potosi | and I know the call of my unborn sons colors all I've done.

[It's the Disney pictures he stops on, taking the one with Laura first in his hands and turning it over. Stiles can barely remember her--she worked in the precinct with his dad for a while, and she was nice, always shared her lunch with Stiles if he asked nicely enough, but she'd died before he could really get to know her beyond that. She looks like her brother, and as he sets it down again, he snorts over the mickey mouse ears, smile on his face fond as he brushes his thumb over Derek's face. It brings back his own memories; running across Disneyland on his dad's shoulders to meet Peter Pan, his mom and dad in matching ears. It's a nice thought if a little melancholy, and Stiles squats a little to get a look at the other one. He makes a mental note to go on a roadtrip to Disneyland with the Hale clan, chuckling a little to himself as he starts to stand up again.

Setting down the frame, he glances over his shoulder as if to snoop again, and jumps about half a foot, not expecting Derek to be there.]

--Christ, you've got to stop doing that.

Your reactions are too priceless, though.

[ Derek smirks softly, swaying forward and closing the door behind him. Eventually, he knows that Stiles will get used to his sudden appearances and silent lurking, but he's going to enjoy the surprise while he still can. It's just hilarious. He comes closer, looking down at the pictures, and his expression softens further for a second. He wishes he had more pictures of his family, but they all burned up in the fire.

At least he has these, and the ones in safe keeping in albums in the attic.

With a huff, he reaches to pull his shirt over his head in one, smooth motion. Rather than drop it on the floor, he tosses it into a hamper by the the master bathroom door. Rolling his neck and shoulders, he looks back to Stiles. ]

You'll get used to it eventually.

Edited 2013-01-25 05:06 (UTC)

Or you could just like actually stop, out of consideration or a less finely honed sense of sadism. [Rolling his eyes, he pushes away from the dresser and...

Well, he'd like to stay he didn't blatantly stare. But honestly, after all that just happened downstairs, Stiles has probably earned some staring at Derek and his twelve freakin' abs and his perfect everything. He at least tries to be smooth about it, but it doesn't exactly work, and he tries to transition his once over into a stare at the ceiling, rocking backwards on his heels and tugging down the shirt. Aside from the fact that it's a little too big around his chest, it's a decent fit. Definitely pajamas he's probably going to keep forever.

Jerking his head away to keep from doing anything particularly stupid, Stiles makes his way over to the bed and sits down, leaning back on his hands.] You pull off the mousketeer flawlessly.

Mm, no.

[ Neither oblivious nor stupid, Derek snorts as Stiles conducts his once over. But he doesn't comment on it, and instead goes back to getting undressed. He empties his pockets, contents going onto the dresser before he unthreads his belt from his jeans. Usually his process isn't this slow, but he's quite possibly doing this on purpose right now.

He pauses as he rolls his belt, looking at the pictures again. ]

Laura insisted until I agreed to wear them. It's been tradition ever since. Sort of doomed myself that first trip.

[Yep, still staring. Stiles isn't stupid, either, and he can tell that Derek's doing this on purpose. So, hey. If he's gonna put on a show, he probably needs an audience. And Stiles is definitely a willing audience. Granted, he should probably stop thinking about this before Derek can practically smell it on him, so he curls his fingers in the sheets under his hands and tries to focus on a topic that isn't Derek's ridiculously good looking everything.

(Thinking that that ridiculously good looking person/wolf/greek god descended from earth wanted to kiss Stiles was kind of exciting, and also, definitely not helping.)]

Man, my dad and I saved up and got season passes last year. Next time, I'm so coming with. I have to see that in person. [After a minute, he adds, eyes crinkling in a smile.] Mine's got my name on the back.

Your real name or your nickname?

[ Derek says it conversationally, but he's known Stiles' real name since he was under Melissa's care. Not that he's ever told anyone that, he just made the connection when Scott told him about Mr. Stilinski and it went from there. He's saving the reveal for when it'll be most amusing.

He sets his belt aside and undoes his jeans, pulling them off calmly and folding them once he's down to his boxer briefs. Sure, he's doing it on purpose, but Stiles is staring. He's going to give him something to actually stare at. Besides, he needs to find some pants to put on. With an absent hum, he goes through his drawers to pick a pair.

He doesn't seem intent on putting a shirt on. ]

Yeah, because I'm definitely going to wear a hat with my real name on it for the world to see. [He answers that with a derisive snort, almost rolling his eyes. It's a stupid question, but it's also a stupid question that makes him suspicious.

Luckily, he can't consider it for long, because then Derek's got no pants on, either, and Stiles is seriously reconsidering the whole "wait for a while, we just kissed like thirty minutes ago for the first time ever" mantra that was going through his head. In fact, it was starting to turn into "how would Derek react if you climbed him like a tree in the next ten minutes" instead.

Really, really not conducive. God damn it. Boxer briefs are God's best/worst invention.

Sitting up, he crosses his arms over his lap, but keeps his gaze forward. Definitely conspicuous. Super conspicuous.]

[ Totally, Stiles. And he definitely can't smell that, either.

Turning fully, Derek shuts the drawer are he selects a pair of pants. He leans against the dresser, unfolding the pants calmly as he considers the sarcastic comment. It's easier than thinking on whether or not he should stick to similar thoughts. They have basically been dating for months now, never mind the kiss and the heat behind it earlier.

But they should probably avoid anything more than that. (Even though he's questioning the merits of it in his head. Yes, that person/wolf/Greek god did very much want to kiss Stiles. Among other things.)

He starts to pull the pants on, sort of glad they at least didn't stay downstairs. ]

[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.

Christ.]

[ A loud snort leaves him as Stiles puts the pillow in his lap, and Derek settles his hands on the dresser behind him, leaning and laughing quietly. It's a little bit mean, but it's hilarious, he can't help it. That's so not smooth, Stiles. At all. Inclining his head towards him, a little grin on his face.

He caused it, sure, but still. He didn't think it'd have such an outstanding effect on him. That's definitely something he'll keep in mind for later (because he's sure there'll be a later, at this rate). ]

You okay there?

[ E Y E R O L L ]

Oh shut up.

[ Pushing off the dresser, Derek strides over to him calmly before leaning down into his space, head cocked and eyes briefly flashing in the dim light of the room. ]

Make me.

[There's a moment of silence, just a couple seconds, as Stiles catches the slight red of his eyes. His mouth twists into a grin as he realizes whats going on and like a loaded spring, he shifts forward and kisses him, hard, putting both his hands in his hair and kissing the everloving hell out of him.

Generally, Stiles was the one getting shut up. It was kind of nice to return the favor.]

[ To be fair, Derek's figured out this is a fairly effective way to shut Stiles up now. Even if it's only temporary.

Here, though, now that he's been appropriately baited, he threads his fingers through the thick hair at the back of his head and kisses back just as hard. With an easy shift, he puts a knee on the bed and pushes forward, using his weight to tip them back. This is probably a bit much, but he can't find it in himself to care. ]

[Stiles goes with him immediately, his back hitting the bed with a soft thump. On the inside he's pretty much celebrating, and it's only being smothered by the other, much more pressing feeling of holding Derek in the kiss above him. Shifting his leg up to get more comfortable, Stiles drags one of the hands from his hair down Derek's back, sitting up in a curve, just enough to keep a firm amount of control on the kiss.

If he wanted to, Derek could completely overpower him. Stiles just knows he won't. (And that's part of the reason why this--all of this, not just the making out, although that's pretty awesome too, is amazing.)]

and I know the call of my unborn sons colors all I've done.

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