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“Whoa, what happened to your chest?” Scott asks him.
Derek turns to glare at Stiles, who shrugs and smiles sheepishly. ‘What didn’t happen to my chest?’ he thinks as he remembers what happened a few days ago...
-
“Baby,” Stiles croons from the entrance of the adjoining bathroom.
“Babe,” he repeats when there is no answer.
Derek puts the book he was reading - and using as an excuse to ignore Stiles – down. “Why are you calling me that? Don’t.”
“Aww, c’mon, don’t be like that! We can be boyfriends but I can’t call you lovey-dovey names? That’s harsh,” he pouts in exaggeration.
Derek raises an eyebrow. He knows that look, like he knows the endearments that came out of him aren't as well-intended as an outside observer might think. Stiles was going to ask him for something and he wasn’t going to like it.
“Okay, fine, Der-ek,” he mocks. “Since we’re going to be spending a week at the beach, in swim shorts and all, I was wondering if you’d let me wax your chest. Since, you know, it's what couples do.”
He frowns, "You want to wax my chest?"
“Well, you’re going to do it anyway, right? So let me do it for you.” Stiles says with an eager expression.
Too eager, if you ask Derek.
Except he can't refuse, not if he wants to avoid another lecture about how he should be more open to try new things now that they are together. It's not that Derek doesn't want to do couply things; he just has issues that are hard to shake sometimes. So that's why he complies, since he would rather save his no's for something more important than this.
"Okay," he sighs and follows Stiles' into the bathroom when he crooks his finger.
"What's that?" he asks when he sees the container in Stiles' hand.
"Oh, just some sugaring wax I made. I found the recipe online," he explains, waving it around. "It's better than that Nair stuff you use."
"If you say so." Derek is certain this is a bad idea, but he still takes his shirt off even when the stench of the hair removal product hits his nose. It smells nauseating and he's too worried to know what's inside it. He should probably put an end to this before it begins.
It's too late, though.
Stiles uses a spatula to apply a generous amount of the pre-heated, sticky substance on his chest and just...leaves it there. He doesn't use a strip to remove it along with the hair it's currently attached to. No, he just stands there, observing with twinkling eyes. So Derek is not at all surprised when he feels the wax burning, scorching, his skin. That doesn't stop him from panicking though.
"Stiles, what did you do? Damn, it burns. Get it off!" He tries to scrape some of it off with his fingers, since he can't find anything else to use. The familiar way his skin reacts to it, in addition to its unpleasant odor, makes him finally understand.
"You...you put wolfsbane in this."
"Oops"
-
Derek doesn't tell Scott that he now lives a furry-chested lifestyle because his best friend (a.k.a. Derek's ''boyfriend'') had the illogical idea to mix a plant known to be poisonous to werewolves with sugaring paste in order to deter Derek from waxing, for life. Well, despite how awful (and painful) that plan was, it seems to have worked.
Stiles still hasn't explicitly admitted to it (he insists it was an accident) but Derek sees the way he looks at his chest now.
He does tell Scott the moral of this story though:never let your significant other help with hair removal.