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Summary
Where Derek's skills at thinking on his feet mean that he and Stiles have to act. For the sake of Stiles' dad, of course, for the sake of the pack. No personal interest interference at all, whatsoever. Right.
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“Why does my dad say that you and your boyfriend are a bad influence on me?”
“What?”
“Yeah, what boyfriend? Dude, you are not allowed to not tell me crap like this. You didn't think I'd like be a douchebag or something. Right?”
“No, wait, what? I have no boyfriend.”
“He says you were with him at the police station.”
Stiles blinks. “Uhm. Oh shit.”
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Summary
Stiles had imagined his first time many different ways, but never like this.
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Stiles left Beacon Hills years ago. After seven years of nothing, the Hale-McCall Pack is asked to help another pack rescue two captives from a group of hunters not far from their territory.
What they find is Stiles.
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Derek first sees him from across the quad four days into fall semester. He’s sitting on one of the long benches, a marker pen in his mouth, grinning at something the kid lounging on the bench beside him is saying. When he laughs properly he pulls the pen out and throws his head back, his neck a long, lean line Derek is entranced by. He flicks the page in his book and highlights something, tossing the cap up in the air and catching it with his teeth.
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It’s not that the idea of Stiles talking about him doesn’t make his stomach wrap itself in knots, it’s that it does just that. It makes him unbelievably uncomfortable and he doesn’t quite know why. He’s twenty seven years old, he pays taxes, he takes his mother out for lunch on Sundays; he is a grown up. But he’s getting weird butterflies when he glances over his shoulder to look at Stiles and a heat in his chest that feels something like what he supposes want must feel like.