close, though. My dad’s watching, so I’m going to kiss you now.”
“Okay.” Stiles tilts his head, and Derek places a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth. “The longest running unrequited feelings, even surpassing the five years of Lydia obsession, is too fresh to talk about, so forgive me for not satisfying your curiosity completely.”
Derek raises his head slightly, looking right into Stiles’ eyes like he’s somehow able to read his mind or see his soul. “Is or was?”
“Is,” Stiles whispers, swaying slightly towards Derek.
“Aww. You two are so adorable together!” Laura’s announcement makes Stiles take a quick step back, and he’s grateful for the interruption because he’s been skating far too close to the lines for his own good. This isn’t a real date. Derek isn’t really interested in him or attracted to him or kissing him because he wants to. No, it’s all fake, and Stiles has to remember that. Laura is grinning at them. “I always knew there must be something between you, the way Derek always talks about Stiles this and Stiles that. I think I knew the first night he called me to rant about his new partner who was some hotshot rookie who got lucky busting a case during patrol and was promoted too quickly, and how this guy was a sarcastic asshole with eyes that weren’t even a recognizable shade of brown and a mouth on him that should be illegal.”
“Laura!” Derek is glaring at his sister, the tips of his ears incredibly flushed. “I never said anything about his mouth.”
“My bad. I inferred that from the very lengthy rant interspersed with mentions of his attractive features.” Laura smirks as she tugs on one of Derek’s ears. “It wasn’t until he’d taken a breath that I got to ask this new partner’s name and found out it was our ickle Stiles.” She winks at Stiles. “Then it all made sense. Anyway, I’m claiming the title of knowing the longest that you two would eventually get your heads out of your asses and end up together.”
“We’ll let you claim whatever you want if you just go away,” Derek growls quietly, making a face at her when she just laughs.
“Actually, would you mind watching our drinks, Laura?” Stiles flutters his eyelashes at her as he takes Derek’s glass from his hand and sets it on the table beside Stiles’ glass. “I’m going to go dance with my boyfriend.”
“You’re too cute.” Laura gags. “You still blush when you call him your boyfriend, and Derek’s blushing about memories of your first meeting. I honestly thought Derek was lying when he called and said he was bringing a date, but I knew he wasn’t as soon as I saw you together. It’s obvious to anyone how much you both care about each other. He managed to keep your relationship a secret even from me, which is actually somewhat infuriating.” She wags a finger at her brother. “No secrets, remember?”
“Sorry. I wasn’t going to get your hopes up if Stiles realized he could do better,” Derek says, looking at Stiles in a way that makes his heart race. “He’s amazing, you know? I still keep thinking I’ll wake up one day and find out this has just been a wonderful dream.”
“Ugh. Go dance. I can’t handle all the sappy romance. Bryan is never this sweet to me,” Laura grumbles, glaring over at where her husband is talking to Joseph.
Shaking his head slightly, Stiles stands up and offers his hand to Derek. “Shall we, babe?”
“Yeah.” Derek takes his hand, fingers wrapping around his wrist and palm as he stands up. “Thanks for the save.”
“Anytime,” he murmurs, stroking his finger across Derek’s palm.
The fast song that had been playing is finishing when they reach the dance floor, and Stiles can hear the next song starting. It’s a slower song, so he moves his arms around Derek and reminds himself that this isn’t the first time they’ve danced together. No, that was during an undercover operation at a club with a bad strain of heroin being run through it, and it had been a lot more suggestive dancing then, though they’d both been so focused on the job that Stiles didn’t really get to enjoy it.
“Oh, I know this song,” Stiles says, smiling slightly as he listens to the woman singing about saying nothing at all.
“I’ve heard it before.” Derek has his hand on the small of Stiles’ back, his other hand still holding Stiles’ hand as they dance to the love song. He looks at Stiles’ face as they dance, leaning in to rest their foreheads together. He sighs softly. “Don’t let anything Laura said bother you, okay? She’s just exaggerating.”
“I know.” Stiles smiles wryly. “You hated me the first day we worked together, after all. You started your hundreds of ways to kill Stiles list by lunch time that day.”
“I never hated you, Stiles. You just weren’t what I was expecting.” Derek tightens his grip on Stiles’ hand. “You know, I’ve been thinking.”
