potosi | we're bigger than we've ever dreamed

[ Stiles stares at him for a minute, his brown eyes huge and wet and searching his entire face in just the scant distance between them. Derek, his Derek, who was too stubborn to get a Facebook page until Stiles practically begged him to, who had a stronger bond with his cat than most people had with their children, who mowed the lawn shirtless and snored right in Stiles' ear when he was particularly exhausted. His Derek, who he might have never seen again, had the circumstances been wrong.

But they were lucky. They were so, so lucky, and Derek was here, his stubble real against Stiles' hands, and he thumbs at it with his cheek for a second, then lets out a delirious laugh of his own before he pulls him and presses his mouth to his, much to the delight of the crowd behind them. ]

[ Securing his arms even tighter around Stiles as he pulls him in to kiss him, Derek leans into it immediately, fingers curling in his hair. He wants to put his hands everywhere, to reassure himself that he's not dreaming this, that he's not in a bunk or knocked out in the midst of a desert. Because it's just been so long since he could have this, could have Stiles, and the thought that he could lose this was what really killed him. What had him hesitating.

But he was back now, and he really didn't want to go anywhere again. Arm shifting where it's around his middle, he slides his fingers underneath his layers to touch the skin of Stiles' hip, just seeking out the warmth of his skin and further soothing that ache away. The fact there's people clapping-- and crying-- behind them doesn't register. It's just Stiles, and he smiles against his mouth without even thinking about it. ]

[ He should probably detach himself from Derek, explain what just happened to his curious students, who are looking at him like he's completely lost his mind, but Stiles kind of feels like he has, a little bit. He smiles so hard it makes his cheeks hurt and shakes his head, cupping Derek's face in his hands again and pulling away from the kiss, nothing but warmth and affection (and probably tears, to be honest) in his brown eyes.

Luckily, before he can get too worried about his kids, one of the teachers steps up just as he's actually detaching himself, to a point, sliding back to his feet and wiping the tears from his face. He talks with her for a minute, accepts a warm hug from her and turns to his kids, squatting down to get with them on a personal level, while Talia monkeys her way up Derek's arm and buries her face in his chest. ] You guys remember Colonel Hale, right?

[ There's a chorus of yeahs, and he nods, sniffling a little. ] Col. Hale's been gone from Beacon Hills for a whole year, and you guys remember how important he is to me.

[ More nodding. One young girl says something about the picture of on his desk, one of he and Derek at the military ball last year, and he laughs at their penchant for the embarrassing and nods. ] Yeah. So Ms. Thompson is gonna teach the last hour of class today, okay? I'm gonna go and welcome the colonel home.

[ His smile's threatening to break off his face at this point, and the chorus of "awww, but mr. stiles"'s that come from his students cumulate in a pretty epic group hug. His eyes flick back at Derek for just a second before he gives the last boy, a shy kid named Daniel, a ruffle of his hair and stands up, then reaches for Derek's hand. ]

[ A very, very big part of him doesn't want to let go of Stiles. He's this perfect weight in his arms, where he's practically wrapped around him and attached like a burr. But Derek lets him pull back, clear green-gold bright and focused on those damn bambi eyes of his. He resists reaching to brush his thumbs over his cheeks, and instead slowly loosens his grip to let him resettle on his feet so he can actually get things done.

Gathering his niece up in his arms, he buries his face against her hair and rumbles something quiet to her. While Stiles addresses his colleague, then his students, he just carries on a muted conversation with Talia, soothing her tears the same as he had when he still climbed into the crib to let Laura and John have an actual night of rest after she was born. At least this time it's out of excitement, not... every little thing babies cry about.

That doesn't mean he isn't listening to the kids around them, and he can't help but grin a little more against the dark sweep of Talia's hair as they continue to embarrass their teacher. To be fair, though, that's one of his favorite pictures of them-- especially considering how much Stiles likes that damn uniform.

Adjusting his grip on the tiny bundle attached to him, he slowly kneels down so that he can ease her back to her feet. ] C'mon, Tallulah. We'll have all day to play tomorrow, I promise.

[ With a kiss to her forehead and one last squeeze, he stands as Stiles finishes his rather impressive group hug. It's just in time for him to meet his fingers, roughened callouses smoothing over his palm until he can take his hand and entwine their fingers together. There's a little pull, aiming to draw him closer, and simply wanting him right there in his space. ]

[ You better, is Talia's enthusiastic reply, because she has a lot of new toys to be showing you and new ballet moves and you missed so much, Uncle Der, I gotta tell you anything. Her enthusiasm puts a stupider grin on Stiles' face, and he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand as his colleague takes over the class, gently pulling the door behind them.

That's when he's met with the nosy rest of the administration, who are tittering among themselves and sneaking back to work, and Stiles rolls his eyes good naturedly as his eyes land on his dad. They share a look for a minute before Stiles strides forward, still very much holding onto Derek behind him, and pokes his dad solidly in the chest. ] You knew about this and we are so going to talk about your devious streak when I get the chance.

[ His mom would be so proud, he can't help but think, and when the sheriff claps him on the shoulder and nods at Derek in the background, his smile softens before he nods back at his dad and turns to Derek, nudging their shoulders together and enjoying the feeling of his fingers in his. ] Let's go home.

[ And he absolutely will not miss out on any of that, not for a second time, he promises more than anything else. If Derek could split his time between everyone he's missed in the past year, he would. The only problem is that he can't, so he has to prioritize himself before they all vie for his attention. Which means that Stiles gets top priority, and the rest of his friends and family know better than to try and fight it.

As they leave the classroom, he can't help the way a laugh startles out of him at the Stilinskis. He at least refrains from commenting that his dad was the one that orchestrated all of this, saving it for later when they aren't trying to escape the school. Home sounds amazing, and being there with Stiles even moreso.

