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Derek waits around the junior high to pick Cora up after school. She walks out of the building, a boy her height talking to her animatedly, his arms swinging excitedly. His hair is buzzed short, cheeks still round with youth, and a red hoodie hangs loose over a plaid shirt.
Cora nods emphatically at all right places, interjecting with a few positive affirmations. She turns her head when she sees Derek and starts walking towards him, the boy following after her, not once pausing to take a breath.
“Cora.”
At the sound of Derek greeting his sister, her friend stops talking and turns to look at Derek with what appears to be awe on his face. His eyes linger on Derek’s leather jacket before they meet Derek’s. They shine brightly with curiosity and interest.
His hand comes darting out in front of him with an eager chirp of, “Hi, I’m Stiles!”
Stiles waits expectantly as Derek simply looks at him with a raised eyebrow. The smile on Stiles grows larger, perfectly content to wait him out. Derek removes his hand from his pocket with a sigh and grips the smaller hand in a tight handshake before releasing it.
Cora reminding them of her presence, turns to Derek and asks if they can give Stiles a ride home. Nodding his head, he turns to walk towards the parked Camaro, Cora and Stiles trailing after him.
An exclamation of amazement at the car has Derek’s lips twitching in amusement. It’s a pretty common response.
“Dude, this is a sweet car.” Stiles runs his hands along the car’s trunk as he walks to the passenger side, stopping to admire it as Cora opens the door and pushes the front seat up to climb in the back.
“Stilinski, you can sit upfront.”
“Cora, you’re the best!” Stiles eagerly hops in the front seat, backpack shoved down at his feet, and Derek resigns himself to sitting next to a chatterbox on the ride to the kid’s house. They pull out of the school parking lot once Derek gets instructions on where to go. As predicted, Stiles asks about three questions for every breath of air he pauses to take.
“So you're Cora’s older brother?”
“Hold old are you?”
“How did you get such a cool car?”
He gives one to two words answers in response. Yes. 17. My parents. Stiles doesn’t seem to mind, carrying on a conversation for the both of them. A quick glance in his rearview mirror shows Cora gazing out of the window, an amused smile on her face. It takes them only fifteen minutes to get to Stiles’s house, but in that time, Derek learns that Stiles is 14 years old, he’s looking forward to trying out for lacrosse next year as a freshman, and he and Cora are working on a history project together for the semester.
That explains their seemingly new acquaintance, as Derek has never heard Cora mention a Stiles before.
Pulling up to the Stilinksi house, Derek notices a police cruiser in the driveway. The stereotypical colors are a sharp contrast to the blue jeep parked next to it. He’s barely parked alongside the curb before Stiles is opening the door, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and yelling a thank you as he runs towards his house.
Derek watches him go with a strange feeling of amusement creeping up in his chest. Cora quickly climbs into the vacant seat and looks at him with a raised eyebrow, a questioning look on her face.
“That’s the most I’ve heard you talk in a while. You talked more to him than you do to me in a day sometimes.”
He reaches out to flick her in the forehead just to irritate her. He ignores her affronted huff and puts the car in drive.
***
The next time he sees Stiles is at their house on a Saturday afternoon. He comes down the stairs around 12 in the afternoon, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he makes his way to the kitchen for some food. Even before he pushes the door to the kitchen open, he can hear a familiar voice talking a mile a minute.
A glance at the kitchen table reveals a mess of paints, construction paper, markers, and crayons. Packs of popsicle sticks, tiny rocks, fake moss, and miniature trees lie packaged, ready to add to the mess as soon as they are opened.
He starts to make himself breakfast, pulling out eggs and milk, and shredded cheese from the fridge for an omelet. Turning to the stove, he stops short of plowing into a body standing right behind him.
“Isn’t it a little late for breakfast?”
“No.” He walks around Stiles to get to the stove, where he whisks together the eggs and the milk before dumping the mixture into a heated pan. Stiles sticks close to his side, eyes trailing down his torso in what he must think is a discrete way. Derek becomes aware of the fact that he didn’t put a shirt on when he came downstairs; he just picked up a pair of sweatpants laying by the bed. A pair of sweatpants that hang very low on his hips.
