FIC: i didn't know i would feel but now you're in my way
Title: i didn't know i would feel but now you're in my way
Author: inlightofvisa
Rating: PG13 (slash)
Genre and/or Pairing: AU, everyone is human, there are no werewolves
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Word Count: 2296
Summary: Stiles wants to lose his virginity, but only to Derek. Things don't go exactly as planned.
---
“I’m losing my virginity this weekend,” Stiles announces as soon as he drops his backpack on the floor of his room. Scott reels a bit in confusion, but what else is new?
“You’re what?” Scott says, still bewildered and trying to find his feet.
“I’m losing my virginity this weekend,” Stiles says again, flopping on his bed. “To Derek Hale.”
Scott looks at his friend like he’s grown a second head.
“How are you so sure?”
Stiles waggles his eyebrows and leaps off his bed.
“Well, I… don’t quite have a plan yet, but something will come together,” he says, bouncing on his feet. “In the meantime, you’re going to help me pick what to wear on my booty call.”
Scott looks like he’s going to be sick before his face shifts to something indignant.
“Why am I your wardrobe manager? Why don’t you have Danny help you?”
Stiles shrugs.
“Because that’s just being a dick?” he offers. “And though Danny may prefer those, it doesn’t mean you should be one to him.”
Scott just shoots him the patented I-still-have-no-idea-what-you’re-talking-about look before opening Stiles’ closet.
“Do you even own anything remotely nice-looking, Stiles?”
Stiles manages to look affronted.
“Why are you insulting my clothing choices? I have tons of nice-looking clothes!”
He ruffles through the closet, pulling out various tees.
“See? This one’s nice. It says “jawesome” on it. And then there’s this one, which is striped! And then there’s this--”
Scott smacks him on the shoulder.
“Focus, dude.”
“Oh, right.”
He roots through the chaos that is his closet until he comes across the outfit he wore for junior year winter formal, tossing all sorts of other clothing out in the process.
“That’s decent,” Scott says uninterestedly, looking at his phone. “How long is this going to take again?”
Stiles rolls his eyes before turning around, brandishing his clothes as some sort of not-so-lethal weapon.
“If you say you have a date with Allison, I’m going to punch you in the head.”
Scott opens his mouth, but then closes it in the interest of keeping his skull intact. Stiles snorts.
“C’mon, your best friend is going to get laid and you can’t even muster some sort of response? I’m a catch, and you know it!”
Scott coughs, looking up from his phone.
“You don’t even know that it’s going to go through.”
Stiles grins maniacally.
“Oh, I know it’s going through alright. We’ve been texting.”
“Stiles!”
-*-*-
Stiles hears Derek’s motorcycle pull up in front of his house quite promptly the next evening, and he has to keep himself from skipping down the stairs.
“Stiles?” his dad says, eyeing him from the table.
“Don’t worry Dad, I have my wallet and my phone and everything.”
His dad makes an uncomfortable face before tossing him a small square thing. A small square foil-wrapped condom-shaped thing.
“Dad!”
“What?! I don’t know what you’re getting yourself into and you better use protection because I know you’re up to no good!”
“And my version of no good involves condoms.”
He can hear his dad roll his eyes.
“You’re a teenager. I was there once, I know what it feels like to go on a… booty call.”
Stiles attempts to not blush. He fails miserably.
“This-It’s-I-”
“I know a booty call when I see it,” his dad says, still clearly uncomfortable. “And you’re covering up.”
“I can’t believe you called me out on a booty call,” Stiles says, miserable. His dad knows he’s hooking up. It’s the end of the world as he knows it.
“Like I said,” his dad replies, hiding behind the paper, “I was your age once.”
“I’m entirely convinced that you’ve been the same age since the time dinosaurs ruled the earth,” Stiles says, holding his hand over his eyes. “This is the most embarrassing moment in my life.”
“The dinosaurs taught me important things about booty calls,” his dad says, laughing. “Like how it’s important to cover up.”
“They didn’t even have latex then, Dad!”
“They managed.”
“If by they you mean the dinosaurs, it’s not like they had any reason to use protection!” Stiles shakes his head vigorously, attempting to dispel the image. Dino-sex is… eugh.
