Work Text:
Derek spends more time than he would like to admit thinking about the Sheriff’s son. Part of it he wants to blame on worry but it’s more frustration. Stiles is annoying. Loud. Hardheaded. And unfortunately for Derek, he is stupidly brave. Derek tried everything. He yelled at him. He threw his head into a steering wheel. He threw him into a wall. A few times. But Derek knows a few things now:
- He isn’t getting rid of Stiles.
- He doesn’t want to.
Stiles takes hits like he was born to be a wolf, and Derek understands why his Uncle wanted Stiles so badly. Derek finds ample opportunity to shove Stiles up against something– the jeep, the wall, the door to some closet, the hood of the camaro, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the look on Stiles face before he refocused– the split second where Stiles looks like he’s in ecstasy before pointing a glare at Derek. It didn’t matter how much Stiles bucked up or bitched at him afterwards. Derek knew.
The looks weren’t enough anymore. And Derek no longer cared. Stiles kept coming around, so Derek kept pushing him around. Derek was just lucky he had managed to turn such a self absorbed pack. Nobody noticed the way the pushes and shoves became subtle grabs and millisecond groping. If Derek’s hand slid underneath Stiles' shirt to push against the hidden strength of his stomach, or if he pulled him back close by the front of his belt, they never even twitched their nose at it.
Stiles doesn’t make it any easier, unfortunately. He might as well be fucking gagging for it. Too many pack nights start with Derek trying to explain more about whatever monster of the week they’re fighting only for Stiles to start spouting off his know-it-all bullshit, begging for a fight. Who is Derek to deny Stiles the fight he’s looking for? Derek will argue back and immediately the pack will find other things to entertain themselves. They’ve seen this song and dance plenty of times, so no one cares when they start pushing back and forth, when Stiles ends up slammed into the brick wall of the loft and Derek’s hand is pressed against his chest holding him there. Derek barely has to turn for his bulk to cover Stiles and his hand slides from his chest all the way down to squeeze Stiles' length through his jeans.
Stiles just bites down onto his own lip hard to avoid making a noise, and then they just stare at each other.
Waiting for one of them to make a move.