Or: a seasonal-themed open post. Want to frolic in the spring flowers? Go to a warm, summery beach? Play in the autumn leaves? Have a snowball fight in the middle of winter? Lo and behold, here is the place to do it.
[ For as much as he wants to give him a flat look for being smart, Derek keeps it bitten back for the time being. He could so very easily point out that Stiles wasn't exactly specific about what apparently caught him off guard, but he doesn't, because there's more important things to focus on right now. Like how he can feel the thrum of his pulse against his fingertips, slowly starting to steady into its usual jackrabbit fast rhythm. The touch continues, slow and easy, almost subconsciously as he steadies again. He loves everything about Stiles, but the fact that he trusts him at his most vulnerable points-- his neck; his wrists; every soft, thin stretch of skin he could so easily sink his teeth into until he bled-- is something that weakens him at the knees, could fell him easier than anything.
Waiting for the words to sink in, a soft huff leaves him when it seems that Stiles' bright, amber eyes have found whatever it was that he was looking for, when whatever worries had sunken into him lose hold. Slowly, his fingers loosen around his wrists so that he can slide them up, slotting their palms together, still feeling the rush of blood beneath the skin as he keeps close contact with him. ]
It was going to be a surprise. [ Murmuring, he can't even be annoyed that Stiles ruined said surprise. Not when he looks at him like that, when he can just bow forward a little more and brush the straight line of his nose into the pixie upturn of Stiles', bridge to tip in the smallest of nuzzles. ] I was hoping I could at least finish setting up the study to show you.
[ The moment his hands brush over Stiles', he relaxes a little more, opens his hands fully and twines their fingers together too. It's a perfect fit, where Derek's are broad and Stiles' are long, and his fingers curl over the back of his hand like they belong there, because--if he couldn't use anchor like Derek could, he could sure as hell use home. He feels kind of damn stupid that he thought he was going to leave, actually, and the little chuckle he lets out is half self-deprecating and half actually kind of amused at Derek, who looks a little huffy at first that Stiles was a smartass.
He doesn't really think he'll ever get tired of watching Derek react to things like that--it brings him a great personal joy to rile him up, just because Derek always always does it in return.
[ --and then, in a typical Stiles reaction, he grabs square onto Derek's face and practically shakes him, his voice cracking halfway through the sentence. ]
Dude--holy shit, you bought that for me?! [ Oh, wait, shit. ] I mean--for us?! Dude!
[ Part of him wants to chastise the self-depreciation that he can detect from a mile away, because it's so familiar to him on a personal level, but he's distracted by the feel of longer fingers slipping between his. Derek is content to weave them together, warm and soft but worn, calloused from lacrosse and books and the recent years of handling weapons, tools, digging through the earth and climbing through trees. This is not a life he would wish on anyone, but he's thankful that Stiles has it, now.
It doesn't last too long, though, because suddenly he's tearing his hands away to grab hold of his face. He's not exactly surprised, but he does let out a soft grunt as his face scrunches, dog-like in response. ]
I bought the house for the pack. [ That's definitely him grousing, but it's to try and cover up what eventually escapes him anyways. ]
[ Leaning into Stiles' touch instead of pulling away, he brings his own hands up to overlap their fingers, settling on his elbows to do it without laying his full weight into him. ]
I picked it because it has the study for you. [ Maybe a little hesitance is underneath his tone, but he tries to ignore it because Stiles has practically been living with him for months now, invading his loft and making it feel like home. Moving somewhere else, somewhere bigger that's actually warmer, somewhere that can be a new start, hopefully won't carry the weight of a graveyard, isn't going to change that. ]
And is maybe a lot less drafty and more human-friendly.
[ The little smile on his face explodes across his cheeks and Stiles gives his face another shake, like he can't even get the words out about it--he leans back just a little and raises his eyebrows at him, in a look that means trouble. ]
Sooo, you picked a house that's human friendly, with a big study. For the pack. The pack, which is made up of ninety percent werewolves.
[ But he's just absolutely beaming at him, and Stiles keeps his hands there for a second, thumbing at his cheeks and just shaking his head, because sometimes it blows his mind how fucking huge Derek Hale's heart is. Stiles uses that grip he has and pulls him in for a kiss, closed mouth, but long and enough to make his toes curl in the kind of unbridled joy that comes with the fact that your kinda-sorta-boyfriend-slash-the-guy-you've-been-in-love-with-since-you-were-seventeen buys the two of you a frickin' house. ]
[ There's every attempt to look sour as Stiles pretty much calls him on it, but Derek can't manage it with the way that Stiles is outright beaming up at him. Once upon a time he could glare at Stiles even when he had the biggest grin on his face, but now it just melts his core and keeps him from getting too angry at him when there's so very little tension in the air.
