potosi | crayola doesn't make a color for your eyes.

[ Derek puts the car into park and cuts the engine as Talia scrambles to get her things after oh-so victoriously defeating Mr. Stiles in their game. Almost bouncing like an excited puppy, even, and her uncle just snorts a little from where he's getting out of the driver's side. He hasn't actually seen the teacher yet, which is probably for the best. ]

Yeah, s'kay! [ The little girl continues bouncing, until the mysterious chauffeur comes around the Cruiser. And then she's launching herself at him without any warning, save for a sudden "uncle Der!", though by this point he's incredibly used to her excitement. Without missing a beat, Derek slips his hands under her outstretched arms and scoops her up as he comes forward to where her teacher is still standing. ] Hey, Tallulah. Your mom sent me today.

[ Straightening up as the guy comes around the edge of the cruiser, Stiles brushes chalk dust off his khakis and stands up fully, letting go of Talia's hand so she can run at him, and that's when he catches an eyeful of the driver. He looks sort of-- ]

Oh my god.

[ Stiles blurts that out before he can even think about it, in what is very much an unprofessional move as every five alarm warning can go off in the back of his head because holy shit that's Derek Hale. And he probably should've put the clues together sooner--Hale, Hale of a Chef--considering Derek had even mentioned he'd had a niece and oh god.

He wants to slap himself upside the head for being such an idiot, and to maybe gape at the fact that Derek Hale lives here. In Beacon Hills.

Eventually it hits Stiles he needs to say something, and he just--settles for a wave and tries to pretend his ears aren't burning, mentally mapping out the quickest escape routes to his Jeep.

The problem here is he's not sure if he wants to run to him or away. Derek Hale lives in Beacon Hills. ]

Edited 2013-12-03 08:25 (UTC)

[ Talia chatters about a mile a minute at him, excited to see her uncle and bursting with information about her day. Derek takes it all in stride, his attention largely on her until she suddenly comes to a stop. He's about to ask what the matter is, but then she's looking at her teacher. ] Mr. Stiles, are you okay?

[ He blinks, once, slowly, before looking away from her and following her confusedly concerned gaze to Mister-- ] Stiles?

[ Laura was serious. His recipe buddy is actually Talia's kindergarten teacher. She'd actually taken a picture of her daughter and her teacher, and she wasn't just bullshitting him to give him a hard time. They are currently standing in the pickup area of his niece's elementary school, not five feet from each other, and the picture she took did not do him justice.

Shit.

Honestly, Derek can't stop staring. It's probably worrying Talia a little, if her silence is anything to go on, but he's completely distracted by the fact that he's looking one "Stiles" Stilinski in the face. There's glitter in his hair and clothes, chalk powder still on his khakis, he has possibly the biggest brown eyes he's ever seen, and his mouth-- ]

Stiles. [ Maybe he should be concerned that he actually sounds a little pleased to be saying his name out loud and to his face instead of typing it and hitting send. ]

[ Oh, shit. Well. He knows now.

Stiles stares at him for a minute in the picture of wide eyed "oh my god", his mouth falling open a little stupidly at the fact that Derek Hale actually just said his name. It's weird--they've been texting for months, since Thanksgiving. The first thing he does in the morning is roll over and text him, when he's making his coffee (or beforehand, when the text is usually just "arrghhgkjtghthghh" or something similar), and the last thing he does at night is text him until he passes out. Usually they're arguing about something--customizing recipes versus going traditional, or what the best food to eat when you're wasted is, or if diner food tastes better at two in the morning (it does). Scott rags on him for it constantly, asking him how his boyfriend's doing, and it's embarrassing and absolutely not something Stiles definitely thinks about like all the time.

It's Talia who snaps him out of his staring, the concerned look on her face, and he snaps his jaw shut with an audible click, wiping his chalky hands off on his pants and ruining any work he did on them earlier and offering up his right hand to be polite. ] ...Derek.

[ ..wait. ] --I mean, you must be Talia's...uncle, right? [ Holy jesus how could he have been so stupid. Shaking his head minutely, he looks at Talia, leaning down a little to meet her level and flashing her a smile. ] He's gotta be, I think you have his beard! I can see it riiiiight...

[ And then he reaches out and tweaks her nose with his free hand and very pointedly ignores that his super hot online friend in fact lived in the same town as his.

(Did dating her uncle seem creepy?) ] There.

[ Stiles isn't alone in this. It's gotten to the point that his current family members ask how he's doing, what recipe he's giving now, when are they going to actually talk on the phone, due to the frequency with which Derek texts the kindergarten teacher. They both have errant sleep schedules, and even when they know the other isn't going to answer texts for a bit-- cooking or teaching or actually sleeping-- they shoot one another texts to come back to. Laura is maybe a little jealous, because he never leaves her random messages. His texts with her are short and sweet.

