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

It was one of my coworkers that suggested it. The boys just grabbed onto it and wouldn't let go after that. They did try to talk me into Wolverine for this year, though.

[ Setting his beer down next to Stiles, Derek holds a hand up to signal he'll be back. It's only a second, anyways, as he goes into the living room and retrieves a book from one of the shelves. It's not the only photo album they have, but most of the others are in the attic or Derek's room.

He brings it back, stopping in front of Stiles and stepping close to offer it to him. His knees almost press into his stomach, with what little space there is. ]

[Lighting up at the sweet, sweet taste of victory, Stiles leans back against the cabinet, watching Derek peter off into the living room and taking a sip from his beer. As he brings make the pictures, he crows a loud] Now we're talking!

[--before reaching out to take the book, leaning forward just as Derek does. They're in each other's space, and while it's been pretty normal for them since day one, after all that time--all those things that had gone by today? It makes his heart speed up, stupidly, and Stiles swallows to try and slow it down again as he opens the book on his knees, still grinning.

The pictures are awesome. He can't help the snort.] Oh my God, it's perfect. Literally perfect.

[ He'd be a poor excuse of a werewolf if he missed the change in Stiles' heartbeat, but Derek opts not to comment on it. Instead, he reaches and gets his beer again, taking a drink and snorting softly at the response the pictures get. He even shaved his facial hair for the costume, which pretty much everyone had gotten a kick out of.

But rather than look at the pictures with Stiles, he's looking at him, watching him go through the album. It's got everything from when Isaac joined their family up to that year, spread out with how rarely Derek himself takes pictures.

That doesn't change the fact that there's a few, towards the end, of Stiles himself. ] I wouldn't say it's perfect, but I was pretty popular.

Clearly you're not lacking in the Stark ego. [Mouth twitching up into a smile, Stiles shakes his head, turning the pages beyond the halloween costumes.

For a family that can't really take pictures--at least not with flash--there are a lot of them, carefully documented. It's the side of Derek that Stiles has gotten to know beyond the terrifying wolf from the first day they met. The loving, kind of dorky, ridiculously attractive, brilliant father that he was to his two kids. By the time he reaches the end, his smile has softened, even as his eyebrows grow up at a picture of him.]

I remember this! When we took the boys to the waterpark. [He grins at the picture, folding his thumb over it, himself with his arms thrown around both Isaac and Scott, all three of them smiling like morons--his gaze falls finally on one of himself with Scott, both of them fast asleep on the couch, Scott on his chest. That makes an embarrassed flush go up to his cheeks, and he draws his gaze upwards, mouth a little open.]

When did you take that?

Thankfully I'm lacking in the alcoholism. [ It seems a little hypocritical to be drinking his beer after saying that, but alcoholism is expensive in general. Throw in lycanism? Should damn well hope that you're loaded.

Derek is maybe a little anxious as Stiles goes through the pictures, but mostly he's just patiently amused, waiting for when he gets to the end where he starts showing up. Of course there's so very few of the murderpapa, enough so that he and the nosy human are about matched by the end. A smile quirks asst the corner of his mouth when he first shows up, and he watches his reaction.

It grows a touch behind his beer as he sees the one of him and Scott sleeping, and cracks into a soft grin at the flush. ] Not that long ago.

[It's a good picture, that much is undeniable. Stiles isn't photogenic--if anything, he's the guy in the back with an eye half closed and generally looking like he's on something. But this is different. Sure, he looks like a moron, but Stiles pretty much always looks like a moron when he's asleep, mouth wide open and drooling and probably, let's be honest, talking to himself, but it looks like...

Well, it looks like it was taken with care for more than just Scott.

Mouth falling into a small, pleased smile, he brushes his thumb across the picture, trying to hide his embarrassment with an awkward bob of his head.]

Sorry for falling asleep on your couch all the time.

[God.]

I don't think the couch minds. [ An absent bit of teasing, but Derek figures Stiles probably needs that first, before he says what else came to mind. For a moment, he looks down at the familiar image of Stiles on his couch, looking maybe less than attractive by most standards. But there's something endearing about it. That his sons are comfortable enough to join him at times, that Stiles himself feels safe in the wolf's den. That he's somehow weaseled his way in to the point that said wolf even finds him drooling on his couch endearing in the first place.