“Get outta here,” his dad says jokingly, motioning towards the door. “Your booty call awaits.”
“Please, stop saying that,” Stiles moans as he moves to where his… whatever is waiting. “Please do not ever let me hear ‘booty call’ come out of your mouth again.”
“Booty call.”
“I’m leaving!”
“Booty call.”
“Forever!”
And with that, he walks out the door, right into a wall of… person. Derek. Crap.
“Hey,” he says, waving awkwardly. Derek doesn’t say anything, just gives him a look before tossing him a helmet.
“Put this on,” he says gruffly before turning back to his motorcycle. Stiles just dumbly nods before buckling the casing on his head. The helmet is large and strange-fitting on his head.
“Did you know that if we get into a crash then your head can explode in here?” Stiles says, mouth on autopilot. “But of course that’s only if we’re going fast enough when we crash.”
“Shut up,” Derek says. “We’re not going to crash.”
“I have confidence in your driving abilities, sourpants,” Stiles says. Derek looks at his pants, and then Stiles looks at Derek’s pants, and wow. They’re leather. Of course they’re leather. And Stiles, for once in his life, can focus on something for more than two seconds. “Not that your pants are sour. Your pants are pretty awesome.”
Stiles swears that Derek’s neck starts to turn red before the biker flips his collar up and nods. They both mount the bike, Stiles making sure to keep what he thinks is a respectable distance.
“Hold on,” Derek says gruffly. Stiles is nothing but awkward and gangly before Derek grabs both of his arms and wraps them around his chest. “You’re holding on for your life, I don’t care what you touch.”
And Stiles maybe swoons a bit at that. Wait, not swoons, because that is not manly, he… no, he definitely swoons. There’s no other way of saying it. He flat-out swoons and he swoons hard. Derek turns around and looks at him funny, as if he saw all the awkward flailing that happened.
“Are you okay?”
“I-um, yeah. Let’s go.”
-*-*-
The ride is mostly uneventful and Stiles spends most of the ride trying to find out whether or not he can still hear. This of course is done by snapping his fingers near his ears, which involves letting go of Derek at stop lights. Derek seems to not mind, though, as he never mentions anything or even turns around to glance at Stiles at all. Which, Stiles guesses, is okay. He had bluntly told Derek what he had wanted and the man had agreed to it.
“You just want sex,” his text had said flatly. Stiles could picture his face. Stoic, unexpressive.
“Yeah,” he had replied. “Just sex. I don’t want any of this post-coital cuddling business.”
They pull into the local diner with a screech. The women all turn to see who Derek Hale is toting around on his arm and start to give Stiles dirty looks. He waves awkwardly at them as he tries to keep up with his… whatever-you-call-the-guy-who’s-taking-your-virginity-with-no-strings-attached.
“Two?” the waitress asks, sneering a bit at Stiles. Derek nods, glares at her, and she absolutely withers. Stiles is a bit jealous.
“How do you do that?” he asks on the way to the table.
Derek looks at him.
“Do what?”
“The whole make-people-wither thing?”
“What?”
Derek slides into the booth across from Stiles, who opts for testing the bounciness of the leather seats. The waitress rolls her eyes and walks away.
“You do this whole evil eye thing and then people just do what you want.”
Derek cocks his head and frowns.
“I don’t do an evil eye thing,” he says slowly, picking up a menu and hiding behind it.
Well, two can play at that game.
When the waitress comes back, Derek orders a mountain of food and Stiles just asks for a burger and curly fries. The waitress seems to like him a bit more after that encounter, making some comment about how “it’s nice of you to not financially strain your boyfriend.” Stiles just tries not to hide under the table when she says that, giving her an awkward grin and then trying to will her to leave. As she departs to put in their order to the poor chef, Stiles kicks Derek.
“What in the world are you even doing?” he asks. “You seriously like ordered all of Australia. To go.”
Derek shrugs.
“I’m hungry,” he says, as if that explains everything. Which, well, it does, but it’s not that satisfactory an answer. Because when Stiles is hungry, he doesn’t go and devour entire continents. He might if he were Godzilla, though. That’d be fun, other than the whole death ray deal. And the entire Japanese army trying to kill him. Oh, and breathing fire, because that would probably damage the mucus lining of his throat.