Stiles has actually gotten him to write novels before, or leave him enough texts that combined they might as well be novels. When he goes shopping, Stiles gets a text about ingredients or the people that he sees in the store or market.

And now he has a voice, a face, to put to the text messages. And it's killing him a little. ]

Mr. Stiiiiiiiles! [ Talia whines when he tweaks her nose, batting at his hand with both of hers as her uncle holds her steady on his hip with one arm. The other hand not snug around her waist is currently wrapped around Stiles' before he can even think about it, and he tries not to think about it after he realizes it. ]

Guess that means we're behind on her shaving. [ It comes out in a dry drawl, but it's easy considering his mouth suddenly went dry. ]

[ guess who is literally sitting crosslegged in front of the door waiting

it's this guy ]

[ Guess who gets stopped on the way out of his apartment with an armful of stuff to make Stiles food?

It's this guy.

Derek, however, navigates as far away from Laura as quickly as possible so that he can hunt down where Stiles lives. It's not that difficult, between looking it up and cross-referencing with one Scott McCall. It's a good thing Stiles talks about his roommate so much, because otherwise there would not be a hot chef guy coming up to Stiles' apartment, looking a combination of amused and bemused. ]

[ There's Derek! Stiles brightens the minute he sees his car pull into the drive downstairs, and he considers getting up, but whatever logical part of his brain is still functioning tells him that's an awful idea, so he sits and waits, hands resting on his ankles and grinning like the cheshire cat.

In fact, he just looks up at him when he arrives, still smiling, cheeks a little flushed, and chirps out a ] Hi, Derek! You came!

[ When their hands touch--it's the right thing to do, proper--it makes a flush start on his ears, a mix of embarrassment and about five other emotions all at once, and the fact that they linger...

Well, it's a lot to think about. He pulls his hand away from Derek's slowly, intense brown eyes almost never leaving his face, at least until Talia gets his attention again. It gives him an excuse to pretend he wasn't completely staring at her uncle, you know, the chef he's been talking to since October.

It's March. It's March and he lives less than--maybe he lives out of town? Maybe he's just visiting? What if this is Stiles' only opportunity?

Yeah, he's just gonna cut that thought right off at the pass before Stiles gets even more embarrassed at himself. He runs a hand through his bird's nest of a hairdo, flicking his eyes between Talia and Derek, even when the way she bats at his nose makes him smile. ] Gotta work on that. She, uh--Talia, you'll have to show them your project for this week when you get home, okay? It got a big gold star, didn't it.

[ There is something incredibly endearing about the way Stiles greets him, and he feels something soften in his chest before he sets the heavy bag of ingredients down on the floor. His other bag remains slung over his shoulder, because Derek has every intention of staying the night to make sure that Stiles isn't in agony in the morning. ]

Of course I did. C'mere. [ He holds his hands out to him, twitching his fingers in a slight grabby motion to encourage him to give him his hands. ]

[ Stiles beams at him in response, clearly drunk off of his ass, and reaches forward, rocking up off of his butt and planting both of his hands in Derek's. ]

Y'wanna hold hands-- [ And it ends in a stupid giggle. God only knows where he was going with that one. ]

[ This is sort of amusing as hell but also really unfair, because Stiles is possibly the most adorable drunk he has ever seen. It trumps Derek's roommates in college by leaps and bounds, and he curls his fingers with his to easily haul him back to his feet. ]

Absolutely. [ Not actually a lie. ]

[ His center of gravity rocks forward almost immediately and Stiles slumps into Derek's barrel chest, keeping his hands in Derek's and pressing his cheek against his pecs. ]

Yes. [ He says to nothing and to no context in particular, like he's just really suddenly pleased with having his face mashed in Derek's chest. (He kind of is.) ]

[ Braced to let Stiles lean his weight into him, Derek lets him keep one hand while the other slides away from his grip, settling in the small of his back to keep him stable. But he seems pretty attached to him, or at least the idea of being pressed up against his chest. ]

Hi there. [ Soft and amused, he rubs his thumb along the line of his spine through fabric, angling his head to get a look at him. ]

You caaaame. [ Is what comes out of his mouth, all muffled by the front of Derek's jacket; Stiles looks up and presses his chin to his chest, smiling from ear to ear at him.

He came! This is the first time Derek's been here. He should probably say something.

He doesn't. Just grins kind of stupidly at him. ]

Of course I did. You asked me to. [ A small chuff of laughter comes out of him, and Derek gently brings his hand around to nudge at his hip. ] But we're currently outside your apartment, and I have ingredients that need to be used or put into cold storage.