He shrugs, angling his head a little to catch Stiles' eye. ]

And it's not exactly like it's a huge chore to move you to a bed. [ Both of his brows raise. ] Which I'm pretty sure doesn't mind, either.

Edited 2013-01-24 04:28 (UTC)

It doesn't?

[If that's not a loaded sentence, nothing is and Stiles takes a minute to realize what actually just came out of his mouth.

Christ.

He wasn't crazy. He knew he wasn't crazy. Stiles could pick up on signs--he'd been so desperate for them from Lydia for so long that he was an expert on seeing them. You don't need heightened senses to pick up a feeling from someone. Just to look in the right places. But if you combined his smarts with his own denial and insecurities it made those supposed assurances feel like nothing.

He does manage to look him in the eyes when he says it, though. At least Stiles can follow through on things when they escape from his chronic foot in mouth syndrome.]

No, Stiles. It doesn't.

[ Stiles is a fascinating study-- from fearless fear in the face of danger, to the way that he talks with his entire body at all times, to the different twists in his smiles, and how he just doesn't back down-- but the one thing Derek's still trying to place is the doubt. He doesn't completely have the puzzle that Stiles presents down yet, but this is one piece he doesn't know what to do with.

He reaches to set his bottle on the counter, before resting his hands on either side of Stiles' hips. Considering him up close, he tilts his head in that wolfish way he does. ]

The couch doesn't, the bed doesn't. The boys definitely don't, and neither do I.

So long's the house doesn't, I'm on a roll. [He can't help the stupid comments that come out of his mouth, either, or the fact that his heartbeat ratchets up yet again, this time for an entirely different reason. Stiles is used to Derek being in his space. He's not quite sure if he's used to it like this.

(Or if he'll ever get used to it, if it keeps happening. And he's not really sure if he ever wants to be used to it. He'd rather keep enjoying it every time.)

When Derek cocks his head, his eyes flicker down to his mouth for half a second before coming back up, meeting his stare. His mind's already formulating about six different ends to this, but his hormones have settled on one, and God, if it doesn't happen in about ten seconds, he's about to initiate it himself.

Maybe.

If he can't work up the courage, he'll have to leave.]

[ As he picks up on the changes in Stiles, Derek reflects on the night they just had. All the blatant flirting, the close proximity to one another, what was said. He considers how far they've come since that first night in the woods, years after the fire and even more since Melissa babysat a young Stiles. All that progress from thinking Stiles a possible threat, into whatever this can be called.

Friends, maybe.

He's pretty sure there's more to it. He just doesn't know what label to put on it.

Listening to Stiles' heart, he watches his eyes flick to his mouth before back up again. It's a reminder that he spent much of the night trying to look at anything but Stiles' own mouth. Now, he does, almost contemplatively. It's a little awful how distracting he's found Stiles' mouth to be, and idle thoughts that have popped up only to run wild.

He figures he should indulge in one of them, leaning in the rest of the way to kiss him. ]

[Any and all of the tension in Stiles' shoulders snaps out in seconds, but it takes the rest of his body (and god forbid, his mind) time to react. The initial surprise gives way to what feels like a million different nerves suddenly being resolved, and it practically makes him go boneless--but it's for a snap second before he reacts again, pushing forward and sliding his arms around his shoulders.

His own methods at being smooth during the night had more or less failed--honest to god--]

...this whole thing was a date. [He says it quietly against his mouth, not willing to pull away, but that doesn't exactly stop him from talking about it.] You've even been paying for my meals for ages, oh my God we've been dating for like six months. [Now he pulls away, laughing stupidly.]

[ Patient for Stiles' reaction, Derek brings his hands up once Stiles puts his arms around his shoulders. One settles at the side of his neck, the other rests at his waist as he lets his own tension leave him. It's not much, but overall he simply relaxes. Which is something he's noticed himself doing more and more of around this stupid human that barged into his life. ]

You've basically been living in my house for five. [ Rather than let him get too far, though, he leans after him to steal another, though quicker, kiss. ] I swear to god I keep finding your stuff everywhere.

