kyrene_writes: (TW: pedobait stiles)
[personal profile] kyrene_writes
Title: Life in the Stilinski-Hale Household: Part Five
Author: [personal profile] kyrenekyorl
Pairings/Characters: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski, Talia Hale
Rating: R
Word Count: 6,103 (this part)
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: underage
Summary: Derek is seventeen, Stiles is thirteen, they're stepbrothers, things happen....


"Life in the Stilinski-Hale Household"
Part Five

by kyrene


"Derek," Stiles whispered, tapping at his stepbrother's door as quietly as he could. Their parents were downstairs watching tee vee pretty loudly, but he didn't want either of them finding out what he was doing.

What he was doing, was standing like a dork in front of Derek's door with a bowl of chocolate cake and rapidly melting ice cream in his hand, feeling more and more like an idiot. This was probably a mistake, he should just cut his losses and go eat the cake and ice cream himself, but he had already knocked, so--

"Yeah?" Derek opened the door and leaned against the frame, like the world's sexiest pinup, and how was that fair?

He no longer had Stiles' teeshirt on which disappointed Stiles a little, but he wasn't wearing a top at all which was some consolation, and his hair was an insane mess. He looked cranky, but still so incredibly hot that Stiles felt himself blushing painfully just at the sight of him.

"I brought you dessert," Stiles offered lamely, holding out the bowl. He'd even remembered to include a spoon. He'd considered a fork as well, since there was cake, but the ice cream was already melting and making the cake soggy, and having two utensils sticking up out of the bowl would have looked kind of silly. Like some kind of weird alien. A crazy chocolate and ice cream headed alien. In a bowl. Or maybe just the head--

"Does Mom know you brought me this?" Derek asked, and he looked less cranky but still stupidly sexy.

Stiles rolled his eyes, because Derek looked crazy hot but that was a stupid question. "What do you think?"

Derek shook his head, seeming to lose the last of his crankiness. He took the bowl and went back into his room, but he left the door ajar behind him.

Since Derek almost never left his door open, even when he was in his room, Stiles took this as an invitation. He didn't want to go back downstairs because their parents were watching a drama -- a period drama, no less -- and he didn't really want to retreat to his bedroom. He could jerk off, yeah, but it was early yet for a Saturday and he didn't feel like being alone.

He was still glad that Derek wasn't giving him the silent treatment anymore, and he wondered if maybe they could talk like real human beings. That would be nice.

Maybe if they acted more like actual brothers, Stiles would stop lusting after Derek.

Yeah, right, and maybe Lydia Martin would walk up to Stiles and ask him out on a date at school on Monday. That was just about as likely.

"Thanks," Derek grudged, sitting on the edge of his bed, his thighs spread. He was wearing his pajama bottoms and Stiles couldn't help eyeballing his stepbrother's crotch. He hadn't been kidding about the boxer-briefs. He knew what the kids at school said and he'd done enough staring at the bulge in Derek's pants lately that he was pretty sure this generalization was borne out.

"Wii was fun," Stiles said, plopping down in the chair at Derek's desk and dragging his eyes away from the juncture of Derek's thighs. Staring at Derek's dick wasn't going to convince him to think of Derek as his brother. "But Mom won, of course."

"Of course," Derek snorted, shoveling soggy chocolate cake into his mouth. He didn't seem to mind that the ice cream was melting into it, but, hey, it was ice cream. A flavor that Stiles had specifically chosen for Derek, so he felt he'd made the right choice by putting both treats in the same bowl before smuggling it up to Derek.

"Dad played for a while, but then he said he hurt his shoulder," Stiles continued. "Mom was leaning against it when I left the living room, though, so I think he just got tired of her beating his pants off."

Derek looked horrified. "Phrasing!"

Stiles thought about what he'd said for a moment, then cackled with laughter, kicking up his feet.

"Dork," Derek said, but he sounded almost affectionate and he ate more cake and ice cream, his pale green-blue-brown eyes fixed on Stiles with unnerving intensity.

Stiles sighed, curling himself up crosslegged on the seat of Derek's chair, bare feet under his thighs. He'd almost never been in Derek's bedroom before, with or without permission, so he took a moment to look around. It might have had something to do with the way Derek was staring at him and the fact that he felt uncomfortable just staring back... or maybe he was just wildly curious. Probably some of both, if he was honest.

