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“How bad is it?”
“We’re going to live! Probably. I think. Um.”
“Probably?”
“Well, it was infested with Cornish pixies. Thankfully, the kind that is supposed to bring luck. But you know how it is when we’re dealing with the fae. One moment, you’re laughing along with them, the next, someone’s so pleased with you that you don’t have a dick anymore and they want you to carry their children—”
“Stiles.” Derek frowned at him, and Stiles quieted. He still wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“I think it might be sex pollen?” Stiles scuffed one sneaker in the dirt. They were out in the Preserve, checking out a minor disturbance the Sheriff had mentioned when Stiles had brought him lunch that afternoon. Stiles had been entirely ready to leave it to the police, but Derek had gotten a bee in his bonnet about it, so he’d found himself driving them both out there.
He hadn’t regretted holding the information about exactly where the incident had been until Derek had stumbled into a clearing full of flowers they didn’t recognize. Then the pixies had come out, decided that they were a big enough disturbance to leave, and kicked up all sorts of stuff on the way out. And then Derek had sneezed.
“It’s either sex pollen or luck pollen, and I don’t have a strong feeling that there’s something I need to do, so I’m guessing sex pollen. Which. We should probably stop breathing it in, right?”
“Then you’d have to stop talking, and that’s a lost cause,” Derek muttered, grabbing Stiles’s shoulder and pulling him back towards the path. It wasn’t that far to where the Jeep was parked, it being a significantly better vehicle for offroading it than the Camaro.
“Hey! If I trip and break my leg because you’re rushing me, I’m not explaining this to my dad!”
“So you’d let me tell him that you broke your leg because weren’t getting out of the field of sex pollen fast enough?” But Derek let go, and Stiles stumbled for barely a step before catching up to Derek. Even if he had to basically jog to keep up with his long strides.
“You wouldn’t do that!” Stiles glared, which was surprisingly difficult to do while navigating off the beaten trail. He tripped over a root cluster, and Derek caught him.
“Don’t test me.”
A warmth began to overtake Stiles as another minute passed. He grimaced; the Jeep was barely in sight. Who knew what else could be out there; they definitely needed to get to the Jeep before the pollen fully hit. “Hey, please tell me your werewolfy metabolism is handling the sex pollen?”
“The fae are tricky.” Derek replied, pulling Stiles over a downed tree.
“I’ll take that as a no then.” Stiles voice rose a little with his stress. “Is it one of those things that are like, you gotta have sex or you die? Because I’m not ready to die! But, you know, when I thought about having sex with you, it involved a lot more emotional confessions, and not so many trees. This was not the way I wanted to do the emotional confessions, by the way!”
“We don’t have to have sex. This kind of pollen only messes with our brains a little. It’s only pixies; there weren’t enough of them to make it that dangerous.”
“Great! But if we’re not having sex then I’m definitely jacking off in the front seat, and I need you not to say anything about it.” Stiles shoved his hands into his pockets, and then tripped into a flail because he couldn’t catch himself on the nearest tree. Derek caught him, again, and Stiles couldn’t help a shudder as his body registered Derek’s strength. Yum. But, also, unfortunately off-limits unless Derek asked for it. Yay, trauma.
“And here I thought you wanted to know if you were attractive to men.”
“Teasing! You’re teasing me! I’m not sure whether to be proud or horrified if that’s how you’re coming out to me.”
“I’m not—ugh. If I jack you off, will you stop talking?” Derek grimaced. Stiles stopped bumping into trees long enough to meet his eyes. He seemed a little wolfy around the edges, and fell a little more into that as Stiles kept looking, but he did seem like himself. "Oh, just--"
“Absolutely not! My mouth is one of my best traits, consistently ranked—”
“Fine. If I let you suck me off, will you stop talking?”
That one earned a thoughtful silence. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to have sex with me because we made a stupid mistake,” Stiles said, serious for once. They finally reached the Jeep, and he leaned against it as he tried to get his thoughts in order. His head was swimming, and he was definitely not safe to drive for the moment.
“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.” Derek paused. "I don't need a love confession to have sex with you."
“Yeah, but—”
“Stiles.” Derek gave one of his painfully scarce smiles. It sent Stiles’s heart to thumping so hard that he almost missed what Derek said next. It was barely a mumble, and a little too fast, but Stiles was left nearly speechless. “It’s fine. I—I want to. I wouldn't if I didn't trust you.?”
"Oh. That's, good. Very good. I love you too."
"I know. You already said."
"Just checking to make sure you heard! Neither of us is exactly at our best right now!" Between the joys of being a teenage boy and the pollen, that was about as good as he was going to get. Stiles gave Derek a cheeky grin as he lowered himself to his knees. "Pull away if you want me to stop, okay?" And he got to work.