“How did your pack take it?”

“Hello, Derek. I’m doing well. Thanks for asking. And you?” Stiles shifts his phone to his other shoulder, pushing his cart around old Mr. Jenkins, who he knows will spend at least an hour studying the ingredients list for every box of cereal available then buy the Corn Flakes because he always buys Corn Flakes.

“Sorry.” Derek’s voice does sound apologetic. “Good morning, Stiles. I hope I didn’t wake you up. I’ve been awake since five thirty, but my sisters have informed me many times that normal people sleep later than that if they aren’t having to work, so I waited until after eight to call.”

“Your restraint is admirable.” Stiles snickers. “For the record? Eight is still pretty early for most people. Fortunately for you, I’m a morning person. And a night person. I only sleep a few hours usually, in all honesty.” Nightmares sometimes plague his unconscious, the Nogitsune whispering in his mind, darkness lapping at his dreams. He doesn’t go into that, though, because he’s in the middle of the grocery store.

“You should sleep at least six hours, though eight is the recommended.”

“Thank you, Dr. Derek. And how many hours a night do you sleep?”

“About five. That doesn’t mean that I’m unaware of the fact that I should sleep more.”

“Yeah, yeah. Pot, kettle is all I’ll say. As for your question, they have mixed feelings about it all. It seems that I stink now, or, at least, my scent has changed, so they’re having to adjust to that, and they’re confused about the fact that we have separate packs yet are mated and how all that’s going to work”

“Why are you whispering? Oh, and, yeah, it seems I smell different, too. My pack really likes the scent, though. Isaac, especially, keeps trying to nuzzle my neck. It’s somewhat traumatic.”

“Poor baby. You just didn’t know how good I smell, I guess. Also, I’m whispering because I’m at the grocery store. Sunday morning before ten is an ideal time to buy groceries because it’s usually just me and old people.”

“So you’re off work today or do you work later? What kind of shifts do you work? I need to know for date planning purposes.”

“My schedule can vary at times, but I’ve been at the station for several years now, so I have seniority over some of the staff. With Allison being pregnant with Peanut, we’ve actually been doing day shifts the last few weeks. It’ll probably stay that way unless I pick up an extra or there’s a staffing issue. We’ve got a great closing rate for our cases, too, so working days gives us more time to work with others to help them out.”

“You and Allison are partners? You’ve really close with McCall and his wife,” Derek murmurs, his voice soft in Stiles’ ear.

“Yep. We’ve totally got a poly thing going on, you know? Only it’s like an emotional poly relationship without the romance and sex. That’s the best way I can describe it.” Stiles frowns at the jars of jelly, trying to remember what he’s out of or running low on. “So, if you plan to fall in love with me, you’ll have to love my bro and his wife. What sounds better: strawberry or apricot?”

“Strawberry. Always strawberry if it’s an option. I know what I’m getting into with you, Stiles. Anyway, I have a very close relationship with my sisters, so you’re going to be stuck dealing with Cora and Laura when you fall in love with me.”

“Ooooh. Someone’s confident,” Stiles teases, putting the jar of strawberry jelly in the cart. “What’s your favorite breakfast cereal?”

“Oatmeal.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

“It’s the truth. Dry cereals are usually full of bad shit for your body, so I avoid them.”

“Lies. You’re probably a closet Cocoa Puffs freak or maybe Lucky Charms.”

“They’re magically delicious and also horrible for your body. Those tiny marshmallows are sugary lumps of death.”

“I like Fruit Loops, so deal with it.” Stiles adds a box of Lucky Charms to the cart just because he likes the show of defiance.

“Probably for the convenience factor. Wait until you taste my homemade oatmeal with blueberries and maple. You’ll never want processed cereals again.” Derek is so smug and cocky that it makes Stiles smile as he turns down the next aisle.

“I don’t like blueberries,” he lies, just wanting to fuck with Derek.

“You had fresh ones in your crisper.”

“You snooped through my fridge? Seriously?”

“I cleaned for you, remember? If I happened to take a good look around, that’s just me being proactive.”

“So not fair. Anyway, they might have been for the pack and not me. Ever think about that?”

“Yes, but I noticed they were open like you’d grabbed a handful recently, so I deduced that you, indeed, will think my homemade oatmeal is the closest thing to an orgasm in your mouth that you can get.”

Stiles can’t help it. He laughs out loud because Derek just said orgasm in your mouth with such a prim yet pompous tone that it’s funny. “I’d prefer the real thing, I think. Your come is a lot tastier than oatmeal.”

“Stiles,” Derek growls lightly. “Don’t start something neither of us can finish right now.”

“Fine.” Stiles thrusts out his lower lip to pout as he scans the different cans of soup. He stocks up on Chicken Noodle because it’s a pack fave, and the weather’s starting to get cooler now that they’re transitioning to autumn. “What’s your favorite soup?”

“Homemade beef and vegetable.” Derek sighs. “God, don’t tell me you buy canned soup, too?”

“Yep. Campbell’s is mmm mmm good.” Stiles gets a few more cans for variety then keeps pushing his cart down the aisle. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those health nuts who actually cooks for themselves? I mean, I’m always nagging my dad about healthy diets, but I totally don’t practice what I preach usually. I can cook, but it’s just me, so there’s not usually much point unless it’s a pack night.”