Like Stiles, Derek had a bed, a desk, and a dresser. There was a small table beside his bed, whereas Stiles had a headboard that had shelves, but Derek's bed was a lot bigger than Stiles' narrow twin, and he had two bookshelves instead of one.

Stiles wondered if the bedside table drawer was where Derek kept his lubricant... whatever he used for jerking off. He had to use something, right? Stiles kept a healthy stock of hand lotion himself, because he'd have died of embarrassment buying anything more specialized, and died even harder asking a parent or Derek to buy it for him. He wondered if Derek was shy about buying lube. He wondered if Derek was buying condoms, because Derek looked too hot to not be having sex....

And that thought suddenly had him feeling unexpectedly distraught.

Derek didn't have a steady girlfriend, but that didn't mean that he wasn't getting some. Hell, he was insanely good looking, his muscles had muscles, his jaw was stubbly, and he wore boxer-briefs. Yeah, he didn't have the best attitude sometimes, but Stiles thought that Derek was still popular at school, and thinking of him as a virgin suddenly seemed like the world's biggest impossibility.

Stiles wasn't sure why it hadn't occurred to him before that Derek must have had sex, with a real person. Maybe because until recently he hadn't regarded his stepbrother sexually at all? But now it was in his head and it wouldn't leave and he was....

He was upset over it, Stiles recognized. Like, legitimately discomfitted. It messed with his world view and made him feel unsettled under his skin. He didn't like the thought of it, and he wasn't sure whether it was jealousy toward Derek or jealousy over Derek.

Okay, probably the latter.

"What's wrong?" Derek asked, putting his empty bowl down on the bedside table and giving Stiles a slightly concerned look, his eyebrows creasing together in the middle. There was a smear of chocolate on his lower lip and Stiles wanted to lick it away, which made him feel even more like a total pervert and a complete loser.

"Stiles?" Derek prodded, when Stiles didn't reply right away.

Stiles shrugged, then hunched into himself. He didn't want Derek kicking him out of his bedroom -- at least not yet, since it was kind of inevitable that it would happen eventually -- so he didn't dare to let him know what he'd just been thinking.

"Nothing," he answered lamely. It might have been better to make something up, but nothing sprang to mind. Not when he was trying to push away mental images of some girl with her fingers digging into the bunched muscles of Derek's shoulders, her thighs wrapped around his lean hips....

Euw. Stiles hoped Derek had never had sex with Erica!

Bad enough that Derek might have screwed some imaginary, faceless girl. Stiles hoped he'd never had sex with someone that Stiles knew! Especially not Erica, because she was a mean bitch to Stiles. She was sort of dating Boyd now, in a weird unofficial way, but that hadn't always been the case, and she'd been friends with Derek longer than she'd been sleeping with Boyd.

Stiles wondered briefly why Derek didn't have a girlfriend -- had never had one that he knew of, aside from a girl named Paige that he'd dated for a little while a couple of years ago -- but he supposed he could chalk it up to bad attitude. Isaac was single too, after all, and as much as Stiles disliked him, he had to admit that Isaac was almost as good looking as Derek was.

"Are you sure?"

Stiles flushed, ducking his head and trying desperately to think of something other than Derek and sex. It was tough, though, when he was sitting in Derek's bedroom, surrounded by the scent of his body.

At least he wasn't still wearing Derek's shirt, Stiles thought with a sense of relief. After playing Wii they'd had dessert and Stiles hadn't wanted to risk getting ice cream on it so he'd gone to his room and changed into one of his own shirts. Derek's teeshirt was currently laying on Stiles' pillow. If Derek demanded it back, Stiles would go and get it, but if he didn't then it was going to feature heavily in Stiles' masturbatory routine tonight. And it would continue to do so for as long as Stiles could get away with keeping it.

Hey, Derek hadn't given back Stiles' shirt yet either. Fair was fair.

"Thanks for helping me shave today," he mumbled, instead of answering Derek's question, because he couldn't think of a convincing lie for why he looked so distraught. Somehow he didn't think "I just now realized you've probably had sex with someone or maybe multiple someones and I hate that thought," would cut it as an explanation, even if it was true.