Any that was there, anyways, disappears as he draws him in for a kiss. He goes easily, like it's literally the easiest thing in the world for him to do. It weaves something warm through his ribs, fills in the old spaces that had been made hollow over the years, where pack was gone and he could feel their absence some days like he would if he'd lost a limb.
His hands slide down along Stiles' arms, until he can rest his fingers against his jawline. ]
So I bought you a house. [ At least against the soft bow of Stiles' mouth he can admit it, shoulders drooping as whatever hesitance was in him fades as well. ]
[ Ugh, that just makes a surge of butterflies practically explode out of his chest and Stiles has to grin against his mouth, fingers still curled on his face, dropping the soft kiss for a second until he can bump their foreheads together, like he wants to kiss him more but is literally smiling so freakin' stupidly that he lacks the physical ability to. ]
That's a big step forward, y'know. Most people go for the apartment, first.
[ He's obviously just teasing him though, and Stiles leans in and kisses him again, making an "mmmmmmmm" noise through it until he pulls away enough to give him a look, affectionate and warm and just happy. God. Sometimes, Stiles thinks he's the only one who sees through this, but he knows from the time he's spent in Beacon Hills that that's a lie--that Derek cares for people so much it's practically blinding sometimes, and somehow, someway, he became the center focus of it. And really, Derek is his center focus too, the narrowed down point that usually takes him ages and ages to find until it just clicks and he just-- ]
I love you. [ It comes out before he even really gets to think about it, and he blinks, like he surprised himself, then grins at him again and presses it to his mouth, I love you, I do, because you do stupid things like try to pretend you bought a house for the pack because you're nervous about telling me that you bought it for us. ]
[ His expression immediately begins to mirror Stiles' as the grin breaks out across his face, and Derek can feel the way that his cheeks start to ache a little as it does. While he's been smiling, laughing a lot more in the past two years, this is something else entirely. ]
You've practically lived in the loft for two years now, Stiles.
[ It was just more official in the past one, where they've slept in the same bed with actual intimacy attached. And it's interesting to reflect back on that, though he's drawn away from his thoughts as Stiles kisses him again. The prolonged noise makes his shoulders twitch in a barely restrained laugh, but he rumbles back at him instead, deep in the back of his throat and vibrating down to the pit of his chest. Every bit of it is content, and he feels happier than he has in the past decade. And it's all because of Stiles.
Who could've left him for dead on more than one occasion, who had biting words and sharp barbs when he was angry but supportive touch and soft looks to make up for them, a humor that matched his and a sharp mind that balanced out a big heart. And--
And he completely catches Derek off guard. Stiles is surprised, but Derek matches him easily, looking at him-- well, owlishly is a good way to put it. Even as he presses the words to his lips, narrows the world down even more to just the two of them. It's like his heart bottoms into his stomach before clenching in his throat, a hiccup in his pulse and then he knows he's looking at Stiles like a complete dope, framing his face in his hands and kissing him back. ]
[ Jesus christ, if he wasn't feeling affectionate before, the way Derek flashes that smile at him is enough to make him weak at the knees. Yeah, he kind of has a point, he guesses, but that's really just parsing right now, okay. The point of this entire thing is that Stiles doesn't just kind of love Derek he. Loves. Derek. Period. Exclamation point.
The expressions that pass over his face are a little priceless but he can't even pause to enjoy them. Rather, he just thumbs at his cheek, heart thumping because whether he came to that excellent realization or not there was no guarantee Derek would either--in fact, Stiles wasn't really thinking he'd get an answer at all. And that would have been fine, because it's that the thing they never say but Stiles thinks he hears it sometimes, in "watch your step" or, "get behind me, Stiles, I swear", sees it in the bottle of mocha syrup sitting on the counter just because it's his favorite type of coffee, in the terrified look in Derek's eyes when Stiles threw himself in front of him and took a slice to the chest from the freak-of-the-week that knocked him breathless and bloody until he woke up in a hospital with the same face hovering over his bedside.