I leave a trail of destruction wherever I go. You let me barge in here with craft supplies and you--mfft--were doomed. For the record, you're the one who invited me in. [Not even the quick kiss is enough to shut him up completely, and he crosses his wrist over Derek's back, giddy and kind of stupid with the fact that this is actually happening right now.

It doesn't mean he can't tease him though, they wouldn't be the same without it, and he murmurs] Worst goodnight kiss ever. That was like a 2. [But he's grinning like a little shit, pretty much disproving his point, but. You know.]

There's glitter everywhere, even in places you've never brought in crafts. [ The temptation to bite him for the goodnight kiss is there, but instead Derek cants his head again and brushes their noses together for a brief second. After, he starts to lean back in--

--before pulling back completely out of his reach, an entirely inappropriate grin on his face. Ass. ]

Time for bed, then. A goodnight kiss is a goodnight kiss. [ He takes the album from Stiles' lap, calm as can be. ]

[...really.]

In case you weren't sure, I totally grew out of ""bedtime"" [airquotes included.] about ten years ago.

[The thoughts that follow practically put themselves in a flowchart in Stiles' head. 1. Snark. 2. Impulse. 3. Attempt at a kiss. 4. Derek Hale's Bed.

It takes two seconds for him to make his less than educated decision, and he slides off the counter as if he's going to go along with it, but darts forward, grabs Derek's cheeks, and pulls him in for another kiss. Stiles can so play along with this, thank you.]

Could fool me some days.

[ Though Stiles might not notice it, Derek braces himself pretty much immediately, knowing better than to think that he's not going to do something in retribution. There are a few different thoughts that occur to him, so he's wary when he seems to go along with it. The kiss isn't too surprising, but he has to remind himself not to just drop the album in his hand.

Thankfully, he sets it on the counter as he steps into the kiss, not stopping until he can crowd and pin Stiles back against the fridge. Once he feels the bump, he brings his hands up to frame his face, more than happy to up that 'goodnight kiss' from a two into something much higher. ]

[Oh.

Oh. Oh well, uh, okay then.

He's had Derek manhandle him about a million times but never quite like this, and Stiles is more than okay with it. His arms come up to snake around Derek's torso, fingers clutching in his leather jacket, and he kisses him back with just as much intensity as he's given, only shifting enough to plant his feet against the fridge and pull Derek as close as he can.

Stiles mentally has to tell himself he's not dreaming. ~~Not that he's dreamed about this before or anything.~~]

[ Derek goes easily as he's pulled close, a major difference compared to his stubborn resistance in the past. If he doesn't want to go somewhere, he's not going to go without a lot of force. Here, though, he presses close to Stiles, pinning him with his weight and warmth though he knows that he's not about to go anywhere.

But the feeling is there, and in the kiss-- he doesn't want Stiles to go anywhere. After the early weeks and months of aggression and distrust, of keeping distance between them, it's an even greater testament to the change between them.

As he finally pulls back from the kiss, he takes Stiles' lower lip in a quick nip, finally giving in to the temptation he's had for a while now. It's a good temporary end to the kiss, though he'll deny the rumble that leaves him. ]

Edited (s2g swype AS NOT ADD) 2013-01-25 02:38 (UTC)

[It's hard to admit that he's completely and totally dazed by the kiss, but. Holy frickin god, that was daze-worthy. It takes a few seconds for Stiles to catch back up, mentally, and when he opens his eyes, it's slow. He definitely shot up to about an eleven on that scale from earlier. Stiles' arms are still wrapped tight around Derek, pressed up chest to chest, hip to hip, and it's warm and amazing and jesus christ he's not sixteen years old anymore, you think he'd know how to handle this. ]

Oh my Gooddd, no, that's the exact opposite of what I wanted.

[When Derek pulls away he practically moans his complaint and clutches his fingers tighter in the back of his shirt, keeping him close. Okay, he's just whining, but he deserves to whine. That was awesome.]