Derek shrugged, looking uncomfortable. He drew one of his own feet up onto the bed, tucking it under the opposite thigh and wrapping his hands around his shin. He looked like a freaking pin-up from a beefcake magazine, and Stiles was kind of doomed, because he had to live with this impossible hotness.

"Didn't want you slicing your face open," Derek said, staring at Stiles with that scary intensity he sometimes displayed. Stiles never could figure it out but he accepted it as it was; it was just a part of Derek, like his expressive eyebrows or his adorable bunny teeth.

Stiles wanted to inform Derek that he would not have sliced his face open, he'd done just fine with minimal supervision, he hadn't needed Derek's help.... But that would have pissed Derek off and he would probably kick Stiles out of his room, and Stiles didn't want that. Besides, he'd been the one to ask Derek for his help in the first place.

So instead of snarking back, he just pulled a sour face. "I said thank you," he informed Derek haughtily. "You could have just graciously accepted my gratitude."

Derek stared at him for a moment, and Stiles was sure he'd just gotten himself kicked out after all. But then Derek burst into unexpected laughter, flopping back onto his bed, propped up on his elbows, both his feet on the floor now, and his pale gaze still fixed on Stiles' face.

Stiles wasn't sure why Derek had found that so funny, but he liked to hear Derek laugh, and he liked that he'd caused it, so he couldn't help smiling in sympathy, even as he ducked his head a little shyly.

"You need a haircut," Derek said unexpectedly, staying where he was, his thighs spread as though to display his junk for Stiles' curious eyes, his chest and stomach bared and rippling with muscle. He was staring at Stiles intently again... or still, whatever.

Stiles startled and then glared at him. "What?"

"But don't get a buzz," Derek instructed, as though this was something like a normal conversation. Then again, they almost never talked, so who was to say what a normal conversation was between them? Stiles felt like this criticism of his hair was coming out of nowhere, though. It didn't have anything to do with him learning to shave. Did it?

"Why not?" Stiles asked, reaching up and digging his fingers into his hair. It was getting pretty bushy, and any day now their Mom was bound to notice and make him an appointment to get it dealt with. He'd been getting it buzzed since he'd been little, since before his Dad had married Derek's Mom, because it was easier to take care of.

"It makes you look like a spazz."

Stiles glowered at Derek. "But you always say I am a spazz."

Derek shrugged, making it look natural rather than awkward, even though he was still resting back on his elbows with his shoulders up close to his earlobes. "Doesn't mean you have to go around looking like one."

Stiles stared at Derek's chest, fascinated more by the flex of muscles in his pectorals than by his tight nipples or the hairlessness. And definitely more interested in that than in his own hair... but then a thought struck him.

"I'll do it if you grow your chest hair back out," he bargained.

"What?" Derek sat back up, leaning forward. Stiles mourned the loss of his view. He also worried that he'd pushed too far in a weird direction, and that Derek would now kick him out of his bedroom.

But he was going to stick by his guns, so to speak. He knew what was best, and he wanted Derek to be at his best, even if it was to the benefit of some faceless girl rather than Stiles. Then again, even if Stiles never got to touch Derek's amazing chest -- because why would he? -- he got to look at it all the time, since Derek didn't like wearing shirts around the house. Why not try to make sure Derek looked the way Stiles wanted him to look, since he was going to be looking.

"I'll get my hair styled instead of buzzed if you stop shaving your chest," he repeated, laying it out in clear terms.

Derek's brows rose, but he didn't look angry, which was a good sign, right? "Why are you so invested in my chest hair?" he asked, putting it into words and making Stiles' stomach swoop and twist with nerves. "I'm just trying to do you a favor here. I thought you were getting old enough to care about how you looked."

Stiles scowled, feeling somehow offended by that statement even if he couldn't figure out exactly how.

"And I care how you look," he replied tartly, hoping fervently that Derek wouldn't ask him why he cared. "And with your chest all shaved bare like that, you look like a tool!"

Derek's brows rose way up toward his hairline. Derek usually had his bangs gelled to ridiculous heights so Stiles didn't think Derek ought be offering him advice on styling his own hair, but since it was the weekend and Derek was relaxing at home, his bangs were resting flat and soft-looking against his forehead in a way that somehow made him look older rather than younger.