“Yes, I’m one of those health nuts. I run five miles every morning, I make my own food a lot of the time, and I believe in a balanced diet with the occasional indulgence for sweets. I actually really enjoy cooking, though, even if it’s just for me. Which it has been for several years.”

“Oh.” Stiles is reading the back of the jars of spaghetti sauce to see which one doesn’t have any mushrooms snuck into it. Liam and Kira aren’t fond of mushrooms. “Several years, huh? It’s just been me for longer than that, if you were curious.”

“Yeah, I’m curious.” Derek’s voice is quiet. “After Kate, after the fire, I did some stupid shit. Mostly throwing myself into sex with anyone who was willing and getting involved with some people who weren’t the best influence. I was drinking a lot, the stuff laced with wolfsbane, and I wasn’t a very nice person for several years there. Eventually, I drifted into a couple of relationships with people who really only wanted the Hale trust fund or to ingratiate themselves to my mom, so it was rough. Laura staged an intervention finally, and that’s when I went to therapy. I’d actually graduated college with a degree in history, so I took a few classes that I needed in order to teach, and I got my shit together.”

“Now you’re the hot history teacher who all the teenagers crush on, and you’re mated to an obstinate asshole with paranoid tendencies. Man, you must have really fucked up in some past life,” Stiles says, his mind reeling from everything Derek just admitted to him. Derek’s obviously taking this falling in love thing seriously because he’s been extremely open and candid. Stiles likes it, but it makes him feel slightly guilty because he totally isn’t a sharing is caring type of guy when it comes to himself. Not until there’s a good trust level built.

“Yeah. I must have done something horrible,” Derek deadpans. “It’s the only explanation.”

“Smartass.” Stiles grins as he grabs a twelve pack of Coke to add to his cart. “So you must not drink soda, either, huh? Mr. My Body is My Temple.”

“Do we really need to have a discussion about High Fructose Corn Syrup and all of the other many horrible chemicals and ingredients that can damage your health?” Derek clucks his tongue. “Water is the best thing for you, Stiles. Some teas aren’t bad, and there are also benefits to certain wines, but not soda.”

“But it tastes gooood,” he whines, stopping to add a twenty-four pack of water to the cart, too.

“Being healthy and living longer is better than how soda tastes.”

“We just have to agree to disagree. I’m not giving up Fruit Loops and Coke for you, dude.”

Derek groans. “Don’t worry. When I move in, I’ll cook for you. You’re going to see the light, Stiles. You’re going to realize what empty calories you’re ingesting and improve your health. I can’t have my mate getting sick from poor nutritional habits, after all.”

“Good luck.” Stiles chuckles as he starts loading meat into the cart. “I’d say you might want to choose your battles, seeing as we’re likely to disagree about a variety of things.” He’s a little smug at being able to paraphrase Derek’s whole argument about the roof and throw it back at him.

“You’re such a brat.” Derek sounds amused instead of annoyed. “Hey, what’s your favorite meal?”

“Double bacon cheeseburger, curly fries, and a thick chocolate milk shake. That’s my usual order at Ruby’s when I’m not eating with my dad and trying to set a good example.” Stiles doesn’t like the looks of the stew meat, so he buys some extra chicken, instead. “What about you? Oh, wait. I already know. Venison? Baby rabbits? Fresh from the forest.”

“You aren’t funny, Stiles. And it’s actually my great grandmother’s pasta e fagioli.” Derek sounds like he’s smiling. “My great grandfather met her during the first world war, when he was in Italy, and he proposed before he came back to the States. It’s her family’s traditional recipe, and she taught my grandmother, who taught my mother, who taught me. We use homemade pasta, and the version that she brought with her is kind of a mix between a soup and a stew, and it just makes me happy.”

“Sounds good.” Stiles licks his lips and blinks at the vegetables because he’s feeling warm and flushed from the emotion he can hear in Derek’s voice when he speaks about food, of all damn things. “My mom made dumplings when she was alive from a recipe she learned from my grandmother. My dad’s mom, that is. That’s the Polish side of the family. Stilinski. Big shock, huh? My gran didn’t actually write the recipe down, and my mom…well, she lost so many parts of her mind when she became ill that I was never able to get a copy. I haven’t had those dumplings since she got sick, but they used to make me feel that way, happy and comforted. You know?”

“I know.” Derek’s soft understanding voice makes Stiles close his eyes and take a deep breath or four. “What are you buying now?”

Stiles clears the emotion from his throat. “Vegetables. Healthy stuff, so you should approve.”

“I do approve. Carrots and celery are a lot better for you than greasy curly fries.” Derek is teasing, and it makes Stiles’ lips twitch. “Did you already hit the bakery or is that next?”

“It’s next. I like the fresh bread a lot, but it never seems to last long. It always gets hard and stale before I can eat it, which is why I just usually buy a loaf of wheat. Yes, wheat. I should get nutritional points for that.”

“Eh, it’s still not all that great for you depending on the brand and what type of wheat, but I guess you can have a few points.” Derek is breathing hard, which is making it difficult to concentrate on putting fruit and vegetables into bags.