Bumping back into him, he bows his head a little in response to the sheriff, smile still intact. His attention completely focuses on Stiles after that, though, and he squeezes his fingers gently. ] Home sounds great.

[ He's at the point where he has so much to say he's not sure if he can spit it all out or if he can say anything at all, and Stiles just kind of smiles to himself like an idiot and leads Derek by the hand out of the school, looking down at the tiles under his converses instead of forward, like it's almost too much of a sensory overload. He's coming up on 25 years old and is acting like a teenage girl.

Still, there's something that was dislodged in his chest that just seems to have clicked into place. Where his fingers are still intertwined with Derek's, his thumb keeps stroking over the top of his palm, like he can't stop the soft contact between them, a controlled fidget instead of his usual over the top ones. They make it out to Stiles' car and he pauses to look at it for a second, look at Derek, then hurriedly crowds him up against the side of the old blue jeep to kiss him, because he's been missing this for almost a year. ]

[ Hardly bothered by the silence, because he knows Stiles so well and can practically hear the traffic of thoughts in his head, Derek simply walks with him without questioning a damn thing. They've got plenty of time ahead of them for talking, for proper catching up. Right now, it's just a flashback to when they first started dating, acting like teenagers in the whole gamut from giddily flustered to furiously making out in corners.

The moment that Stiles starts to crowd him, there's absolutely no resistance from him. Derek's back hits the side of the Jeep-- Jesus Christ, he's actually missed the death trap that is Roscoe-- and his hand comes up to curl around the back of Stiles' neck. And even an onlooker could tell that he holds on like he's drowning, kisses like a drowning man breathes in air. But that's always what Stiles has been to him, his anchor to everything. ]

[ His hands end up landing on either side of Derek's head, bracketing him in between, like he might escape if he lets go. Logically, that's not true, and Stiles is pretty much 1000% positive that Derek's feeling about the same way he is right now, but it doesn't change him from instinctively doing it anyway. God, he missed this, in so many words and so few, and it ends up being the brush of Derek's stubble against his chin when he tilts his head that makes him smile into the kiss, big and stupid until it feels like his face is going to break in half.

This is real. It still feels like a damned dream.

Derek's BDUs are familiar and his body heat's warm, the hand on his neck is acting like an anchor, holding him in the present. Derek smells like sweat and the desert and the faintest bit of that stupid body spray he bought him as a gag gift and sent in a car package. It's him, real and in front of Stiles instead of an illusion, and it still feels like it's almost too much. ]

Hi. [ It comes out in a mumble as he breaks the kiss, shooting him a baleful look. ]

[ It would take three, well-placed movements to free him from where Stiles has enclosed him. But for all intents and purposes, for all he cares about, Derek is locked in place and incapable of moving. Even if Stiles decided to step away he would undoubtedly follow, led by the gravitational pull between them. Even with a year apart, it's still there and holds him under its sway, maybe even stronger for the distance that was wedged between them by miles of sand and ocean.

Smiling as Stiles does, he laughs a little into it, deliriously happy. All he can taste and smell, hear, feel, is Stiles.

It's unreal. Derek is there again, can curl his fingers tight against the back of his neck-- just shy of leaving marks-- and can kiss him. His senses are filled with his bodywash, coffee, faint spices that seem to follow him everywhere. And it's almost overwhelming, because he's been imagining it every night for a year.

His expression is maybe a little sly in response, and definitely amused. ] Surprise.

I've been trying to tell you every frickin' year since I was sixteen that I hate surprises. [ Stiles rolls his eyes, but there's nothing malicious even remotely behind it--he's hesitant to step back, so instead of gesturing wildly, he brings his arms in and grabs the front of his shirt instead, like he's playfully threatening him. ] And you, because you are the contrary asshole that I've somehow fallen in love with, continue to surprise me.

[ Except he's smiling, grinning like an absolute freakin idiot and shaking his head again. It's just unbelievable. ] All of my coworkers are never going to shut up about this. Ever.

Oh, I know you do. [ Derek isn't even bothered by the fact that Stiles grabs hold of him, grin curling his expression and pinching the corners of his eyes. He brings his other hand up, instead, slipping it under the hems of his shirts to touch the skin of his hip. His thumb gentles over the sweep of the bone, tracing it and following a pattern of moles that he knows is there without even looking. ] Do you know how hard it was to keep it a secret? The entire platoon wanted to drop hints, it was ridiculous.

[ Bowing his head into his space again, he just lets his lips drag against Stiles' as he speaks, not a real kiss but something rather like it regardless. ] No, they're not.

Oh, poor baby. [ That's nothing but sarcastic, and he shoots Derek a flat look, because clearly he suffered. Stiles's suffering was just caught on camera, to probably be played at school assemblies and good morning america or something equally embarrassing. If he thinks about it, he did pretty much attack Derek when he showed up at the door, which would make super morning television show fodder.

(he can't even really be that mad.)

Stiles kisses him when he drags close again, once or twice, like he's trying to find an excuse to keep kissing him, to stay close. They need to leave, get out of the parking lot of his frickin' work, but he doesn't want to move. ] You'll have to suffer with me at the Christmas party.

It was awful. [ He doesn't even bother trying to sound or look pitiful. He can't even feel particularly guilty for the fact that they were caught on camera, because there is literally nothing in the world that matters right now outside of him and Stiles. Derek isn't one for being in the public eye, but it's worth it just to have this, to have that moment.

While he knows that they need to get back home and out of the parking lot of Beacon Elementary, he can't really find the motivation to move either. Kissing him sounds a lot more appealing than anything else. ] I always suffer with you at the Christmas party.

we're bigger than we've ever dreamed

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