Stiles was struck with the overwhelming desire to feel if Derek's bangs were as soft as they looked... but he knew Derek would skin him alive if he tried it. Or at least make him leave his room.

Instead he ran his fingertip over the skin between his nose and his upper lip, where Derek had done in the grocery store. His skin shivered with the sense memory, and then he shivered again as Derek's eyes fixed on the movement of his finger, seemingly fixated on his mouth.

Stiles lowered his hand, running his tongue anxiously over his lips, and Derek's gaze stayed there, didn't follow his fingers.

"Do we have a deal?" Stiles prompted, knowing it was daring but when hadn't he thrown himself headfirst into things? The worst Derek could do would be to tell him "no" and kick him out of his room, after all.

Derek sighed and rolled his eyes, as though he was so put upon.

"Sure, whatever," he replied, which was a hell of a lot more than Stiles ever would have expected from him.

"Really?" His voice squeaked a little, to his utter humiliation.

"Did I stutter?"

Stiles took his own turn to roll his eyes. But Derek hadn't kicked him out yet, and he'd agreed to Stiles' deal.

"Was there... was there a particular girl you shaved your chest for?" he ventured hesitantly.

Derek shrugged. "Not that it's any of your business," he said, which was true, "But no, no one in particular."

"You didn't shave your legs, did you?" Stiles asked in fascination, staring at the dark hair shading Derek's forearms. He could see that Derek hadn't shaved there, but girls evidently didn't either, even though they shaved their legs, which had never made any sense to Stiles.

Then again, Stiles didn't really understand much about girls in general. Like why they might prefer a guy who looked more like a boy than a man.

That might work in Stiles' favor, if his own chest continued to be as hairless as it was now.... Though, to be fair, he was only thirteen, so it was likely that he would develop chest hair at some point. Later rather than sooner, if Derek was right.

"No, I didn't shave my legs," Derek said in scornful tones, as though this was a stupid question.

"Did you manscape your pubes?" Stiles found himself asking, mildly appalled even as the words left his mouth but also insanely curious.

From the horrified look Derek gave him, one would think that Stiles had asked him whether he'd shaved his balls.

"Did you shave your balls?" popped out his mouth before he even stopped to think. Jokes about Nair aside -- which he'd slung in Derek's direction the morning Derek had shaved his chest -- Stiles suddenly wanted to know.

"Really?" Derek gave him a hard look, pale eyes burning. "Really, Stiles?"

"What?" He flung his hands out. "You said girls like a hairless chest; maybe they want a guy's junk to be smooth too! I don't know!"

"You don't know anything, do you," Derek snarked, and the way he said it, it wasn't a question.

"Don't rub it in." Stiles was a virgin and he knew that Derek knew that, but they didn't need to talk about it.

"Jesus, Stiles, you're only thirteen," Derek exclaimed, and he sounded as though he actually cared somehow. "No one expects you to know anything about girls yet."

Stiles grimaced. It felt like Derek should have been making fun of him, but he sounded as though he meant that statement seriously.

"Were you getting laid when you were thirteen?" he asked, staring over Derek's right shoulder because he couldn't meet his eyes while asking that question. But he felt like he couldn't not ask it.

"Do you remember what I looked like when I was thirteen?" Derek rejoined, and he was actually conversing about this with Stiles instead of pushing him out of his room, which was awesome, but it was giving Stiles more and more of a chance to embarrass himself.

Stiles thought about it for a while. "I was only eight or nine back then," he said. "But I thought you looked like a grown-up...."

Derek actually smiled as he shook his head. "Trust me, I didn't look like a grown-up. I was almost as scrawny as you are now, and I had no idea what to do with my hair. That wasn't exactly a good time for me."

Stiles nodded, trying really hard to remember what Derek had actually looked like when he'd been Stiles' age instead of focusing on the fact that this might be deemed an awkward period for himself, since he was the one who was thirteen now.

Well, it wasn't like he didn't already know that. And at least Derek was describing himself in unflattering terms, instead of pointing out Stiles' shortcomings.

"You were already shaving, though, right?" he asked, because he was pretty sure he remembered Derek with stubble, even back then.

"You shaved today," Derek offered, but he was all too clearly humoring Stiles.

"I didn't need to," Stiles grumbled. "Not really."

"Well." Derek shrugged. "It made Mom happy."