“Uh, Derek, man, what exactly are you doing?” Stiles coughs and shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“Running on my treadmill. I didn’t go outside for a run this morning because it was raining, so I’m getting my miles in now between packing. Why? What did you think I was doing?” Derek suddenly sounds smug. “Stiles, you’d know if I was jerking off to the sound of your voice. I’d be real vocal for you, whining as I fuck my fist and panting as I finger my ass thinking about you lying naked beneath me. And I certainly wouldn’t try to get you hard for me, to work you up so much that you had to hastily unfasten your pants and jerk off, when I know you’re doing your grocery shopping.”

“I fucking hate you,” Stiles breathes into the phone, gripping his cart with both hands as he tries not to think about what Derek just said. “Just for that, I’m buying a cherry pie, a chocolate cake, and ice cream, and I’m going to eat them while you’re on the phone forced to listen to me devour all those yummy sugary calories.”

“Mmm…I love chocolate cake,” Derek groans, deliberately making his tone of voice husky and sexy. “What kind of ice cream? Rich dark chocolate that will make you moan out loud as you let it slip down your throat and lick your spoon to make sure you don’t miss a single drop?”

“No, plain old vanilla,” Stiles mutters, forcing a shaky smile at Mrs. Thompson who walks past with her three troublemaking kids when she waves at him. “Payback’s a bitch, Derek. Just you wait. I’ll get you back for this.”

Derek laughs, the sound doing things to Stiles that not even the dirty suggestive words had done. “I’m looking forward to it. Now, you should finish your shopping, Stiles. I need to start going through my bookshelves, which will probably take me all day, and I’ve got a pack bonding thing tonight, so I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be back at work in the morning, seven till three thirty. Don’t call until tomorrow night.” Stiles licks his lips. “You can text, though, if you want.”

“I want.” Derek clears his throat. “I mean, right. Texting is good. Bye, Stiles.”

“Bye, Derek. Good luck with the books.”

*****************************

The photo is a close up of Allison’s baby bump, her Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department shirt clearly almost too tight. Definitely time to tell Dad to get her a bigger one. Stiles decides it’s perfect and uploads it to his text message to Derek. He types in My godson, Peanut! then hits send. Grinning, he puts the phone down and only then notices Allison staring at him with a creepy smile on her face. “What?”

“You’re sure playing with your phone a lot today.” Allison dimples at him. “Good thing it’s been a slow morning. Otherwise, I’d have to be worried about how distracted you are.”

“Only because it is slow, and we’ve been stuck on traffic duty. You know I hate traffic duty. We should be working the burglary, but noooo. Jordan grabbed it first.” Stiles shrugs. “And put those dimples away. Me playing with my phone doesn’t mean anything.”

“If it was Words with Friends, maybe not, but you’re texting someone.” Allison reaches over to tug on his hair. “A certain handsome werewolf, perhaps?”

“Nah, Scotty’s working, and you know he hates when we bother him at work.” Stiles smirks when she swats his shoulder. His phone vibrates, and he feels conflicted because he wants to see what Derek’s reply is, but he doesn’t want Allison to get the satisfaction of being right. Fuck it. He opens the message and grins. She needs a bigger shirt. Get to it, platonic poly life partner.

“This is the second day in a row that I keep catching you sending texts. I know it’s not the pack because they don’t usually bother of us at work.” Allison leans over the console to try to look at his phone. “Is it Derek?”

“Nosy.” Stiles holds the phone away from her. He can feel a slight flush on his face as she just gives him a knowing smile. “Yeah, it’s Derek. Happy?”

“Are you?” Allison picks up her cup and sucks down some more of her milkshake. “You’re blushing, Stiles. I honestly don’t remember ever seeing you blush, not even when Scott and I caught you sucking Danny’s cock senior year.”

“Pregnancy seems to be messing with your eyesight. I’m totally not blushing.” Stiles glares at her. “Anyway, I don’t blush about sex stuff, you know that. Besides, Danny’s hot, and I didn’t care if you two watched.”

“Shameless.” Allison tsks at him. “And this isn’t sex stuff. It’s texting the hot werewolf who is your destiny. Your soulmate.”

“Don’t you start, too.” Stiles types in a reply to the text. I already planned to tell my dad. So ha! I’m the best platonic poly life partner ever. How’s the packing going?

“Start what, Buffy?” Allison smirks around her straw when he arches a brow at her. “Oh, c’mon. In every generation, there is only one. Slaying. Soulmates. It’s close enough I keep hearing Giles purr in my ear about you being Special.”

“Giles never purred.” Stiles rolls his eyes. “Funny you should mention Buffy, though. Do you know that Derek’s never seen Buffy? I mean, it’s a tragedy. Whedon might be somewhat of a dick and have issues that irritate the snot out of my inner feminist, but those early seasons were awesome, and there are dozens of other episodes worth watching even during the worst seasons.”

“I thought watching Buffy was like some kind of supernatural being requirement,” Allison muses. “How do you even know he hasn’t seen it?”

“We were talking last night, after work, and I was trying to find something to stream on Netflix. He was giving me commentary on all my choices, totally bad commentary because he likes Daredevil better than Jessica Jones and obviously has bad taste, and he admitted to the horror of never seeing an episode of Buffy.” Stiles snorts. “There are so many good things he hasn’t seen.”

“What did you end up watching?” Allison is studying him with her perceptive ‘I’m analyzing crime scene photos and there’s no way I’m missing any clues’, and it’s slightly disconcerting being on this end of that stare.

