[He probably should be glad, considering Stiles is practically wafting hormones. And it's embarrassing, because he knows that Derek can smell it, he knows he can tell, and he sneakily reaches for a pillow and pulls it on his lap. He's okay. Totally smooth.
Stiles watches him tug on his pants for a minute, contemplative and quiet, almost mourning the loss of his butt in those pants and turning his gaze innocently towards the ceiling. Think not Derek related thoughts. Lydia. No, think not Lydia related thoughts. Think something disgusting. Something that isn't Derek frickin' Hale who's been practically dating him for months. In reality, it probably wouldn't be wrong, he could just...No, okay. These are not helping. Cold shower thoughts.
no subject
Stiles watches him tug on his pants for a minute, contemplative and quiet, almost mourning the loss of his butt in those pants and turning his gaze innocently towards the ceiling. Think not Derek related thoughts. Lydia. No, think not Lydia related thoughts. Think something disgusting. Something that isn't Derek frickin' Hale who's been practically dating him for months. In reality, it probably wouldn't be wrong, he could just...No, okay. These are not helping. Cold shower thoughts.
Christ.]