[ that... is definitely not how the line goes. han solo is too arrogant and cocky to do anything like telling leia how he really feels about her - but stiles doesn't give a single fuck that derek gets this line wrong. derek is so much better than han solo anyway. if you put han and derek next to each other and told stiles he could spend the rest of his life with only one of them, he'd pick derek, no questions asked. he'd pick derek every single time.
so it's okay, that derek tells him he loves him instead, that he loves stiles' laugh and his smile and the dumb ring he had made for him from a piece of a leaf blower's engine. they can quote and misquote star wars at each other another time, but right now stiles is just so, so incredibly intent to just be close to derek, to have these quieter moments where stiles feels reassured and protected and loved more than he honestly deserves to be loved.
stiles' eyes water, too. derek presses a kiss to the top of his head and stiles presses his face against the space where the two sides of derek's rib cage join together in the middle, moving both of his arms so he can drape them loosely around his waist, fingers splayed against his back. he's... slightly emotional and horny as fuck but he doesn't feel - frantic or desperate about it. stiles just wants to feel close, as close as he possibly can, as connected to derek as physically possible. he doesn't even really care if derek turns him down, if he says he'd rather fuck stiles instead - just as long as they're connected, that's all that really matters to him.
but derek doesn't turn him down. derek says he wants it too, and it's only then that stiles' sleep-slow brain catches up to him and he realizes what he's just asked for. it helps that it registers after the fact, so he has less time to be anxious about being let down easy if derek wants something different - but he doesn't. stiles' heart still trips up a little anyway, on a slight delay.
he wants to kiss him again wherever he can reach him, but derek pulls away to sit back. stiles' fingers push lazy little circles into the muscle at the bottom of his spine, head tilted back just slightly so he can look derek in the face. he breathes deep as derek trails his hand down his front, breathes a heavy sigh as he closes his hand around him again, strokes him lazily.
and then derek says but, and it's fine, but it still makes stiles pause for a second. he has no idea what's coming, isn't really collected enough to even begin to guess what the stipulation is here, and he's both nervous and not. he wets his bottom lip, eyebrows shifting slightly to show that he's paying attention, even if it's a little difficult to do with derek's hand on his dick.
the little pull at his shirt isn't even enough for him to be able to put together what derek is about to ask for, so he's left looking a little thrown and a little dumb and a little bit lost when derek finally makes his request. he... wants him to take his shirt off. stiles has only had his shirt off in front of derek a handful of times, and most of those times it's been quick and practiced, changing out of one shirt and into another the same way he would do in the locker room at school just to get it over with. there was the full moon, too, but both of them had been a little overwhelmed, derek by the moon and stiles by derek.
this feels different from that. it is different from that, and stiles feels nervous - but not nearly as much as he thought he would. he stares up at derek for a few long moments, eyes shifting minutely. his lips part. he opens his mouth, struggles for a moment to say anything at all, so he just nods instead, small and subtle - and sure. the fact that it's a choice, that derek makes sure he knows he doesn't have to if he doesn't want to, makes it that much easier to oblige.
stiles sits up and leans forward, brushing another kiss against derek's chest like he somehow steels some confidence in doing so. he lingers for a moment, then tilts back, letting his hands slide off of derek so he can grab at the bottom of his own shirt. stiles only hesitates for a moment, and then he pulls his shirt up.
and he get stuck. only for a second, his elbows stretching the material awkwardly and trapping one of his arms, but it's long enough for him to get super embarrassed about it because he can't even take his shirt off without being a mess, so by the time he frees himself and sets his shirt down off to the side, his cheeks and his throat are red and kid of blotchy and he won't look any higher than derek's chest. he tries to move on quickly, to distract from - himself, really, by curling his fingers into the elastic of derek's waistband and giving it a little tug, like, off, please. ]
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so it's okay, that derek tells him he loves him instead, that he loves stiles' laugh and his smile and the dumb ring he had made for him from a piece of a leaf blower's engine. they can quote and misquote star wars at each other another time, but right now stiles is just so, so incredibly intent to just be close to derek, to have these quieter moments where stiles feels reassured and protected and loved more than he honestly deserves to be loved.
stiles' eyes water, too. derek presses a kiss to the top of his head and stiles presses his face against the space where the two sides of derek's rib cage join together in the middle, moving both of his arms so he can drape them loosely around his waist, fingers splayed against his back. he's... slightly emotional and horny as fuck but he doesn't feel - frantic or desperate about it. stiles just wants to feel close, as close as he possibly can, as connected to derek as physically possible. he doesn't even really care if derek turns him down, if he says he'd rather fuck stiles instead - just as long as they're connected, that's all that really matters to him.
but derek doesn't turn him down. derek says he wants it too, and it's only then that stiles' sleep-slow brain catches up to him and he realizes what he's just asked for. it helps that it registers after the fact, so he has less time to be anxious about being let down easy if derek wants something different - but he doesn't. stiles' heart still trips up a little anyway, on a slight delay.
he wants to kiss him again wherever he can reach him, but derek pulls away to sit back. stiles' fingers push lazy little circles into the muscle at the bottom of his spine, head tilted back just slightly so he can look derek in the face. he breathes deep as derek trails his hand down his front, breathes a heavy sigh as he closes his hand around him again, strokes him lazily.
and then derek says but, and it's fine, but it still makes stiles pause for a second. he has no idea what's coming, isn't really collected enough to even begin to guess what the stipulation is here, and he's both nervous and not. he wets his bottom lip, eyebrows shifting slightly to show that he's paying attention, even if it's a little difficult to do with derek's hand on his dick.
the little pull at his shirt isn't even enough for him to be able to put together what derek is about to ask for, so he's left looking a little thrown and a little dumb and a little bit lost when derek finally makes his request. he... wants him to take his shirt off. stiles has only had his shirt off in front of derek a handful of times, and most of those times it's been quick and practiced, changing out of one shirt and into another the same way he would do in the locker room at school just to get it over with. there was the full moon, too, but both of them had been a little overwhelmed, derek by the moon and stiles by derek.
this feels different from that. it is different from that, and stiles feels nervous - but not nearly as much as he thought he would. he stares up at derek for a few long moments, eyes shifting minutely. his lips part. he opens his mouth, struggles for a moment to say anything at all, so he just nods instead, small and subtle - and sure. the fact that it's a choice, that derek makes sure he knows he doesn't have to if he doesn't want to, makes it that much easier to oblige.
stiles sits up and leans forward, brushing another kiss against derek's chest like he somehow steels some confidence in doing so. he lingers for a moment, then tilts back, letting his hands slide off of derek so he can grab at the bottom of his own shirt. stiles only hesitates for a moment, and then he pulls his shirt up.
and he get stuck. only for a second, his elbows stretching the material awkwardly and trapping one of his arms, but it's long enough for him to get super embarrassed about it because he can't even take his shirt off without being a mess, so by the time he frees himself and sets his shirt down off to the side, his cheeks and his throat are red and kid of blotchy and he won't look any higher than derek's chest. he tries to move on quickly, to distract from - himself, really, by curling his fingers into the elastic of derek's waistband and giving it a little tug, like, off, please. ]