[ It's been months since they actually, officially, started dating, but Derek's been aware of the fact that they'd been dating for the entire year beforehand, to be perfectly honest. Having it finally kick off at the Christmas party just last winter break under a sprig of mistletoe seems almost fitting, considering how ridiculous their entire relationship has been from start to finish.
But he hasn't complained, and definitely ducked in to kiss Stiles himself after he'd muttered about spring break. (Basically, likewise.)
Stiles has been such a constant in his life that he hasn't batted an eye once at him suddenly appearing at his apartment, with or without him actually there. Laura loves him, Cora delights in terrorizing him, Talia has decided he's the best teacher ever and literally sobbed for an hour when she realized the school year was ending. Derek had to remind her that he and Stiles were dating and she'd see him all the time for her to actually stop, even if she hiccuped for another twenty minutes afterwards and gave him the biggest booboo eyes about if it'd be forever.
He'd kind of like it to be, he'd admitted to his niece and only his niece. Not like his sisters didn't know better, but he'd gotten knowing eyebrows from both of them when he said he'd be gone for a while with Stiles. To Europe. Just them. On a food festival run. He doesn't regret it in the last. Not when he's going to be away from everyone for a while, with small video (and instagram, courtesy of Stiles) updates every now and then.
After being on the internet for so long as a major presence, he can't seem to get away for too long. But that's all right, he met Stiles that way-- he'll continue to be grateful for it, and glad that those that aren't glad they're dating are few and far between. And also have no idea where they live. ]
Don't do that, this is only the first one. [ Derek drawls a little, even as he adjusts their hands a little, broad fingers slotting between long comfortably as he watches the landscape out the window. He will, honestly, take a rickety cab over an airplane any day-- it's not even that he's bothered by heights, or the idea of planes in general, but the movements of the plane and the change in air pressure all just make him feel cagey, uneasy. Stiles is, basically, a godsend.
When they finally stop, he pulls out his wallet and thumbs through his euros before offering them to the driver with a "gardez la monnaie." For Stiles, he gives a small tug to his hand as he opens the door. ] C'mon.
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But he hasn't complained, and definitely ducked in to kiss Stiles himself after he'd muttered about spring break. (Basically, likewise.)
Stiles has been such a constant in his life that he hasn't batted an eye once at him suddenly appearing at his apartment, with or without him actually there. Laura loves him, Cora delights in terrorizing him, Talia has decided he's the best teacher ever and literally sobbed for an hour when she realized the school year was ending. Derek had to remind her that he and Stiles were dating and she'd see him all the time for her to actually stop, even if she hiccuped for another twenty minutes afterwards and gave him the biggest booboo eyes about if it'd be forever.
He'd kind of like it to be, he'd admitted to his niece and only his niece. Not like his sisters didn't know better, but he'd gotten knowing eyebrows from both of them when he said he'd be gone for a while with Stiles. To Europe. Just them. On a food festival run. He doesn't regret it in the last. Not when he's going to be away from everyone for a while, with small video (and instagram, courtesy of Stiles) updates every now and then.
After being on the internet for so long as a major presence, he can't seem to get away for too long. But that's all right, he met Stiles that way-- he'll continue to be grateful for it, and glad that those that aren't glad they're dating are few and far between. And also have no idea where they live. ]
Don't do that, this is only the first one. [ Derek drawls a little, even as he adjusts their hands a little, broad fingers slotting between long comfortably as he watches the landscape out the window. He will, honestly, take a rickety cab over an airplane any day-- it's not even that he's bothered by heights, or the idea of planes in general, but the movements of the plane and the change in air pressure all just make him feel cagey, uneasy. Stiles is, basically, a godsend.
When they finally stop, he pulls out his wallet and thumbs through his euros before offering them to the driver with a "gardez la monnaie." For Stiles, he gives a small tug to his hand as he opens the door. ] C'mon.