“This pretty interesting documentary about the Black Plague that Derek suggested, then I forced him to sign up to Amazon Prime and introduced him to the awesome guilty pleasure that is America’s Next Top Model.” Stiles grins “I think he’s hooked because we streamed the first half of season 1, and we ended up debating whether someone with strict ideals that trump their ability to perform a job should even apply for said job knowing their limitations. I totally won the debate, of course.”

“Of course.” Allison is smiling at him. “So you spent all night on the phone with tall, dark, and handsome streaming trashy reality television and chatting?”

“Yeeees,” Stiles says hesitantly, not sure why she’s smiling about it. “He’s a pretty cool guy, for an asshole with questionable taste.”

“You really do like him.” She ruffles his hair. “I mean, I know you’re attracted to him. Hell, who wouldn’t be? He’s smoking hot. But I honestly wasn’t sure if you’d be willing to give him a chance or not, despite you agreeing to the courtship and all. You never really seem interested in having someone of your own, and I worry sometimes about you getting older then regretting putting the pack ahead of yourself and your own needs.”

“It’s been a couple of phone calls, Aly. I think Derek and I can become friends, regardless of the whole mating thing.” Stiles scratches the back of his neck. “As for dating, well, you know my track record. Heather got murdered. One night stand with Jackson during a very drunken evening. Fuck buddy thing senior year with Danny. A handful of first dates that never lead to a second because I’m a jackass who can’t stay still and can’t be honest about the supernatural world with any of them. Casual sex with random people I meet at bars or clubs is at least a release for tension without the judgmental dating bullshit.”

“You’ve got way too much love to give the world to just channel it on the pack. You deserve someone who loves you, who can hold you through the nightmares and be there for all the good times, who will understand about the pack and about the darkness that’s still up here lurking in the shadows,” she says, stroking his hair. “I’m not saying Derek Hale is the one, but I’m also not saying he isn’t. I guess what I’m saying is that I’m happy you’re making a new friend who you’re willing to consider as becoming something more.”

“Your hormones are wacky today, aren’t they?” Stiles rubs his shoulder where she punches him, hard. “What? You’re getting weepy at me over a couple of phone calls with a guy who sucked my dick without even knowing my name. If it hadn’t been for the mating bond happening, we’d have probably gone to my room to fuck a couple of times before dawn, then he’d have done the walk of shame back to wherever he was staying in San Francisco. I’m not even trying to be an ass about this. That’s just the truth.”

“Being an ass is just natural for you. You don’t even have to try.” Allison sucks the last of her shake through the straw. “You’re my best friend who isn’t married to me, don’t tell Lydia, and I just want you to be happy. I’m not equating happiness as being dependent on a relationship, by the way. I just know you, and, even if you like to deny it, I know that you want to be loved and to have someone to love in a non-platonic way.”

Stiles’ phone vibrates, and he stares at Allison for a moment before he looks at the message. It’s a selfie of Derek making a pouting face with a bunch of boxes and stuff piled around him. It’s the first pic of themselves that they’ve sent, and he catches himself staring at it for a little too long to go unnoticed. It’s just…Derek’s hair is mussed, he’s wearing an old t-shirt with Wonder Woman on it that’s so tight it must have been washed a billion times, and a pair of sweat pants that make Stiles think he isn’t wearing anything under the sweatpants.

“Oh nice,” Allison murmurs, her cheek pressing against Stiles’ jaw as she looks at his phone. “He’s not wearing any underwear, is he? That’s…impressive.”

“You have no idea,” Stiles tells her with a slightly wicked smile. “My jaw ached after sucking his dick. His hipbones are sexy as hell, too. I mean, Aly, when did I become some old dude who finds hipbones sexy?”

“When you met your prince at the masquerade ball?” Allison asks sweetly, dimpling when Stiles groans at her. “What? Did you really think Scott wouldn’t tell me about the Cinderella comment? Puh-leeze. He was telling me as soon as I got back with groceries.”

“I hate you both.” Stiles types a message to Derek. Wow. Still a lot to go. Still planning on that date Saturday or should I make other plans?

“No, you don’t. You love us.” Allison nudges him and grins when he looks at her.

“Eh, maybe sometimes.” The phone buzzes, and he looks to see that Derek’s already replied. I’ll be there Saturday, Stiles. Don’t worry. First Date is definitely happening. Stiles scrolls up to save the photo that Derek sent him. If he makes it his phone’s wallpaper, well, no one needs to know.

*****************************

When the image flickers to life, there’s white covering the entire top of the screen, and a trail of hair that disappears into sweatpants visible as the shape moves. Stiles slowly smiles because, hell, he’s not complaining about the view. “Derek, if you wanted Skype sex, you should have just told me so I could already be naked,” he said in a sing song tone that he knows is annoying.

“What?” The white blob disappears and Derek’s face appears. The tops of his ears are red, and he’s blinking at Stiles from behind glasses. Glasses. Holy shit. Hello new kink. I don’t want Skype sex, Stiles. I was trying to fix the power cord.”

“Too bad,” Stiles teases. “It would have been enjoyable watching you strip for me.”

“Maybe this isn’t the best idea,” Derek says, arching a dark brow over the black frames on his face.