A light blush rises on Stiles’s face as his gaze travels from Derek’s abs down to the slight happy trail that dusts his lower abdomen. Derek pretends not to notice, casting a glance behind to signal to Cora to come to grab her friend. But Cora is nowhere to be found, having left the kitchen without him noticing.
“So you must work out or something, right? I mean to look like that, you have to.” Stiles blushes harder, rubbing a hand across the nape of his neck. Derek gives a small sigh internally at the thought of being the focus of this boy’s sexual awakening.
Hoping to distract Stiles and maybe save him from further embarrassment lest Cora walk in on Stiles and his sexual awakening at the hands of her older brother, he hands a spatula to Stiles and says, “Here. Keep an eye on this.”
“Uh, I’ve never actually cooked an omelet before!” His voice has a slight edge of panic, but Derek ignores him in favor of going to the fridge and grabbing more eggs and some pre-sliced vegetable mix. He makes another mixture for a second omelet and goes to take the spatula back from Stiles. One side of the omelet is a little overdone, but it’s still edible after he sprinkles shredded cheese over it liberally. Pouring the second mix into the pan after adding more butter, he hands the spatula back to Stiles.
“Let the bottom of the eggs cook a little to where it’s firm. Run the spatula under the edge to unstick it from the pan, then tilt the pan, so the uncooked portion of the eggs runs to the edge.” He watches as Stiles follows his instructions quietly, tongue sticking out as he concentrates on doing it correctly. He hands the chopped pepper and onion mix to him without speaking, watching him sprinkle it on the omelet. “Now fold it in half.”
Reaching over Stiles’s shoulder to grab another plate from the cabinet sets the kid’s face ablaze with another blush as Derek’s chest bumps up against him. Holding back a small smile, Derek hands him the plate and grabs his own. He lets Stiles grab his omelet from the pan before turning the stove off.
“Not bad.” He lets a hand fall on Stiles’s shoulder, patting it before moving off to grab some silverware and heading out of the kitchen. He hears a stuttered thank you, almost too quiet for him to catch. Heading up the stairs back to his room, he finally lets himself smile, amused at the intense reaction he manages to unintentionally elicit from Stiles. It wasn’t the first time a friend of Cora’s had a crush on him, but it was certainly the first friend that was a boy.
***
Stiles becomes a regular fixture in the Hale house. First, the history project brings him over once a week. Then he’s coming over just to hang out, he and Cora having formed a friendship in the many weeks they spent together working. They do everything from playing video games to studying at the kitchen table to exploring the edges of the preserve, going for small little adventures that always result in them coming back dirty, soil streaking across their faces, and leaves strewn through their hair.
Each time Derek passes by Stiles, a light blush works its way across his face, eyes drawn to Derek’s person with a hunger new to him, seemingly not knowing how to satisfy it except to drink in the sight of Derek as much as he can. Cora notices; how can she not when Stiles is so blatant with his infatuation. Hearts practically shone from his eyes. Cora is nice enough not to tease Stiles, ignoring his crush on her older brother like a true friend.
The rest of the family is not so kind. His parents teasing is gentle; they think it’s sweet that such a smart, polite boy finds their surly, monosyllabic son worthy of a first love. Laura ribs at him a little more meanly but always in private. She took a quick liking to Stiles the first time they met; Cora and Stiles having come back from a jaunt in the preserve, a fistful of wildflowers with the roots still attached clutched victoriously in his fists, to find Laura back from college on break. Stiles had given the flowers to her with a shy smile and won her heart with such a sweet gesture.
Peter, on the other hand, has no problem teasing him within full earshot of Stiles. A satisfied smirk crossing his lips anytime he can goad Stiles into a blush or Derek into snapping at him to quit it.
***
The summer comes quickly, bringing with it the end of the school year and an inescapable heat. He finds himself hiking through the preserve with Cora and Stiles one hot afternoon, fighting low-hanging branches, the two of them begging for him to come with them so they can explore further into the woods without their parents worrying about them going too far and getting lost. They make it to one of the small creeks that wind through woods, deep enough that water rises to just below their knees. They set up for lunch along the bank, digging their toes into the sand as they eat sandwiches stuffed full of ham and cheese, layered with mayo, and in Stiles’s case, pickles and mustard, bags of snack-sized chips resting between them as they sip from their water bottles.