“Alert the press. A rare event has taken place. Hell must be freezing over as we speak,” Stiles teases even as he nervously licks his lip. Whenever Derek tells him he’s been thinking, it’s usually either a break in a case or something very important.
“You went with Hell freezing over?” Derek scoffs. “Flying porcines is much more creative.”
“Yes, but that would probably just make me start craving bacon, and we aren’t having dinner for another hour of this endlessly long reception,” he points out, rubbing his thumb over the expensive material of Derek’s shirt where his hand rests against his waist.
“Earlier, you said is,” Derek whispers, voice low and quiet. “Is unrequited. But I’ve been thinking, and you don’t actually spend time with anyone except me and my friends and Caitlyn and her clique who aren’t into guys at all.”
“Just drop it, Der,” Stiles says firmly, tightening his grip on Derek’s hip. “This isn’t a case to solve. It’s my life.”
“The thing is, I’d normally drop it because Cora’s right. I really am a coward when it comes to my emotions.” Derek raises his head and looks down at him as the song changes to something else soft and romantic and wedding appropriate. This time, it’s a dude singing about being a dream and a wish and a fantasy. “But I think it’s time for me to be brave because this? It’s worth the risk.”
“You aren’t a coward, Der,” Stiles tells him, unable to look away from Derek’s beautiful eyes. “But please drop this. I can’t…”
“You’re wrong.” Derek clears his throat, the tips of his ears reddening and a faint red appearing high on his cheekbones. They aren’t dancing very much, so it’s not a flush from exertion, and it’s definitely not too warm in here. Stiles trips on his own feet as he suddenly realizes that maybe Derek’s blushing. He’s so used to his own full face blush that is impossible to hide that he never considered that all the times he’s seen the red ears Derek might be embarrassed. Derek strokes Stiles’ back lightly, which gets his attention back on him instead of in his own head.
“What am I wrong about?” Stiles looks at him curiously.
“Unrequited means that the feelings aren’t reciprocated,” Derek says softly. “That it’s hopeless, never going to happen, pining until eventually moving on.”
“Yes, I’m aware of what the definition of unrequited is, asshole,” Stiles mutters. “I don’t really need you pointing out that it’s unreciprocated.”
“That’s not what I…” Derek groans and stops dancing as the song continues playing around them. “You’re so stubborn that you refuse to even listen to me.”
“Me? Stubborn?” Stiles scoffs. “That’s a joke. I’m no more stubborn than you are.”
“I’m trying to tell you—no, you know what, forget it. I’ll just show you.” Derek pulls Stiles against him and leans down, kissing him rather forcefully. Stiles grips Derek’s shoulders, whimpering softly when he feels Derek’s tongue trace his lips. Derek knows better, and Stiles shoves him away, breathing heavy and shaking from his emotions as he stares Derek down.
“You can’t do that to me,” Stiles hisses, trying to keep his voice down because they’re in the middle of the dance floor. “You promised. You know what I said it means to me.”
“Oh my God.” Derek tugs on his hair and just blinks at Stiles. “I know, Stiles. That’s why I was trying to…what I wanted to tell you…” He makes a rough growling noise. “Damn it, you infuriate me so fucking much!”
“Yeah, well, you’re no prize yourself,” Stiles points out, raising his voice slightly.
“I get it, okay? You’re trying to protect yourself. I’ve been doing it for seven long years, and it’s become a habit now, putting up the shell and pretending that you only have platonic feelings.” Derek rubs the back of his neck. “I should have noticed you acting the same way, but I guess my great detective skills aren’t worth a damn when it comes to my own life.”
“Derek, people are watching,” Stiles murmurs quietly when he realizes they’re causing a scene. “Operation: Chick Flick is in jeopardy.”
“I don’t care, Stiles.” Derek reaches out to take his hand, tugging him closer. “It isn’t unrequited if I feel the same way, is it?”
“Of course you care,” Stiles is saying before the rest of what Derek said actually makes sense to him. He blinks as his mouth falls open slightly. “Wait, what?”