“Fuck. Do you wear those when you’re teaching? Do you have like sweater vests and slacks and glasses in your closest that are your professional Mr. Hale clothes?” Stiles licks his lips. “Cause, if so, I think I wanna go back to high school.” He waggles his eyebrows as Derek ducks his head and blushes. Too freaking adorable. How is this the same man who went to his knees so easily and gulped down Stiles’ dick like it was an offering from heaven?

“Shut up, asshole.” Derek looks up at the screen then, smiling slightly as he just stares. “I’ve missed your face,” he admits, snorting after a moment. “God, that sounds ridiculous. I think I prefer texting or phone calls so you can’t see how bad I am at figuring out what to say to you.”

“Hey, I’ve kinda missed your ugly face, too,” Stiles says, lips quirking into a wry smile as Derek blinks at him. Skype can’t quiet capture the beauty of his eyes, the blue-green kaleidoscope of color that caught Stiles’ attention when they first met as strangers, but it’s good seeing him live and in person.

“How was work today?” Derek shifts his laptop and carries it with him to a large bed. “You’re off this weekend?”

“Not the whole weekend. I’m off Friday and Saturday this week, so tomorrow’s my Friday. My shift Sunday is a solo shift since Allison took a vacation day, so I’m working noon to eight-thirty that day.” He grins. “I switched with Jordan so I wouldn’t have to worry about getting up too early Sunday if I end up getting laid after a certain date I’ve got.”

“If you keep talking like that, the only way you’ll be coming after our date is in your fist,” Derek points out. “I’ve finally finished packing up the downstairs, by the way. I still have some stuff in the kitchen that I’ll need until I’m ready to drive down, but, otherwise, it’s pretty much ready. Now I can start upstairs.”

“Still on schedule then?” Stiles asks casually, tapping his fingers on the side of his laptop as he stares at Derek.

“Yes. I’ll be there Saturday even if I have to rely on my pack to finish boxing everything up for me.” Derek smiles. “You’re not getting out of our date, Stiles. I’ve been planning all week.”

“It’s a date. There’s not much planning involved, is there?” Stiles hasn’t actually planned any dates himself. The few he’s gone on since high school were set-ups from friends, so it was meeting someone at a bar or restaurant to do the whole getting to know you thing. Even if there’d been chemistry that led to some casual sex after dinner or drinks, it hadn’t ever been enough to lead to a second date.

“There is for my first date with you,” Derek says simply. “I only get one chance to make a first impression, you know?”

“Wow. Good motivational message there.” Stiles grins. “But my first impression of you was as a snarky asshole who can suck dick like a pro. I’m not seeing a first date changing that pretty awesome first impression.”

Derek groans. “Yeah, well, my first impression of you was a smug asshole who thought he could seriously fight off an alpha of my station. I let you win that night because I wanted your dick in my mouth. Magic or not, I could have easily had you on your knees if I’d wanted.”

“Oh really?” Stiles drawls, licking his lips as he moves his laptop. “I guess we’ll have to have a rematch one day to see about that because I don’t believe you. I’m pretty damn powerful, Derek.”

“Yes, you are, but I’m a born wolf, an alpha with a family lineage that goes back further than we even have recorded history on, and you’d never be able to beat me in a fair fight.” Derek is smirking now, eyes flashing red as he gloats.

“You have no idea what I’ve got lurking inside of me, dude,” Stiles murmurs, feeling his dick twitch when Derek keeps smirking.

“Probably not, but I know what I’d like to get inside of you.” Derek drags his tongue over his bottom lip, ears still red but a heat in his gaze as he stares at Stiles.

“Thought you didn’t want Skype sex.” Stiles laughs, low and, hopefully, sexy. “Am I just that irresistible?”

“I didn’t.” Derek’s grin is sinful. “Things change.”

“Fuck.” Stiles nods. “Totally down for it. You want to tell me what to do, Mr. Hale?”

Derek growls softly. “Why? Have you been a bad boy, Mr. Stilinski?” The fact that he’s still blushing just makes it even hotter, in a way. Stiles is so going to Hell, corrupting such an upstanding young man like Derek Hale, but what a way to go?

“I’ve been naughty, Mr. Hale. I’ve had such dirty thoughts while sitting in class,” Stiles breathes out, fluttering his eyelashes in an appearance of innocence. “Thoughts about you.”

“Take off your shirt, let me see the bite,” Derek murmurs, leaning forward and pulling his white t-shirt over his head. Stiles almost drops his laptop getting his own shirt off, settling back against the pillows and looking at the screen. “Naughty boys have to get punished, Mr. Stilinski. Tell me what kind of thoughts you’ve had, then we can determine the best punishment for you.”

“This is turning you on,” Stiles says with a cheeky smile. “I can see how hard your nipples are, bet your dick is just as hard. You like punishing naughty students, don’t you, Mr. Hale?” He winks before he plays innocent again. “I’ve thought about you pulling me to the head of class and making everyone watch as you strip me, showing me off like I’m nothing more than your toy.”

“Why would I want everyone seeing my toy?” Derek’s screen moves then settles. When Stiles notices his arm move, he realizes he must be touching his dick. “If you’re mine, I’m the only one who gets to see, gets to touch.”