The sun is at its highest point by the time they finish eating, the heat sweltering and causing beads of sweat to run down the back of Derek’s neck and into his shirt. Feeling lazy from the heat and full from lunch, Derek pulls his shirt off and lays back on a spread-out towel. He closes his eyes but keeps an ear out for Cora and Stiles, listening to them chatter about trying to catch some crawdads they can see making bubbles in the sand. They walk off in search of a stick to dig into the soil, their voices fading as they walk further away from him.
They come back after a few minutes and set to digging into the sand. After a few unsuccessful attempts at trying to dig a crawdad out of its hole, the sand collapsing in too fast before they grab one, Cora and Stiles decide to go swimming. Sounds of splashing and laughter filter through the air as Cora and Stiles step through the creek, looking for a deeper pool of water to swim in.
Derek must doze off for a while because he finds himself waking to find the sun has shifted position, and more shadows are cast from the trees around the creek, cooling the area off to a more bearable temperature. Not hearing noise from Cora or Stiles, he opens his eyes to cast a glance around to find Stiles laying on a towel next to him. Stomach down and head pillowed in his arms, Stiles’s face is turned towards him, watching him now that he is awake as he must have been watching while he was sleeping.
His eyes, normally a light brown, are a honeyed amber from the dappled light shining through the trees. Small drops of water are still scattered across his skin from the creek. They stare at each for a moment, neither blinking in the still atmosphere, the only noise coming from the bubbling creek.
A drop of water that hangs on the strand of Stiles’s hair drips onto his face, where it rolls down from his forehead, making a track down to his cheek before gravity pulls it towards his lips. Without thinking about it, Derek leans over to kiss the drop off of Stiles’s lips, the touch soft but brief as the droplet breaks in form to spread wetness across Stiles’s bottom lip. Derek quickly moves back to his towel as he hears movement from the woods, Cora coming back toward their little camp. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Stiles lick across the bottom of his lip before he turns his head to pillow face down in the fold of his arms, hiding his face from sight.
***
Derek meets Stiles’s parents at the barbecue his family hosts on the fourth of July. His dad is grilling hotdogs and burgers while John Stilinski stands next to him, drinking a beer. Peter and his mom sit with Claudia on the deck, sipping iced tea as she regales them with her recent trip to Poland to visit her mother. Her arms make grand sweeping motions as she describes the vast mountains and lakes so clear you could see all the way to the bottom.
Derek hides a grin when he realizes that Stiles gets his enthusiastic storytelling from his mother and not his dad, who is relatively reserved compared to his wife. Casting a glance around the backyard, sees Cora chasing their cousins in a game of tag with Stiles’s help. Both of them laugh as they sprint across the yard, arms out as they make to grab at the fleeing children.
He moves to grab a soda from the cooler at his feet and stops when he sees Laura watching him with a small smirk. Derek feels a heat creep up his neck. He hadn’t noticed her standing there watching him.
“What?” He asks defensively, grabbing a random soda and popping it open so he can take a swallow. His mouth is suddenly dry.
“At what point did you actually start liking that twerp?” She sounds amused and probably looks it too, but Derek finds the tab on his drink more interesting, flicking at it with his thumbnail to make a twang sound. “Not that I blame you. I mean, he is pretty cute with those eyes of his that practically shine with stars when he looks at you. Physically speaking, he isn’t bad either. You can tell he’ll be quite the looker when he gets older.”
Derek doesn’t respond to her prodding, not even to deny her claim that he liked Stiles. He instead watches as Stiles takes a pause in chasing the kids, stripping off his plaid shirt, so he is left in a simple white t-shirt. He’s out of breathing, panting and waving the kids off who pull at him to keep playing. Stiles gives them a smile and promises to come back after he’s had a breather.
“You should tell him you like him back,” Laure whispers to him before she ducks away, heading to join their parents on the deck, leaving him alone as Stiles walks over in their direction.
Stiles gives Derek a bright smile when he sees him standing with the drinks and offers him a shy, “Hey, Derek.”
“Stiles.” He stops flicking at the tab.