"Yeah, creepily so," Stiles said, reaching up and rubbing his chin. It was starting to feel more normal now, not as raw, but he wasn't going to bother shaving again until he had to. He wasn't as hairy as Derek was, not on his arms or legs, much less his chest, so it was probably going to be a while yet.

Derek shrugged again, not offended on his Mom's behalf. "She has to do what she can with two sons," he said. "Unless you wanna start wearing makeup and having your period."

"Oh, ha-ha," Stiles rejoined. "Why would I be the girl? Anyway, I don't think Mom would be happier with a daughter than two sons, given how competitive she can be. They'd probably drive each other crazy."

"Probably," Derek agreed easily enough.

"I'm glad Mom and Dad didn't want to have more kids after they got married," Stiles said honestly. Then, because it felt right, when he was sitting here in Derek's bedroom having an actual conversation with Derek for just about the first time in, well, ever, he added, "I'm glad that you're my stepbrother."

Derek's brows rose again, his expression mildly surprised, but he didn't blow Stiles off immediately, which was good.

"Do you just mean in comparison to a hypothetical younger sister?"

"No!" Stiles squawked indignantly. "I mean you, Derek! Jeeze, can't you take a freaking compliment?"

Now Derek looked even more surprised, but it was probably because of Stiles' outburst more than it was because of his confession.

And now Stiles was just embarrassed that he had said anything at all.

"You know what, forget it." He jumped up off of Derek's desk chair, wobbling a little because his legs had been tucked underneath him for too long. "I'm not expecting you to say the same thing to me when I know it's not true, but you could at least do me the favor of believing me when I say it!"

Derek was obviously shocked by his outburst, but Stiles was upset and he didn't care. It hadn't been an outright rejection, but it still felt like one, and he couldn't stand being here in Derek's room anymore when Derek was sitting there looking all sexy like a sex god and he'd probably had sex, probably had a lot of sex, and Stiles hadn't done anything with anyone, and he'd just put himself out there and gotten shot down, and it wasn't even sexual, it was in terms of being brothers, and--

"Stiles," Derek called commandingly as Stiles twisted the knob and opened the door.

"What?" Stiles turned to glare at him, hoping his face wasn't as red as it felt.

Derek seemed to struggle internally for a moment, and then he came out with, "Thanks for bringing me dessert."

Stiles would have liked to think that there was a deeper meaning to those words -- like maybe it was Derek's way of apologizing or saying that he was glad Stiles was his stepbrother too -- but he really didn't feel that there was.

"Whatever," he shot back and darted down the hall to his own room.

It might not be fair to Derek, but Stiles was just too upset to keep talking to him now. They'd had such a good conversation and then Stiles had gone and said too much and had the mat pulled out from under him, and he knew it wasn't actually Derek's fault but that didn't make his chest hurt any less.

Well, it also wasn't going to stop him jerking off while wearing Derek's shirt tonight. That was something that was going to happen.

Because, hey, Derek hadn't asked for it back. And even if he was truly unsettled over the realization that Derek almost certainly wasn't a virgin, and even though he was feeling indirectly rejected, Stiles was still sporting the fresh bruising around his wrists and he still had a shirt that smelled like Derek's body.

He'd have to have been way more offended and hurt by Derek not to want to jerk off to thoughts of his older stepbrother. Way, way, way more. Which, thankfully, he wasn't.

+=+=+

Derek was pretty sure he was never going to understand Stiles, no matter how many years they lived in the same house.

It might be easier having a little sister, he thought with a combination of annoyance and affection. Not really, but... god. It was so hard to get along with Stiles sometimes. Mostly it was because he and Stiles were so very different from each other.

Derek sighed, walking over to lock his door, then flopped on his bed, rubbing his cock lazily through the material of his pajama bottoms. Not with intent, just to create a little friction and pleasure.

It might be a horrible idea -- it was surely a horrible idea -- but it was getting to the point that being in the same room as Stiles, carrying on a conversation with his stepbrother was enough to cause him to chub up a little.

Though, if he was honest, Derek recognized that this conversation they'd just had had probably been the longest they'd ever spoken. At least not without it devolving into snark and shouting.

Which made it even more disappointing, after all that, for Stiles to have stormed out of here angry.