“I just added another five possible ways to murder you to my list, just so you know,” Derek mutters, taking several deep breaths as his ears and upper cheekbones flush a deep red. “I don’t want you to be the best fake boyfriend I’ve ever had, dumbass. I want you to be the best real boyfriend I’ve ever had. I want your dad to see tongue and plan our wedding, and I want to adopt kids or jerk off in a cup or whatever the hell you want to do before I turn forty. I just didn’t know you wanted those things with me, too, until tonight.”
“You can’t just say things like that, asshole,” Stiles tells him, tightening his grip on Derek’s hand. “This isn’t a movie, and you aren’t really Katherine Heigl.”
“I’m glad, since she’s not your type.” Derek’s lips are twitching slightly. “I’m your type, though, aren’t I? The one you’ve fallen for?”
“Fuck you.” Stiles glares at him even as he steps forward. He grips Derek’s thick hair and pulls his head down the couple of inches separating them and kisses him. With tongue. Derek moves his arms around him, holding him close as they kiss. It’s better than Stiles ever thought it would be because it’s real and slightly awkward and too much saliva and too much teeth, but then it’s amazing because they figure it out. They lick into each other’s mouths, holding each other tight, and there’s nothing fake about the look in their eyes when they pull apart from the kiss.
“That’s probably the scariest thing I’ve ever done,” Derek whispers against his lips. “I’m still trembling from being terrified I was wrong and losing the best part of my life, which is you, by the way. Since I seem to have to spell things out bluntly for you to even understand them.”
“Think you’re so cute, don’t you?” Stiles is never going to hear the end of this, but he realizes he doesn’t mind because Derek’s smiling at him like that. “If you’d communicate better, I would have understood, so you need to work on that.”
“Fine. I’ll work on communication, and you can work on comprehension,” Derek agrees before leaning in for another kiss. When he pulls back, he just touches Stiles’ face with a sort of wondrous look on his face like he can’t believe he’s allowed to do that now.
There’s another song playing, one Stiles definitely recognizes, and he has to agree with Elvis about fools falling in love. As Derek deepens the kiss and they slowly dance together, Stiles decides that Operation: Chick Flick is definitely a success, even if they seem to have taken the chick flick thing a little further than he expected with romantic declarations in the middle of the dance floor of the wedding reception. He leans up to rub his cheek against Derek’s scruffy jaw, relieved to see that no one is paying any attention to them. However, he does notice a smug Talia receiving a wad of cash from a perturbed Peter. He’s not sure what that’s about, but anything that makes Peter miserable is good in his book.
“You know, talking about marriage and kids before our first date is moving a little fast,” he teases as he pulls back to look up at Derek. “I think I’m going to need a little wooing before we start planning our wedding.”
“I’ve already done the big dramatic, and totally terrifying, gesture,” Derek points out, smiling slightly as he looks into Stiles’ eyes. “What more do you want?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Stiles arches a brow. “Maybe a love song medley to tell me how you feel? Or a romantic picnic in the park?”
“I’m not singing,” Derek says adamantly. “But a picnic is definitely something I can do, without the tourists videotaping us for YouTube, though.”
“Nah, I think we can do better than our fake courtship story,” Stiles decides, leaning up to kiss Derek again. The kiss becomes rather passionate pretty quickly, and he’s flushed when they break apart. “Reality is much better than made up stories, after all.”
“Yes, it definitely is. Better than I ever dared to hope.” Derek smiles as he strokes Stiles’ back. “Will you do me the honor of going out with me tomorrow night?”
“Let me think about it,” Stiles drawls, grinning up at him when Derek rolls his eyes. “I think I can pencil you in for tomorrow night.”
“Good. I’ll take you out for a romantic dinner, and then we can have dessert at your place,” Derek says with a smug smile. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“I wanted that and a hell of a lot more,” Stiles admits. “I’ve been in love with you for years, Der.”
“It’s been years for me, too.” Derek looks at him seriously. “We’re not very observant, are we?”
Stiles laughs. “No, it seems like we both suck at this detective thing when it comes to our own lives. Good thing we're better at work or we might be unemployed.”
“Yeah, maybe it's easier because the cases aren't really that personal and can't ruin our relationship.” Derek kisses him thoroughly before smiling. “But, hey, it doesn't really matter, does it? We got where we need to be, and it's only going to get better from here.”
"That's true." Stiles smiles as Derek begins to dance with him again. He's totally right. It's only going to get better from here.