“You on a self-imposed drink duty tonight? Or are you just too cool to join the rest of us running around like dorks?” Stiles picks up a soda, dripping with condensation from the ice and the humidity. He doesn’t open it right away, instead of putting it against the side of his neck and letting out little ahh’s of contempt as it cools him down.
“Most definitely too cool.” Lame. So lame. He feels like smacking himself in the face. It still earns him a laugh from Stiles. He lets himself smile back.
“You uh…you have something in your hair.” Stiles reaches up to brush at something in his hair. It brings him a step closer to Derek, his fingers cold and slightly wet against Derek’s temple when he goes to brush a white puffball loose, the wind picking it up and floating it away. “You should make a wish. That’s what my mom tells me to do anyway.”
The air feels heavier than it did before like it carries more than just the heat and humidity of the day. The daylight is slowly fading away, and the lights his parents strung up between the trees light up, throwing shadows across the yard. He notices the light sheen of sweat on Stiles’s skin, the pink, slightly chapped lips that are licked over briefly. He has the sudden urge to kiss Stiles again, and the look on Stiles’s face as his eyes flick down and back up to Derek’s eyes suggests he wouldn’t mind that.
But there are too many people around, his cousins shrieking nearby as Cora lights small firecrackers and fountains for them to enjoy, his dad calling for people to come and get their burgers and hotdogs.
He takes a step back, noting the disappointed look in Stiles’s eyes. “We should grab some food.”
Stiles nods, giving a half-smile. “Yeah, right behind you.”
***
Once everyone has eaten, and the sun dipped down beneath the horizon, they get out the fireworks. The younger kids are given sparklers and set loose to run around chasing each other and writing their names in the air while the adults set up some bigger rockets and missiles a distance away.
When everything is ready, they all gather in a small crowd as John and his dad light the fireworks and run back a few yards to safety. The dark evening sky becomes alight with the flash of colorful lights raining down with bangs and pops. Derek watches the light show from the back, a little way from everyone else. His attention is drawn from the sky when he notices Stiles separate himself from his parents, ducking around people to walk towards the tree Derek is leaning against.
“Can you see anything all the way back here?”
Nodding his head but realizing it’s too dark to see it, he says, “I can see enough.” The tree branches aren’t so dense or that far out that they block his sight of the fireworks. “Stand here; you won’t have to crane your head back as much.”
Stiles moves closer to Derek, both of them watching as firework after firework gets set off, each more grand and colorful than the last.
Stiles’s arm brushes against his; one or both of them have gravitated to the other. He turns to look at Stiles, watching the warm light of the fireworks play against his skin before they fade out and leave his face bathed in the cold light of the moon. This time when the urge to kiss Stiles rushes up, he doesn’t resist it, grabbing Stiles by the arm and dragging him around the back of the tree where they’re hidden from sight.
He pushes Stiles back so he’s braced against the trunk of the tree, and before he can chicken out, he dips his head down to kiss Stiles like he’s been wanting to for the last month. It’s clear Stiles hasn’t had much practice kissing by the clumsy way he moves his lips against Derek’s, pushing a little too firmly at first. He learns quickly, though, copying Derek by turning his head a little more to the side, so their lips line up better, slowing down in his movements and pressing his lips against Derek’s more gently and sighing out as the kiss turns from uncoordinated to something sweet and pleasurable.
They kiss for seconds or minutes, lost in a haze of physical touch and warmth as Derek presses into Stiles just as Stiles pulls him closer, one hand buried in Derek’s hair and the other clenched in his shirt. He gasps as Derek runs his tongue over the bottom of his lip before sliding it into his mouth. They kiss long and hard for several movements, messy and wet but good despite the newness and unfamiliarity they have with each other. The enthusiasm and excitement they feel more than make up for the lack of skill.
Derek basks in the breathy little sighs and moans Stiles releases between kisses, the sounds thankfully blanketed out from anyone else with the noise of the fireworks. He can feel the grip on his shirt loosening as Stiles lets his hand fall to Derek’s waist. It stays there for a brief moment before it sneaks under Derek’s t-shirt, where it palms across his abs.
He draws back to laugh at the ticklish fingers dancing across his skin. Stiles has his head leaning back against the tree, a happy smile lingering on his lips. Derek looks back at him, warmth flooding his chest.
“So you like me back.”
“Yeah, I like you back.”
***