And, yeah, Derek had failed to step up and tell Stiles that he was glad he was his stepbrother too, but like Stiles had said, he shouldn't have felt compelled to return the sentiment just because Stiles had said it first.

Stiles had said that wasn't why he'd been pissed, but Derek thought that this was a lie. And if Stiles believed his own words, then he was lying to himself more than he was to Derek.

Derek was glad that Stiles was his stepbrother... sometimes.

Stiles was hard to live with even when seen through the eyes of affection, Derek thought idly, settling back with his hands behind his head, his knees raised, and his thighs spread. He was still a little hard, thinking about Stiles, but it wasn't urgent. Mostly he was trying to work through the weird-ass conversation the two of them had just had.

To be honest, their conversation had been so bizarre and had covered so many touchy subjects that Derek would have been genuinely shocked if Stiles hadn't ended up storming out of his room at one point or another.

He wasn't sure what was weirder; that Stiles had asked whether Derek had been a virgin when he'd been thirteen, or that he'd shown such a remarkable fixation on Derek's lack of chest hair.

That wasn't all of it, of course. But those were the points that were stuck in Derek's head.

It had started out with Stiles bringing Derek ice cream and cake; the dessert he'd missed out on because he hadn't wanted to play Wii with the family. Stiles could be generous toward those he cared about, but he'd never been so thoughtful toward Derek before.

Well, they had been spending more time together lately than usual. It had been.... Derek was running out of words to describe it. Weird. Strange. Bizarre. That covered it and yet it didn't seem like enough.

Of course, what was lusting after his thirteen year old stepbrother if not all of the above?

Derek's own lustful feelings toward Stiles notwithstanding, he was pretty sure Stiles' reactions toward him were evolving. A couple of weeks ago there was no way Stiles would have bothered to bring Derek up a bowl of dessert, much less wandered into his bedroom after him to talk about body hair and virginity.

Not only had Stiles made a big deal about Derek's chest hair -- showing an interest in it that tripped lightly over the border into creepy, considering he was Derek's younger stepbrother -- but he'd also come right out and asked if Derek's had shaved his balls.

He'd joked about Nair and balls before, on the morning Derek had actually shaved his chest, but that had just been a joke. His query about the state of Derek's balls now had been seriously meant.

Derek supposed he should be used to Stiles popping out inappropriate questions by this point. Like the time he'd asked their aunt if her yeast infection had cleared up yet; information he could only have gotten by listening in on one of their Mom's phone calls with her. That had been mortifying for everyone involved, but it hadn't been as personal as his question about Derek's balls.

Well, okay, it had probably been as personal for Aunt Carrie. But not for Derek. Certainly not as personal as Stiles asking if he had shaved balls, or whether he'd still been a virgin when he'd been Stiles' age.

The truth was that Derek had started being sexually active around his fourteenth birthday, which was only a little older than Stiles was now, but he didn't want to tell Stiles that. It would only lead to Stiles comparing himself to Derek and potentially feeling bad about his lack of success in that area.

Because Erica and Isaac might have just been being assholes, but Derek was pretty sure Stiles didn't have anything other than his own hand going on right now. That and fantasies about Lydia Martin.

The poor kid was something of a mess, but that fact didn't seem to stop Derek from wanting to touch him all over, to taste him, to grab a hold of him and... well.

Maybe it was time for Derek to get out there and try to find someone to take his mind off of his much younger, scrawny, hyperactive, pretty little stepbrother. It had been a while since Derek had been out on a real date; longer than he cared to think about.

It wasn't that Derek wasn't popular. He worked hard to maintain his "cool" image at school and he was pretty well liked, or at least he thought so. He'd certainly never had too much difficulty in finding people to fool around with when he felt like it.

If he was painfully honest, Derek knew that his freaky new obsession with Stiles wasn't happening because he wasn't getting laid enough.... But it couldn't hurt, right? Finding someone to go out with and possibly have sex with was sure to take his mind off of how it had felt to pin Stiles to the floor, and how much he wanted to do it again.

So it was decided. At school on Monday, Derek was going to ask Paige Krasikeva out. They had a history; they'd made a try at dating about two years ago, give or take. It hadn't worked out but Derek had matured since then and maybe Paige would be willing to give him a second chance, especially if she had noticed.