And he would have been okay with that, really, but Derek had to go and surprise him again, had to give him that look, and something in Stiles just absolutely melts as he thumbs at his cheek and pretty much returns the favor. Because Derek brought down the moon and put it in his hands, and there were no words that could cover the things that made him feel in return. He presses forward and kisses him again, slides his arms around his shoulders and mutters it one more time, just to savor the taste of it on his tongue, like he could kiss the words off of Derek's mouth. I love you, too. ]
[ If asked, Derek might-- heavy emphasis on might-- admit that he never expected to hear Stiles say it. He knows it's there, undercurrent to all of their dialogues. Their touches, both fleeting and prolonged. They aren't exactly known for being subtle or really restrained when it comes to one another, and the whole pack could vouch for it. Every day they're around each other, he catches it in the laughs that he can startle out of Stiles, the urgency in his hands as he tries to press the life back into him, every stupid risk he takes for him.
And here, in the wide smiles that are all teeth, flush soft over the sweep of his cheeks. Where his heart thrums against his hands but never falters, for what jumps it has like some trapped butterfly beneath his palms. Stiles has lied to others, but it's always been to keep the pack safe, and it's never been to Derek. There's no lie here, now, in the space between them where his heart is clenched so tight he can hardly breathe. He's been in love with Stiles for a while now, but it's only really reached that crippling point now, in the time where he's been putting together a house for him, a place for them to make home.
As he wraps his arms around his shoulders he shifts, slides one hand through his hair and drops the other down to wrap around his middle. They're tangled together, and it's nothing he ever expected when he first met Stiles. Nothing he ever expected when they kept saving one another. Nothing he expected when he tore down the Hale ruins. He kisses him, slow and soft and nothing but warmth, murmuring it back to him like he can just breathe it into him. He means it, more than he's meant anything else. ]
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no subject
Waiting for the words to sink in, a soft huff leaves him when it seems that Stiles' bright, amber eyes have found whatever it was that he was looking for, when whatever worries had sunken into him lose hold. Slowly, his fingers loosen around his wrists so that he can slide them up, slotting their palms together, still feeling the rush of blood beneath the skin as he keeps close contact with him. ]
It was going to be a surprise. [ Murmuring, he can't even be annoyed that Stiles ruined said surprise. Not when he looks at him like that, when he can just bow forward a little more and brush the straight line of his nose into the pixie upturn of Stiles', bridge to tip in the smallest of nuzzles. ] I was hoping I could at least finish setting up the study to show you.
1/3
He doesn't really think he'll ever get tired of watching Derek react to things like that--it brings him a great personal joy to rile him up, just because Derek always always does it in return.
But then-- ] Wait--
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Derek.
no subject
Dude--holy shit, you bought that for me?! [ Oh, wait, shit. ] I mean--for us?! Dude!
[ SHAKES HIS FACE AGAIN ]
1/2
It doesn't last too long, though, because suddenly he's tearing his hands away to grab hold of his face. He's not exactly surprised, but he does let out a soft grunt as his face scrunches, dog-like in response. ]
I bought the house for the pack. [ That's definitely him grousing, but it's to try and cover up what eventually escapes him anyways. ]
no subject
I picked it because it has the study for you. [ Maybe a little hesitance is underneath his tone, but he tries to ignore it because Stiles has practically been living with him for months now, invading his loft and making it feel like home. Moving somewhere else, somewhere bigger that's actually warmer, somewhere that can be a new start, hopefully won't carry the weight of a graveyard, isn't going to change that. ]
And is maybe a lot less drafty and more human-friendly.
no subject
Sooo, you picked a house that's human friendly, with a big study. For the pack. The pack, which is made up of ninety percent werewolves.
[ But he's just absolutely beaming at him, and Stiles keeps his hands there for a second, thumbing at his cheeks and just shaking his head, because sometimes it blows his mind how fucking huge Derek Hale's heart is. Stiles uses that grip he has and pulls him in for a kiss, closed mouth, but long and enough to make his toes curl in the kind of unbridled joy that comes with the fact that your kinda-sorta-boyfriend-slash-the-guy-you've-been-in-love-with-since-you-were-seventeen buys the two of you a frickin' house. ]
no subject
Any that was there, anyways, disappears as he draws him in for a kiss. He goes easily, like it's literally the easiest thing in the world for him to do. It weaves something warm through his ribs, fills in the old spaces that had been made hollow over the years, where pack was gone and he could feel their absence some days like he would if he'd lost a limb.