“You asked me about my dirty thoughts, Mr. Hale. Not yours.” Stiles licks his lips as he looks at Derek’s chest and his abs and his face, not even sure what to leer at first. He moves his hand under the laptop, gripping his own hardening dick through his sweats as he teases Derek. “You want to show me off, show them how strong and powerful you are. So you make me lean against the desk so they can stare at my ass, my tight virgin ass, and you spank me while telling the class how much of a dirty little boy I am.”

“Virgin? Really?” Derek groans. “You want me to spank you in front of everyone, Mr. Stilinski? To make them see your hole clenching on air because it’s so desperate to be filled? To make them all see that you’re mine and I own you?”

“Oh yeah,” Stiles whispers, ignoring the virgin comment because, hell, this is a fantasy. He shoves his sweats and underwear down so he can palm his dick. “You use those thick fingers to spread my ass cheeks so you can see my tight hot hole, then you spank me there. It makes my dick hard, and I want to get away, but I don’t even try because I know you won’t let me go. Then, you finger me. You don’t even use spit. Just forcing your finger into my hole dry, making me love it even as it hurts.”

“I’d never do that,” Derek says, blinking out of the fantasy for a moment, and Stiles has to smile because there’s not a chance in hell he’d ever take that big dick in his ass without plenty of lube anyway. “Prep is important, but, do continue, Mr. Stilinski. I’m still trying to determine your punishment.”

“Mr. Hale, isn’t it wrong for me to talk like this to my coach? I’ve seen you watching me in the locker room when you don’t think I know it, but I never realized you’d want to do the nasty things I think about during class.” Stiles rubs his balls with his fingers, squeezing just hard enough to make his breath catch. He can see beads of sweat dripping down Derek’s face, his bicep flexing as he moves his arm, jerking his dick where Stiles can’t see. “I think about you fucking me with your huge dick after I’m loose from your fingers. Holding my hips so hard I bruise then just thrusting completely inside, making me scream while my classmates watch you fuck me. You’d feel so good inside me, Mr. Hale, but it would hurt, wouldn’t it? I’ve never even touched my hole.”

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek whines, eyes flashing red. “I’d take care of you, make sure it didn’t hurt much. You’d feel so good around me, tight and hot, clenching and clinging, not wanting to let my dick go.”

“Tell me more,” Stiles urges, rubbing his thumb over the head of his dick before jerking it as well as he can holding the laptop. He’s pretty damn good at the balancing act, at least. It’s how he gets off watching porn, after all.

“I’d pin you to the desk, making sure you remembered who owns you, and I’d fuck you slowly until you were begging me for more. Then I’d give it to you, deep and hard, feeling your body against mine as I snapped my hips to get even further inside you.” Derek’s nostrils are flaring, his bottom lip swollen from where he’s been biting it, and his abdominal muscles look gorgeous as they clench every time he thrusts up into his hand.

“Derek, are you up here? What the hell, man? We’ve been waiting for ten minutes. Pizza and packing still on, isn’t it?”

“What?” Stiles says, fingers tightening around his dick as he looks at his computer.

“Holy shit! Oh my God. Derek! Put that thing away. Erica, I’m going to kill you!”

“Damn it. Isaac, stop staring. You’ve seen a cock before.” Derek shifts the laptop to the bed, and Stiles hears what sounds like rustling clothes. “How many times do I have to tell you not to just barge into my bedroom when my door is shut? There’s a reason I have soundproofing on my room. That means I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“You could lock the fucking door, you know? Anyway, it’s Erica’s fault! She told me to come up, and she had to have smelled you because, God, you stink of sex, and she’s got the best nose of the three of us.”

“Sorry, pup. I’ve told you to practice improving that sniffer of yours,” a female voice drawls before the laptop bounces slightly. Then it’s moving, and Stiles finds himself looking at the hot blonde from Friday night. “Heya, Batman.”

“How you doing, Catwoman?” Stiles carefully pulls his hand out of his pants, but it’s obvious what he’s doing based on the mischievous smile on those bright red lips.

“Better than you since I actually got off earlier and it smells like you probably didn’t since Derek reeks of sexual tension but not come,” Erica looks up as the laptop is taken away from her.

“Stiles, I’m sorry.” Derek’s ears are bright red, and Stiles has to grin because, dude, it’s just sex. They’re part of werewolf packs, so any possibility for modesty or privacy is pretty much out the window anyway.

“Oh! Is that your mate?” An extremely good-looking guy moves behind Derek and looks at Stiles. “Sorry for interrupting before, uh, completion? It’s all Erica’s fault. I’m Isaac.”

“You have great bone structure, Isaac,” Stiles says. “I’m jealous.”

“Ah, don’t be, Cutie. You’ve got that whole boy next door with a wicked streak thing down perfectly.” Erica leans in from Derek’s other side. “You’re going to be a total MILF.”

“Thanks.” Stiles blinks suddenly. “Wait, what?”

Erica grins. “Well, you’re our new mommy, so that means you’d be a MILF.”

“I’m not anyone’s mommy, thank you very much. Derek, get control of your puppies.” Stiles sticks his tongue out at Erica, who just laughs at him.

“Actually, you would be our mom, since Derek’s a total Dad,” Isaac points out. “He even does the lectures and disappointed looks really well.”