[ Another nudge, but he doesn't take back his other hand still. He likes the contact there-- likes Stiles leaning up against him, but he's ignoring that as best he can-- and is reluctant to let go. ]

You brought me food! [ Drunk Stiles is apparently super into stating the obvious. He flings his arms in the air when he stumbles backwards, taking Derek's hand with him, and gives him this stupidly, dopily affectionate look, then tries to push open the door with his ass, stumbling through the threshold.

Casa Stilinski is pretty small. There are posters lining the walls, from Star Wars to sports stars, and a pair of lacrosse sticks piled in a corner. One of the walls is entirely covered in pictures that must have been from his kindergarten class, and there are mini mobiles hanging in the kitchen, with a decidedly feminine touch. (Thanks Lydia, who declared Stiles and Scott's little apartment a disaster area and untouchable by anyone of the female gender.) ]

Of which you also asked me to do. [ Derek doesn't sound in the least bit exasperated by the fact Stiles keeps stating the obvious, and instead bends forward to pick up the heavy bag again so that he can carry it in. It isn't much strain, and he simply uses the other hand to make sure Stiles doesn't fall over.

Nudging the door shut with a foot, he looks around at the apartment. Part of him really wants to kidnap Stiles back to his apartment, permanently, but he pushes it out of his mind and instead makes his way over towards the kitchen with his fingers still curled around Stiles'. ]

I forgot. [ Stiles stumbles forward into Derek's arm when he keeps a hold of him, wrapping both of his arms around his bicep and leaning into him as they enter the apartment.

He should probably be embarrassed. But he most definitely is not. Ah, alcohol. Making a pleased noise, he rubs his cheek on his sleeve and follows him right into the kitchen, peeking over his shoulders and watching everything he does. ] Fooooood.

[ Derek knows that Talia is staring at the two of them, confused and trying to figure out what's going on with them. But Stiles is all that he really notices for a long time, crisp green on bright brown, and he doesn't really want to look away from him. Like this is somehow a figment of his imagination.

But then he draws his hand away, looks at Talia, and it seems like it's broken. Yet Stiles remains, and he's not just imagining this meeting right now. Talia, oblivious to her uncle's turmoil, kicks her feet a little excitedly.

She draws Derek's attention back to her, where he looks down and away from her teacher. It's easier to focus on her than it is Stiles, because his mind is trying to wrap itself around the idea that they don't live hundreds of thousands of miles away from one another. Teachers don't tend to live too ludicrously far from their schools, so-- ] It did! You think mom'll put it on the fridge?

[ He smiles at her easily. ] If she doesn't, I call dibs.

Obviously, since you were sitting outside your apartment. Were you waiting for me? [ Derek lets him hold onto his arm, calmly guiding him through to the kitchen. It's not as if he can't find his way around, considering the size of the place, but he's being careful as he goes to make sure Stiles doesn't stumble.

Dropping his bag onto the floor outside the kitchen, he sets the one with all the ingredients onto the counter so that he can start taking everything out. ] Yes, food.

Yussss! Duh. 's polite. [ He literally walked outside the minute Derek told him he was coming and stayed there. It's a good thing it's mid April.

Stiles gives him a dopey smile and leans into his shoulder, dropping his arms to give him his other hand back obediently and wrapping it around his waist instead, basically melting into his side. ] I can't believe you're here.

Right, of course. [ It really is a good thing it's mid April, otherwise Stiles would be a popsicle. Not that Derek would be against warming him up again-- okay, focus, Hale.

Letting Stiles maneuver himself into his space, he works easily with his attachment, content in the moment. He needs to dig around in his kitchen for all the pots and pans and the crockpot, but he's in no real hurry since the pulled pork sure as hell won't be done before Stiles is unconscious. ] Why's that?

You're here! [ He repeats it again, because come on, Derek, that's like the easiest explanation ever. However, it occurs to him that maybe he needs to make that more obvious to Derek, so he worms his way under his arm when he reaches for the pots, gesturing at the upper cabinet when he gets the chance and then returning to curling into his chest. ]

's the first time you've cmere. [ Aside from the way that gets slurred at the end, it's at least cohesive. ] And you're cooking! For me! Right now, I like--dreamed about this.

[ Following his gesture and allowing him further into his space, Derek reaches to open the upper cabinet and starts going through the pots to pick out the best ones for the task at hand. He's got a lot of cooking ahead of him, but it's for Stiles. He's happy to do it.

He pauses, though, when Stiles curls into his chest and looks down at him. Brows raising a little, he looks fondly bemused. ] I would've come sooner if you'd asked me to. It doesn't always have to be at the loft.

[ A hand comes up, brushing knuckles across his temple. ] I just like spending time with you.

crayola doesn't make a color for your eyes.

LAUGHS

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