Edited 2013-01-25 03:05 (UTC)

My kids are upstairs. [ He nips at Stiles' mouth, though, the rumble in his voice and chest, and doesn't try to pull any further away. Truth be told, Derek doesn't feel like dealing with their smugness if they decide to come downstairs in the middle of this. It's not that he worries about how they'd react to catching their dad in the middle of something with another person-- because werewolf packs have no modesty or privacy.

As his fingers curl against his neck, he can't resist kissing him again. When he first thought of kissing Stiles, he had a feeling this would be a problem. It's a little bit addicting. ] They're precocious and have bad timing.

[Stiles rolls his eyes, but it's good-natured, and he drags his arms up around Derek's shoulders. He goes through the same exact thought process--it's not that Isaac and Scott'll be freaked out (maybe a little scarred for life, every kid had that experience once in their life), but that he's sure they'll come down the stairs at exactly the right time. Or wrong. Probably wrong.]

That bed still not minding me or do I have to sleep in the guest room?

[Stiles' mouth slides into a grin, even at the second kiss, and he raises his eyebrows at him. As much as he'd like to continue making out in Derek's kitchen, he's probably right.

Not to mention a bed's more comfortable anyway.]

[ Huffing a quiet laugh, Derek draws his hands down along Stiles' neck as he kisses him one last time, then pulls back. It's slow and unwillingly, but he slips out of Stiles' grasp and nod his head back towards the foyer and thus the stairs. ]

Go on. I need to check the house.

[ Habits are hard to break, especially when they tie into his protective instincts. Even in the face of going upstairs with Stiles, he's not going to skip out on routine. True, a locked house stands no chance against most supernatural, but it does give them some amount of warning. Same with human risks. ]

Yes, dad. [Rolling his eyes, he pulls back from the kiss with an amused smile on his face, letting his arms fall to the side before he starts to make his way towards the stairs. Stiles pauses on the banister and glances back over his shoulder for a minute, watching Derek retreat; it takes a while for him to move again, and when he does, he scrambles to the master bedroom, shuts the door, and throws his arms up in the air in a spastic motion of victory.]

Yessssssssss---yesyesyesyesyes. [He's trying to stay quiet because the boys are asleep, probably, but he doesn't take in to factor werewolf hearing. Instead, Stiles just celebrates. Because he's only been waiting for that for ages. By the time he's finished his victory ~~flail~~ dance, Stiles slides over to the dresser and opens one of the drawers, pushing aside a few of his own plaid shirts (when did those get there?) and tugging his t-shirt over his head, dropping it to the side and kicking out of his pants. Eventually, he settles on a beaten up gray henley and pulls it on, reveling in the smell for half a second and digging around for a pair of pajama pants.

To be honest, a part of him is surprised that Derek even owns pajamas. Guy looks like he'd sleep in his jacket or nothing. Mmm, naked Derek.

Okay, wait, getting off that train of thought, Stiles considers getting into bed--naturally, his curiosity gets the better of him, instead, and he starts to look around the room.]

[ Shrugging out of his jacket as he goes, Derek hangs it up on the doorknob of the hall closet as he checks the front door. Locked. The windows are all next, as he makes sure all the lights are turned off as well. (It's then that he hears movement upstairs, along with Stiles' voice, though muffled. He snorts.) Toeing his shoes off on his circuit back to the kitchen, he leaves them at the gathering of other shoes near the door, listening to the rest of the house and the woods outside.

Kitchen door locked, beer bottles taken care of, he peers into the garage before locking the door out there, too. Once he's satisfied with the downstairs, he climbs the stairs in absolute silence. By this point, as he checks in on the boys and the upstairs, Stiles will get to see his room. There's pictures on the dresser, of a younger Derek and his sister at the station, of him at school with Scott asleep in his back carrier and wolf eared hat. Then, older, with Isaac on his shoulders looking pleased with himself.

The centerpieces, though, are the two pictures with mouse eared hats featured. One is a teenaged Derek holding Scott on his shoulders and Laura beaming at the camera. The other is fairly recent, one boy seated on each arm and smiling all dimples.

They're really the only personal things openly on display. Otherwise, the room is fairly neat and simple, clothes put away and everything organized.

Derek doesn't say anything as he opens the door, just crosses his arms and leans against the frame. ]

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god damn that icon

and this one?

swoons

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