“I’m going to kill you both,” Derek says tightly. He flips the laptop around to show Stiles yet another supermodel leaning against the door frame. The dude waves but doesn’t say anything. “That’s Boyd. He’s my favorite.”

“I think he’s my favorite, too,” Stiles agrees because the guy is quiet and not calling him mom.

“Whatever, Mom. We all know I’m your favorite,” Erica says as she sashays onto camera and goes up to Boyd. She kisses his cheek. “Now, tell Mom goodnight and come feed your hungry kids, Dad.”

“Bye Stiles!” Isaac waves as he walks out after Erica and Boyd.

“You can’t renege on our agreement now that you’ve seen how horrible my pack is, Stiles.” Derek turns the laptop back around and gives Stiles a wry smile. “I think we’re going to have to finish this later. I didn’t realize it was after eight. They’re helping me start on the upstairs tonight in exchange for pizza.”

“I just never want to hear a word about any of my pack after that semi-traumatic experience,” Stiles warns. “A MILF? Seriously? You need to swat her nose and call her a bad puppy for me, alright?”

“No. She’d probably enjoy it.” Derek huffs out a laugh, and Stiles snickers. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, maybe we can Skype again tomorrow night? Say eight-thirty? Only with a locked bedroom door this time.” Stiles shakes his head. “Have fun with the pups.”

“Get some rest. Talk to you tomorrow, Stiles.”

The screen goes black, and Stiles puts his laptop on the bed beside him. He’s still half-hard, so he raises his hips and shoves his sweatpants down. Grabbing the bottle of lube by his bed, he squirts some into his palm and closes his eyes, thinking about Coach Hale pinning him to a desk and fucking him hard. It takes a ridiculously short amount of time before he’s grunting, ropes of come spilling onto his fingers and belly. Tomorrow night, he’ll make sure Derek gets to come, since he’s obviously not getting the chance tonight.

*****************************

Thursday totally sucks ass. Work is hellish. Allison ends up working a missing case with Hardy because it’s a teenage girl and distraught parents, so Hardy is already panicking about having to deal with that. Stiles ends up stuck with a dozen different calls ranging from a suspicious character who turned out to be a dude reading meters to a shoplifter at the jewelry store. He usually doesn’t mind the variety, but every single case needs reports typed, and he ends up having to work late because there’s a five car collision on the highway outside of town twenty minutes before quitting time. No casualties, but it takes hours to clean up, and Stiles is too good at his job to pawn off the boring shit to his co-workers.

On the way home, he stops at Ruby’s for his favorite to go order, and he tries to drive faster so the burger isn’t a total grease pile by the time he gets there. He eats the curly fries in the car because they suck when they get cold, and his shake is gone by the time he pulls Roscoe into his driveway. As soon as he’s inside, he unwraps the burger and grabs a bottle of beer from the fridge. He isn’t a huge fan of most beers, but this is a local kind made from a brewery that opened up a few years ago. Lydia introduced him to it, and he likes the flavor quite a lot. It’ll go well with his burger, too.

While he’s eating, he gets his phone out and checks it again. No new messages. He hasn’t had any all day except for a good morning text from Derek that he’d answered at five this morning. There hadn’t been a reply all day. Yet another reason today sucks ass. Stiles knows it’s stupid to be obsessing over it. Derek’s packing his shit, doing stuff around town to get ready to make a big move, spending time with his extended pack who won’t be making the trip with him, and there are dozens of reasons why he’s too busy to text Stiles today and reply to the, uh, Stiles quickly counts and grimaces, twenty-three messages he sent throughout the day about random shit.

Still, he wonders if something is wrong. Maybe Derek’s pack hates him, and Derek chose them over pursuing whatever with Stiles. When he realizes he’s rubbing at the bite mark that’s still on his neck, he slaps his own hand. “Bad Stiles,” he mutters, focusing on his food and checking the news on his phone. It doesn’t take long to eat the burger, he’s starving after having just a package of peanuts for lunch, and he washes the grease off his hands before picking up his phone again. Fuck it.

He finds Derek’s name and pushes the call button, listening to it ring and ring. Finally, voicemail picks up. “Hey, Der. It’s me, Stiles. Just checking in. Didn’t hear from you all day, so I hope everything’s okay.” Stiles makes a face because how ridiculous does he sound? “Is Skype still on for tonight? I guess I’ll be on so you can grab me if you make it.”

He tosses the phone on the table and drags his fingers through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck as he wonders if he really did sound as stupid as he thinks. Probably worse. “Fucking idiot.” He gets up and takes his phone and beer upstairs with him. It’s nearly eight, so he has time to take a shower before Skyping with Derek. He makes it quick, washing his hair and rinsing off before toweling dry. Not bothering with underwear, he pulls on a comfy pair of sweats and crawls onto his bed. He turns on his computer, sipping his beer as he waits to type in his password. Once he’s logged on, he opens Skype and sees that Derek’s not available.

“Whatever.” Stiles makes a face and minimizes Skype before opening Netflix. It isn’t exactly how he expected to spend tonight, but he’s too tired to go out or socialize, so it’s a good choice to waste the hours until he’s tired enough to sleep. He chooses some terrible looking catastrophe flick about the end of the world and ice storms. He talks to himself as he watches, making fun of it and laughing at how horrible it turns out to be. It’s a typical night for him when there aren’t pack meetings or outings planned with the others, and he never really thought before about it being lonely because, well, he hadn’t really had anything to compare it to so he’d realize how it feels.

