Work Text:
When his dad finds the dead squirrel on the porch, Stiles still doesn’t know what to make of it. Considering there’s also a paper heart from an old Valentine’s day underneath it. “Kids today, huh.”
“You are one of the kids today, Stiles.” His dad is gingerly picking it up, using a gardening glove. He throws it into the dumpster. “I hope it’s nothing to do with Derek Hale.”
“What? What? Why would you say that?” Stiles knows his dad can’t hear the sudden thud of his heart nor see the way his palms sweat. Maybe his dad can read the panic in his eyes.
“Because I keep seeing you and him and your names are being linked around town more than my self-imposed blinkers would really like.” His dad runs his hands through his hair. “We can talk about this after work.”
“Uh-huh.” That reminds Stiles he has work. He’s supposed to be reporting for shelving duty in twenty minutes and he needs to get a move on. Library work is nowhere near as dull or as weedy as he’d supposed when he signed up for the summer job.
There’s another dead squirrel on the hood of his car. He just scrapes that one off with an old essay and prays it hasn’t ruined the paintwork.
No dead animals at work makes it successful. The enormous pile of books that need put away and then tidied and dusted and relabelled and yeah, boring, make him wish he was allowed to wear his headphones. Instead he works in the oppressive silence of the stacks and smiles vaguely in the hope of conversation at anyone who comes around the corner.
“It was the full moon last night.” Derek, of course, can sneak up on him as ever.
“I know. That’s why you weren’t sneaking in my window. I think my dad knows.” Stiles whispered the words out, desperately hoping that now would not be the time Mrs Arkin crept around the stacks to find him.
“Knows about the…” Derek’s voice is too low. As in, it will carry. So Stiles slaps a hand across his mouth.
“Not about the window. If he knew that, there would have been shotguns. Or maybe he does. Maybe the whole thing at breakfast was about him knowing you sneak through my window practically every night and we molest each other quite consensually and that’s why I have to wash my sheets all the time and-“ Derek’s palm is warm and surprisingly soft. Stiles licks it. Ingrained instinct. It tastes kinda nice.
Derek glares at him.
And the glaring is where all the trouble started way back. Stiles grins under Derek’s hand. He can feel his dick fattening up just the slightest and he knows that he’s always wanted to have sex in a library and maybe this would be a good time and Derek’s nostrils flare which suggests he also knows how much Stiles would like to have sex in a library. Right now. He pulls Stiles’ hand away.
“I wolfed out last night. I didn’t kill anyone. I might have acted…” Derek looks down, avoiding Stiles’ eyes.
“Oh my god.” Stiles’ words are still muffled by the broad hand covering his mouth. That is a good thing, here, since he was pretty much shouting the words. The icky gross dead baby animals really were Derek’s fault. “What was with the hearts?”
Derek looks definitely uncomfortable. Supremely. It strikes Stiles as kinda awesome and does absolutely nothing to dispel Stiles’ urge to jump him and see just how strong the stacks actually are.
“It was a wolf thing.” Stiles looks around. He’s almost done with this pile of books and it’s nowhere near his break time but Mrs Arkin is snoozing at the desk and he suddenly has the best idea ever. He pulls Derek by the t-shirt into the tiny staffroom. Derek is accustomed enough to go with him and sits in one of the low battered chairs while Stiles shuts the door.
“What kind of a wolf thing?” There’s another chair but that’s Mrs Arkin’s and Stiles’ boyfriend showed up at his work and that definitely requires some closeness and maybe a little making out. So Stiles straddles Derek and ignores the creaking as he sits in his lap. Derek’s hands seem to automatically find his hips, fingertips brushing lower almost involuntarily. It’s awesome.
“A… So…” Derek’s mouth opens and closes and Stiles normally only gets that reaction after a blowjob so it really is a big deal. “You don’t have to read anything into it. But.”
“Yes.” Stiless wriggles a little. Derek automatically spreads his thighs a little and they are perfectly comfortable now. So comfortable he can see Derek’s eyes darkening as they look at his mouth. “Go on.”
“It was a proposal. To a mate. To show I can provide.” Derek’s mouth slams shut and he looks miserably into Stiles’ eyes.
Stiles shakes his head, processing and making sure he didn’t mishear. “You proposed to me with dead squirrels?”
“My wolf…” Derek slumps in the chair under Stiles. “Yes.”
“I was hoping for candlelight and, I don’t know, maybe a ring. Or an expensive watch. Dinner. Maybe a sunset.” Stiles couldn’t help but tease. Derek processes what he was saying, his passive and rather fixed expression flickering through worry to disbelief to something akin to hope. At least to Stiles’ trained eyes. It was all in tiny movements of eyebrow and tilt of the lips. Those very kissable lips.
Every time Stiles kisses Derek, he has to take a moment to remember that, yes, this is actually real. Then the overwhelming urge to never stop tends to take over. But he had a moment of reality checking all the same as Derek slid one hand up over his back to urge him forward. Derek wanted him. Derek wasn’t just having a good time or enjoying the blow jobs. Derek was serious and possessive and ready to commit to Stiles (even if it was his wolfy side that had worked that out first).
When they – sadly – pull away from each other, instead of revealing all this, Stiles, being Stiles, merely says, “Guess I really will have to officially introduce you to my dad.”
Derek doesn’t say no.