When Derek started dating Stiles, he knew that it would involve more than one encounter with Stiles’ friends. There’s something about that tightly knit group that goes beyond Just Friends, but Derek thinks that calling it soulmates is probably too much. Except, Stiles and Scott are a positive feedback loop and when one idea gets into one of them, the other is not only going to follow, but feed into it until we’ve never been to a concert together turns into let’s go to fucking Coachella and make it an Experience and now Derek is watching from the co-pilot seat as Stiles fixes whatever new hiccup his ancient jeep has thrown at them.
His phone vibrates with an upcoming message, can you tell Stiles to hurry? We’ll get a terrible spot if we’re late.
“Stiles, your more annoying half says you need to hurry,” he deadpans.
“See, when you call Scott that, it only makes me think you thought I was annoying when we met.”
“You were annoying when we met.”
There’s a pause before Stiles continues, “so, what made you change your mind?”
Derek waits until Stiles closes the hood of the car and slides back into his seat, “who said I did?”
“Oh, you love me. You’ve been sitting in a half-functioning car with me for 5 hours. With no air conditioning. That’s gotta be love or something.”
Derek rolls his eyes and looks out the window. He does love Stiles, they’ve said that to each other enough times for it not to be a big deal. It still feels like a big deal to him though, who is still getting used to being loved by someone who doesn’t want to gut him.
As if he were able to hear his thoughts spiraling, Stiles reaches across the dash and grabs his hand, bringing it to his mouth and giving him a quick kiss. Derek doesn’t blush, but he ducks his head anyway just in case. Stiles only smiles as he lets go of Derek’s hand.
Their moment is broken when Scott honks loud and annoying enough times to get the attention of other drivers passing them by. Stiles takes his phone from the dash he threw it on when the car malfunctioned and types a quick reply. They’re back on the road in less than 5 minutes, the traffic getting worse and worse the closer they get and Derek already wishes it was over by now.
The thing about festivals is that no matter how much you plan to stay with your group, if you are a fan who wants to be close to the performers in any way, you will lose half of your group within a minute of saying guys, let’s move a bit closer. That’s why you’re supposed to set a meeting point that everyone can find. After 10 minutes of standing alone next to the utility pole they’d agreed on, Derek started to wander around. Not too far, but it was worrisome that no one else showed up. They agreed to meet here specifically because Stiles wanted to get a halloumi sandwich—which Derek had already bought for him and carried around as he waited for him.
When he finally spots Stiles, some guy is there hugging him as if they’re best friends. Derek’s pretty sure, he’d recognize Scott or even Isaac, not this stranger. It makes something loud and ugly twist inside his stomach. The three-headed monster of insecurity, jealousy and abandonment issues rears its head and threatens to cause a scene, but he knows Stiles and he knows whoever this stranger is, he doesn’t need to be removed from the premises immediately.
Knowing and feeling are two different things though.
He starts to walk in their direction when Stiles’ eyes catch him and his smile grows. He tells something to the guy, who turns around with an easy smile towards Derek —his mustache styled in what can only be defined as obnoxious hipster, Derek notes—, and by the time he gets to them, Derek feels like he’s got nothing to say. What was there even to say? The guy barely hugged Stiles for a few seconds, there’s nothing to be jealous about.
“You okay, babe?” Derek is not one for pet names, but the possessive asshole in him is trying to find a way to show this mustache guy that Stiles is not alone here.
Stiles’ eyes look comically large at that, but a small, complicit smile blooms when he realizes what Derek is doing.
“Hey, Derek, this is Tino. We met first year of college, then he dropped out to become a DJ. Tino, this is my boyfriend Derek.”
The guy, Tino, smiles wider, “bow chick-a bow wow, Stiles. You really hit the jackpot in the boyfriend department.”
Derek tries not to preen at that.
“What do you have there?” Stiles asks.
“You wanted halloumi,” is all he says, pushing the sandwich his way.
Stiles’ smile is bigger than it was before. He unwraps the sandwich as Tino says his goodbyes, but before taking a bite, he turns to Derek: “were you jealous?”
“Of Tino ?” he makes sure to put enough emphasis in it that it’s not suspicious.
“Can you blame him? His parents named him Valentino, for fucks’ sake! Val is not as casual as– hey, that was not the question. Come on, were you?”
Derek decides that no answer is better than any answer and turns to the illuminated path to make his way back to the cars.
“Hey, hey, Derek, come on. I’m not gonna mock you, I just wanna know if that was your jealous face.”
“What is a jealous face?”
“Y’know,” he says in between bites, “the one people make when their insides are boiling.”
“My insides were not boiling. I know you, Stiles. I trust you. You can go hug any old college friends,” he pauses as he watches Stiles swallow a giant bite of his food. “And I know you’re tragically monogamous .”
Stiles, having swallowed his bite, smiles at the memory. Back when they started dating, a lot of Stiles’ classmates proposed threesomes to him and every single time he’d reply I’m sorry but I am tragically monogamous and I don’t share .
They walk together until Stiles stops abruptly “we didn’t wait for the guys.”
He takes out his phone and sends a text, to Scott supposedly, though maybe Allison or Isaac would be better at replying. After a few seconds, his phone chimes with a reply. “They’re going to the rave. Do we wanna go to the rave?”
“You wanna go to a rave?” Derek asks, incredulous.
“Well, I wanna see if it’s true what they say about raves and drugs.”
As they dance, lost in the tempo of the music, Derek realizes this is probably the most fun he’s had in ages. For the first time in forever, he doesn’t feel sad, he doesn’t feel void of any emotion but pain. The only times when he feels like that is when Stiles is next to him, smiling happily at him from the other side of the bed, smiling from the co-pilot seat or right now, laughing at nothing, eyes blown by MDMA. Derek wonders if that’s how he looks as well but it’s easier to let himself float in the sensations that surround him than anything else.