Not until this week, when he’d streamed with Derek in his ear, making snark remarks as they watched the same programs, laughing along with him. It’s been nice. Too nice, probably, considering it’s only been a few days, and he’s missing it now that it’s not here. What’s it going to be like if Derek’s living with him? Sharing his space, being around all the time, trying to woo him into loving him and accepting the mating bond, having amazing sex, because Stiles knows the sex between them is going to be off the charts hot, and just generally taking over a part of his life that’s never had anyone there. He rubs his hand down his face and curses under his breath because he really doesn’t want to think about shit like that right now.

He’s had a fucking awful day, he’s pretty exhausted, and he’s missing some guy who was a stranger just last week.

“Stiles, old buddy, you need to stop this shit,” he tells himself, making a face before he checks Skype again. Just in case. It’s after ten now, and nothing, so that means he’s been stood up. Sort of. He’s a little more forceful with his laptop as he types the buttons to turn it off, but he can’t help being frustrated. It’s too early for bed, especially when he’s off the next two days, but he’s exhausted, physically and mentally, so maybe he’ll be able to sleep for a few hours, if nothing else.

After stripping down, he turns off the light and crawls between the sheets naked. His dick doesn’t even twitch at the feel of soft cotton rubbing against it, which tells him just how blah he’s feeling right now. Sleep doesn’t come easy. He tosses and turns, trying to fix his pillows then moving them back and trying again before he finally feels his lids grow too heavy to keep open.

The sound of a slamming car door outside snaps him awake instantly. Stiles takes a second to fully wake up, but then he’s scrambling off the bed and grabbing his trusty old baseball bat before heading downstairs. He’s not about to try using magic when he’s this sleepy because it’s a recipe for disaster, but he knows no one is going to be showing up to his place at ass o’clock in the morning without calling first unless shit’s going down. When he opens the front door, he steps outside and stops mid-step.

“Derek?” He lowers the baseball bat and rubs the heel of his hand against his eyes. “Is this a sex dream? Are you here to clean my pipes?”

Derek walks away from the moving truck he’s gotten out of and smiles, the big crinkly eyed smile. “I’m not that good at plumbing. I could try laying some pipe, though, if you want. Looks like you’re dressed, or not dressed really, for a sex dream, but I think this is real.”

“No, stop it.” Stiles raises the bat at him threateningly. “You don’t get to prance in here with that smile and that swagger and all that,” he motions at Derek’s body, “like everything’s fine because I’m mad at you.”

“Because I didn’t call.” Derek shakes his head and smiles wryly. “I, uh, packed my chargers by accident, and I didn’t even realize my phone was dead until the truck was completely packed up. Since I wanted to make it here tonight, I decided to just drive on through to surprise you. So, um, here I am. Surprise?”

“Surprise?” Stiles drops the bat and walks down the porch steps, slugging Derek’s shoulder hard. “Surprise. I’m pissed off at not hearing a single word all fucking day then getting stood up for our Skype date tonight. How’s that for a surprise?” He reaches over to grip Derek’s thick hair and pulls his head down the couple of inches between them and kisses him hard, tongue and teeth, groaning when Derek’s arms move around him and pick him up.

Stiles wraps his legs around Derek’s waist, deepening the kiss as Derek grips his bare ass cheeks. He licks into Derek’s mouth, wet lips sliding against each other as Derek walks up the stairs and into the house. The sound of the door slamming from where Derek’s kicked it shut is startling, but Stiles just keeps kissing him, licking and stroking with his tongue. And Derek kisses him back, not pulling away except for deep breaths before kissing him again. They somehow make it up the stairs to his room, and he whines low in his throat when Derek’s mouth drifts from his lips down to their bite.

Derek licks the bite, each stroke of his tongue against it making Stiles’ pulse race. They fall together on his bed, rolling around until Stiles is on bottom and Derek’s above him. Oddly enough, despite how intense it all is, Stiles is only half-hard and not really interested in this becoming fucking when he’s still pretty exhausted and mostly just wants to curl up around Derek and sleep. Derek isn’t pushy, either. No grinding or touching Stiles’ junk despite the fact it’s right there. “You really packed up the whole truck and drove down today?”

“Uh huh.” Derek is nuzzling his neck, open mouthed sloppy kisses gliding across his skin. “Moving sucks. Even with werewolf strength, it sucks.”

“My day sucked, too,” Stiles admits, stroking his way under Derek’s shirt to touch bare skin. “Damn exhausted.”

“Thank God. I was starting to think you weren’t turned on by me or something.” Derek raises his head and grins down at him. “Why don’t we just sleep tonight?”

“That sounds almost as good as a sex dream,” Stiles says with a soft laugh. “Get naked and come to bed then. I’m expecting breakfast tomorrow, Mr. Kitchen God. I seem to remember promises about oatmeal that’s better than orgasms.”

“Not better than. Almost as good as,” Derek clarifies as he rolls off the bed and strips. Once he’s naked, he crawls back into bed, curling up around Stiles and pulling him close. “Sweet dreams, Stiles.”

Stiles smiles as he closes his eyes. “Sweet dreams, Derek.”