They end up not talking over dinner which is the most surreal experience (mainly because Stiles has never not had anything to say to someone about anything), and Derek pays for the entire meal because he is a gentleman. Or something. On their way out, the waitress thanks them again, winking at Stiles and then giving Derek an entirely lascivious grin which makes Stiles’ stomach turn.
“Let’s get outta here,” he mumbles, fiddling with his helmet. Derek nods.
-*-*-
As soon as they reach Derek’s house, Stiles’ helmet is off and his face is accosted by Derek’s mouth. Stiles jumps a bit before attempting to relax into the make-out session and allows himself to be dragged bodily into Derek’s house and up the stairs to the bedroom. The bed makes a surprise attack on the back of his knees and he finds himself pinned completely under Derek’s warm weight. His hands slide up and down Derek’s sides, and eventually under his t-shirt, lifting it up over his torso. Derek makes quick work of Stiles’ clothes and they’re both down to their underwear when panic breaks over Stiles in a tidal wave.
“What am I doing?” he gasps as Derek kisses his way down his chest. “What am I doing.”
“We’re gonna have sex,” Derek growls, voice rumbling across Stiles’ skin. He shivers.
“I’m sorry, I can’t do this,” Stiles says, pushing Derek away. Derek stops, looks at him, and then lies down next to him on the bed.
“What?”
“I… I can’t do this, I’m not ready,” Stiles repeats, his hands shaking. “I always thought this would be with Lydia, or someone like Lydia.”
Derek huffs and rolls out.
“This is not the time to be having a gay freak-out. You should’ve sorted things through before propositioning me.”
And if Stiles can read people as well as he thinks he can (which isn’t very well), he thinks that Derek sounds hurt.
“Wait, no, I meant like I always thought that this would be with someone special,” he says quickly, attempting to perform some sort of verbal first aid. “I was so tired of waiting and thought that I’d just do this, but…”
“But what?” Derek turns around to face him, his face set and his eyes hard. “What?”
“I can’t do casual,” Stiles says slowly. “I just can’t.”
He rolls over to face away from Derek, ready to bathe in his own shame before he feels an arm snake around his waist.
“If it makes you feel any better, I can’t either.”
Stiles frowns and then turns over.
“What?”
Derek looks at him, hazel eyes softening and his eyebrows furrowing.
“The only reason I said yes to you was because I wanted to be with you, Stiles.”
And suddenly, everything feels much too hot and Stiles is sure that he’s going to molt right out of his skin like a lizard because his skin is too tight, his boxer briefs are too tight, the covers are too warm, he just needs to-
And then everything stops, because Derek Hale, Mr. Won’t-Give-Anyone-Their-Time-Of-Day, is kissing him like he’s fragile and breakable and it does all sorts of things to Stiles’ poor actually-fragile heart. He kisses back, passionately, wrapping his lanky arms around Derek’s thick torso, bringing them closer together.
Stiles breaks the kiss because he, unlike the not-mortal that is Derek Hale, needs air to breathe.
“Wow,” he says, starting to smile.
“Wow,” Derek parrots back at him, his lips quirking faintly.
“Are we still going to do this sex thing eventually? Because it’s back on the table,” Stiles says, smirking a bit before kissing Derek again.
“Only when you’re ready,” Derek replies, grinning a bit.
“So much for a booty call,” Stiles laughs as they pull apart.
“Why would you even need a booty call?” Derek asks, a bit perplexed, frowning. Stiles giggles. It’s manly, alright? It’s a manly giggle. A miggle.
“Because I thought this would be casual,” he says, looking at his new… whatever. Derek pouts. He full-on pouts, and Stiles is going to tell all his friends that he is doing something with Derek Hale, who is actually human because he pouts.
“Says the one who chickened out of the casual sex,” Derek replies, smacking Stiles with a pillow. “Does it look like this is going to be casual?”
“As long as you respect me tomorrow morning,” Stiles says, using his hold on Derek’s torso to wedge himself closer. “And as long you can give me a ride back to my house where we will tell my dad all about the sex we didn’t have.”
Derek laughs. Stiles counts the entire night as a win.