[ it's so, so hard not to break character and just-- laugh, right in stiles' face, as he watches him struggle to process derek's cardinal fucking sin of acting like a Basic Star Wars Bitch. he doesn't, of course - makes it through, just like he makes it through stiles' eye-covering laugh and good-natured ribbing without just fucking kissing him again and again and again, even while his heart flutters in his chest like he's seeing stiles smile for him for the first time all over again. resisting that urge might be the hardest thing he's ever done.

stiles sets him up, giving him an i love you, and while derek looks down at him, full of love and admiration, looking at stiles like he hung the moon and the stars in the sky, all for him, he.... well, he fucks up. stiles says he loves him and derek just trips over the i know, hitting a dam in his brain that just doesn't want to break. stiles loves him. stiles loves him? sometimes it hits him, and this is one of those moments, that stiles fucking loves him. derek can't bring himself to han solo this. ]

I love you, too. I love the way you smile. I love your laugh. I love how you're always there for me. I love this fucking ring. I love... I love you, Stiles.

[ ... baaaabe, he almost adds, before immediately losing his nerve. he thinks misquoting star wars twice in one minute might give stiles a fucking hernia, and adding an awkward, clumsy pet name to the mix wouldn't be doing him any favours.

but it's fine. everything's fine. everything's fucking great, actually, and his life wouldn't be a tenth as great as it is right now if he didn't have stiles here with him, warm and sleepy and-- happy, hopefully, at least half as happy as derek is. stiles kisses his rib cage and it's so close to his heart that derek feels stupid, sentimental, unnecessary tears hurting the back of his eyes, and he has to swallow and collect himself and bend down, kissing the very top of stiles' head in return.

stiles wants to fuck him. christ, derek wants nothing more. ]

I... really, really want you to fuck me.

[ derek leans back against stiles' thigh, pulling away from the kiss, as much as he loved it. his hand traces a line down stiles shirt, over the firm beat of his heart to his lightly-toned-but-mostly-not stomach, and even further down to his cock. derek takes him in hand again, stroking him slowly, slower than before. just keeping him hard. ]

But... uh.

[ he wets his lips, and - he brings his other hand back to stiles' stomach, his right hand, the one without the ring. he curls his fist in the fabric and gives a tentative, almost apologetic tug, and then looks closer at stiles in the darkness. ]

Can you... take this off? You don't have to. I just - like seeing you.