His hands slide down along Stiles' arms, until he can rest his fingers against his jawline. ]
So I bought you a house. [ At least against the soft bow of Stiles' mouth he can admit it, shoulders drooping as whatever hesitance was in him fades as well. ]
no subject
That's a big step forward, y'know. Most people go for the apartment, first.
[ He's obviously just teasing him though, and Stiles leans in and kisses him again, making an "mmmmmmmm" noise through it until he pulls away enough to give him a look, affectionate and warm and just happy. God. Sometimes, Stiles thinks he's the only one who sees through this, but he knows from the time he's spent in Beacon Hills that that's a lie--that Derek cares for people so much it's practically blinding sometimes, and somehow, someway, he became the center focus of it. And really, Derek is his center focus too, the narrowed down point that usually takes him ages and ages to find until it just clicks and he just-- ]
I love you. [ It comes out before he even really gets to think about it, and he blinks, like he surprised himself, then grins at him again and presses it to his mouth, I love you, I do, because you do stupid things like try to pretend you bought a house for the pack because you're nervous about telling me that you bought it for us. ]
no subject
You've practically lived in the loft for two years now, Stiles.
[ It was just more official in the past one, where they've slept in the same bed with actual intimacy attached. And it's interesting to reflect back on that, though he's drawn away from his thoughts as Stiles kisses him again. The prolonged noise makes his shoulders twitch in a barely restrained laugh, but he rumbles back at him instead, deep in the back of his throat and vibrating down to the pit of his chest. Every bit of it is content, and he feels happier than he has in the past decade. And it's all because of Stiles.
Who could've left him for dead on more than one occasion, who had biting words and sharp barbs when he was angry but supportive touch and soft looks to make up for them, a humor that matched his and a sharp mind that balanced out a big heart. And--
And he completely catches Derek off guard. Stiles is surprised, but Derek matches him easily, looking at him-- well, owlishly is a good way to put it. Even as he presses the words to his lips, narrows the world down even more to just the two of them. It's like his heart bottoms into his stomach before clenching in his throat, a hiccup in his pulse and then he knows he's looking at Stiles like a complete dope, framing his face in his hands and kissing him back. ]
I love you, too.
no subject
The expressions that pass over his face are a little priceless but he can't even pause to enjoy them. Rather, he just thumbs at his cheek, heart thumping because whether he came to that excellent realization or not there was no guarantee Derek would either--in fact, Stiles wasn't really thinking he'd get an answer at all. And that would have been fine, because it's that the thing they never say but Stiles thinks he hears it sometimes, in "watch your step" or, "get behind me, Stiles, I swear", sees it in the bottle of mocha syrup sitting on the counter just because it's his favorite type of coffee, in the terrified look in Derek's eyes when Stiles threw himself in front of him and took a slice to the chest from the freak-of-the-week that knocked him breathless and bloody until he woke up in a hospital with the same face hovering over his bedside.
And he would have been okay with that, really, but Derek had to go and surprise him again, had to give him that look, and something in Stiles just absolutely melts as he thumbs at his cheek and pretty much returns the favor. Because Derek brought down the moon and put it in his hands, and there were no words that could cover the things that made him feel in return. He presses forward and kisses him again, slides his arms around his shoulders and mutters it one more time, just to savor the taste of it on his tongue, like he could kiss the words off of Derek's mouth. I love you, too. ]
no subject
And here, in the wide smiles that are all teeth, flush soft over the sweep of his cheeks. Where his heart thrums against his hands but never falters, for what jumps it has like some trapped butterfly beneath his palms. Stiles has lied to others, but it's always been to keep the pack safe, and it's never been to Derek. There's no lie here, now, in the space between them where his heart is clenched so tight he can hardly breathe. He's been in love with Stiles for a while now, but it's only really reached that crippling point now, in the time where he's been putting together a house for him, a place for them to make home.
As he wraps his arms around his shoulders he shifts, slides one hand through his hair and drops the other down to wrap around his middle. They're tangled together, and it's nothing he ever expected when he first met Stiles. Nothing he ever expected when they kept saving one another. Nothing he expected when he tore down the Hale ruins. He kisses him, slow and soft and nothing but warmth, murmuring it back to him like he can just breathe it into him. He means it, more than he's meant anything else. ]