He startles when Stiles takes his hand, and Stiles’ response is to immediately let it go, coming closer to him and asking “are you okay?”
He can’t find the words to reply, but he nods. He doesn’t feel bad or trapped or anything like that, but the amount of stimuli is getting to be on this side of too much.
Stiles, in his apparently infinite knowledge of Derek’s moods, says loud enough to be heard wanna get out of here? to which Derek also replies with a nod.
Outside, the cool air of the desert night hits them like a living thing. Stiles unties the shirt he’s wearing around his waist and gives it to Derek.
“You’ll get cold,” Derek says.
Stiles shakes his head, “I’m fine and you’ve never done molly. I’m still waiting on you to panic.”
“I don’t panic.”
“You could.”
“But I haven’t”
“But you could, so humor me for the walk back to the camp at least.”
Derek, whose own t-shirt is stuck to his body due to all the sweat, puts on Stiles’ smaller shirt on top and feels surrounded by his smell. Maybe this is all he needs to feel whole again. A reminder that he’s not alone, he doesn’t have to be alone anymore.
“You got very introspective there. Whatcha thinking about?”
“You,” he says. Apparently molly is good at removing his filter as well.
Stiles smiles. “What about me?”
“I’m glad we met, Stiles. I’m glad I don’t have to be alone anymore.”
Stiles’ smile gets a little watery, but before he can say anything, Derek offers his hand and says, “do you wanna go make out in the car until sunrise?”
“Yes. Always. God, why aren’t we moving faster?”
Derek laughs and lets Stiles lead them to his car. The tent looks empty, but instead of tempting fate and walking in on their naked friends, Stiles folds the copilot seat down and makes good on his promise to kiss until sunrise comes.
His body gets another idea though.
Kissing Stiles always feels good, but kissing when they’re both on molly? That’s a different thing entirely. He can feel every point where they’re touching, burning with desire and he wants more.
“Stiles,” he pants against his mouth.
“Hmm?” Stiles hums as his lips drag down Derek’s throat. Every nerve ending in his body lights up when Stiles sucks a hickey on his throat, marking him, then using his tongue to lap at the tender spot.
“Your lips feel amazing,” he lets his head fall back to the seat, sighing in pleasure.
Stiles chuckles against his throat, the sound vibrating through his skin, causing ripples through his body that felt like a giant nerve exposed to the elements.
“I want to do more than kissing,” Derek whispers, breath coming uneven already.
“Is that so?” Stiles’ hand wanders from the side of his face, down his chest and stops when it hits his jeans. Derek is nodding at Stiles, but as usual, he says, “come on, babe . Let me hear it.”
Derek’s reminded of the pet name he used earlier and he thinks he likes it when Stiles uses it. He’d let Stiles call him whatever he wants right now.
“Yes, Stiles, I want you to.”
Stiles kisses him first, an openmouthed thing that threatens to swallow him whole, dripping with desire. Derek meets him halfway, giving as good as he gets, a kiss that could shatter the world, blinding in its intensity.
He wonders how much of that intensity was him and what was enhanced, but it didn’t matter, all he wanted was to feel Stiles’ hands on him, to feel Stiles’ breath against his mouth, to feel Stiles’ skin against his own. To feel Stiles in whatever way possible.
Stiles’ hand undid his zipper slowly, maddeningly so, and took his sweet time palming Derek through his boxers. Stiles teases him running two fingers along his length, taking extra time as he hardens. He does so until Derek’s dick is leaking, his boxers a mess of precome that Stiles slips down until he finally touches Derek’s heavy cock.
He sets a slow rhythm, stroking Derek softly, using his own precome to moisten the palm of his hand to avoid the friction of dry skin. Derek’s already so aroused that the most delicate of touches could’ve tipped him over the edge, but Stiles is careful, stroking softly, squeezing at the base of his dick when Derek moans that he’s close.
Derek doesn’t know when Stiles moved, but suddenly the lips that worked a hickey down his throat are kissing his stomach, following the dark trail of hair until he’s nosing the base of his cock, breathing in and Derek’s never seen anything hotter than that. Except when Stiles runs his tongue along his length. That might be a better view.
His hips buck when Stiles mouth finally swallows him whole, no finesse at all, and Stiles makes a gagging sound. Derek’s about to pull out, but his boyfriend pushes his hips down and bobs his head up and down, taking control. He throws his head back biting a moan that threatens to slip out. Derek’s not going to last much longer.
Seeing Stiles’ pink mouth when he dares to look down is what tips him over the edge. He mumbles a warning, but Stiles sucks his cheeks in and Derek is coming down his throat. Stiles keeps sucking until his dick becomes over sensitive and he hisses.
Stiles sits back up and wipes the side of his face where saliva and come mixed to make a mess. He looks at Derek as if searching for something. Derek, who cannot make words right now, grabs him by the neck and pushes his lips against Stiles’, kissing him open mouthed, tasting himself on Stiles’ tongue.
When he comes up for air, he touches his forehead to Stiles’. “God, I’m in love with you.”
“That good?” asks Stiles, a smile on his face.
“Shut up.”
Stiles laughs and pushes Derek back to lay next to him —almost on top of him, to be honest—, where he settles with his head on Derek’s chest.
“I am in love with you,” says Derek once they’re settled.
“Good. Me too. We can go about telling the world tomorrow, let’s sleep now.”
After the day they’ve had, Derek believes he deserves it, so he closes his eyes, happy in the knowledge that his boyfriend is right there with him.