And if she said "no"... well, there were plenty of other classmates Derek could ask out. People who would be more sure to put out than Paige would be. Not that this was what Derek was looking for. What he was looking for.... What he really needed....

What Derek really needed was a distraction. Maybe not the best basis for a relationship, but he really did feel it was for the best.

Maybe if he got right in there and started dating someone he'd forget how it had felt to sit on top of Stiles and wrap his fingers around bony wrists. He'd forget standing with Stiles in the bathroom, shirtless and intimate. He'd forget about touching Stiles' smooth chest and his fuzz-soft upper lip. Maybe he'd stop staring at the bruises ringing Stiles' bony wrists, and maybe he wouldn't put any new ones there.

He had to have hope. Because otherwise things might go very badly very soon. Derek wasn't as impulsive as Stiles tended to be, but even his control could be stretched past the breaking point.

Especially by everything that there was about Stiles. As bizarre a thought as that was.

+=+=+

Derek was dating Paige Krasikeva again, after they'd called it quits a couple of years ago.

Stiles couldn't believe it. He wasn't sure why he was so stunned by the idea of Derek dating. It wasn't like Derek wasn't prime dating material. Hell, any girl would be happy to say "yes" if he would just ask, right?

But Stiles had become complacent. It had been a long time since Derek had actually been out on a date. Since well before Stiles had started actually caring about things like that, for sure.

Not that he should care. He shouldn't care, right? Derek was just his older stepbrother and nothing else. It shouldn't matter who Derek dated, or even whether he was dating at all.

Still, Stiles couldn't help it; he kept thinking back to the weird conversation they'd had in Derek's bedroom, trying to figure out if he'd said something to trigger this sudden interest in dating. They'd talked about Derek's sex life, after all. Maybe that had made Derek realize that it had been a long time since he'd gotten laid...?

If this was Stiles' fault, then he was going to be even more upset about the whole thing.

Not that it should have upset him at all. Stiles had no reason to feel so possessive over Derek. It wasn't any of his business who Derek dated and when he chose to date them. It really, really wasn't. He hadn't cared when Derek had been dating Paige the first time, except that he'd thought that she'd been too nice for Derek.

Which made sense. It wasn't even that Paige was so very nice -- though she was certainly nicer than Erica! -- but it was more that Derek had been kind of a dick to Stiles back then. Heck, up until recently, with the whole watching-movies-together and teaching-him-to-shave and letting-Stiles-come-in-his-room thing.

Now... now Stiles' feelings about Paige and her dating Derek were... decidedly more complicated.

And stupid. Stiles was being stupid. Derek was his stepbrother and nothing more. Stiles should just consider himself lucky that they'd been able to get past the weirdness of what had happened on the living room floor that one night. He shouldn't read too much into the wrist grabbing and the chest touching and the fact that Derek had yet to give Stiles back his teeshirt or ask for his own in return....

But did it all mean nothing? It wasn't like Stiles thought Derek could possibly be interested in him sexually. He was a scrawny little kid and Derek had never been shy about letting Stiles know how annoying he found him. And yet....

Stiles couldn't ignore the fact that Derek had touched him a lot more recently than usual. And maybe the way Derek had pinned him to the floor in the living room had been completely aggressive, and maybe the wrist thing in the store had been incidental, but Derek had also touched Stiles' upper lip at the grocery store. Even if he'd just been feeling for mustache hairs, it had still been really intimate.... And he'd put his hand on Stiles' chest in the bathroom, had touched one of his nipples!

But, again, that might have been incidental. No matter how Stiles might wish it had been deliberate.

Anyway, now Derek was dating Paige Krasikeva, again. So all his touching must really not have meant anything.

Well, maybe it was time for Stiles to try dating someone too! Derek wasn't the only one who had outside interests. And while Stiles didn't dare to ask Lydia out while she was in a relationship with Jackson -- who totally did not deserve her, by the way, but she wasn't going to listen to Stiles if he told her so -- that didn't mean that he couldn't aim high.

If Stiles was going to ask someone out on a date, he was going to ask the best looking person that he knew!

Well, next best looking after Derek and Lydia, of course. That kind of went without saying. But since they were both out of reach in their own individual ways, Stiles was going to aim for the very next best thing.

Almost as good as either Derek or Lydia, and definitely better than Paige Krasikeva.

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February 2015

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