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

[ it's been months since derek and stiles became, well, derek and stiles, and the kindergarten teacher, honestly? probably couldn't be much happier. he'd finally manned up and kissed him at a christmas party with lots of tittering housewives to look on; stiles had mumbled that he'd wanted to do that since last spring and things had progressed from there.

he spends most of his days at derek's apartment, cooking with him or helping him with his show, grading and making lesson plans while derek filmed, kicking his feet against the island and appearing in his videos every now and then for the taste test. stiles had been received pretty well by derek's fans--his own instagram picture of their feet, converses propped up on black combat boots, had gotten a couple hundred likes, and a lot of "congratulations"', and the video comments were often the same. they liked to see derek happy as much as stiles did, and you know, stiles was pretty sure he deserved some happiness too.

six months later, and things are still amazing. stiles is finally finally finally free for summer, and he eagerly waves goodbye to the last of the kids and their parents in excitement to head home for the trip derek had told him about last week, for a surprise--the two of them were off to europe, hitting six different food festivals in six different countries.

so they hop on a plane and stiles pets derek's hair and lets him basically inhabit his seat in order to help him fall asleep so he's not freaked out by the flight, and by the time they get off, they're whisked straight off to a festival in bordeaux, france, les epicurales. sitting in the back of a rickety french cab, stiles looks out the window at the wine country unfolding past them, and he reaches forward and wrap his hand around derek's. ] I'm going to eat till I die.

[ 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.

[ it's kind of hard to believe this is actually happening. they're in europe, for crap's sake. last summer, stiles was at home, working at the police station to make extra cash to hold him over until the school year started again, alone and watching his best friend spend all his time with his longtime girlfriend.

now? now it felt like he was having the better summer. not that he'd really try to compare or anything, but it has been awesome to have a pro-stiles kind of year.and stiles has been trying to keep it that way, because derek has turned out to be one of the best things in his life, period. they bicker sometimes, they banter often, they argue about recipes and ingredients and food, but at the end of the day, stiles is better for it. he loves talia, and was the first to swoop her up and cover her kisses when she cried on the last day of school. loves cora, even if she does nothing but give him hell most of the time, loves laura and john.

would he like to maybe add a hyphen onto his last name someday? if it was with hale, yeah. absolutely.

he's not gonna tell derek that yet. it's only been six months. for now, he's enjoying traveling with him, jet lagged but happy as he turns away from the greenery outside to actually look at derek. he even whips out his phone and gets prepared, because derek speaks french to the cab driver, so he films a video and then a little of his reaction, the "can you believe this" that comes with the fact that his boyfriend speaks fluent french.

but he hides the phone like he was being subtle before he's tugged out of the car, and steps out into the warm french sunlight, lifting his arms in the air and stretching (and taking derek's hand with him). ] Dude, I've got like three days to recover. I can die and reincarnate and die again, it'll be cool.

I'm thinking...this is a three day festival, right? [ he tilts his head as he drops their arms. ] So, eat our weight in French food, drink a lot of wine, have lots of tipsy sex, sleep, repeat?

[ There was one day, where Derek and John had been talking-- he likes his brother-in-law well enough, don't get him wrong, but he can only take so much of John Cheese in one day before he's literally cheesed out-- and John had just outright asked him, in a moment of eerie perceptiveness, about how he'd hyphenate their names. Because even Laura, who got a kick out of John's surname and the story behind it, wouldn't give up the Hale name. Cora doesn't intend to, either.

He'd just shrugged it off, because six months of actual dating plus a little over a year of friendship and pseudo-dating isn't enough time to most people. Society seems to frown upon immediate wedding discussions, diving into relationships, but Derek already knows he'd go for it. Even if it'd be a mouthful.

To be honest, though, his life has improved exponentially since Stiles entered it. He's been happier than ever, especially after everything that's happened in his life. Last summer hadn't really been too awful, but he hadn't had any reason to go near the school. The explosive breakup with Jennifer had happened earlier in the year, and he couldn't go anywhere near the school to pick Talia up from the preschool program they ran in the morning because of the principal. Now? Now he'll march right past her office every afternoon just to bring Stiles lunch.

So, he's thrilled to be a world away with Stiles. He's going to enjoy every minute of it.

If there is one thing that Derek has learned about Stiles, it's that he's not subtle. At all. He eyes where he's hidden his phone, but is more preoccupied with getting out of the car than anything else. The fact that he's got his arm up in the air hardly bothers him, and instead he rolls his head to crack his neck. ] That sounds unpleasant.

[ But he looks over at him as he drops their hands, letting out a hum in answer to his question before it becomes a short laugh. Without prompting, he pulls Stiles closer to him, angling his head towards him. ] More like sleep and have to make you hangover breakfast, then repeat, but yes.

[ tucking his phone back in his pocket, stiles allows himself to be pulled over--a laugh bursts out of him and he slides his free arm around derek's waist, leaning forward to plant a messy kiss on him. he's happy, hell, he's friggin joyful, because stiles doesn't speak a damn word of french--hell, this is the first time he's been out of the country--and he's freakin' ecstatic to be out here anywhere. ] I figured that was part of the equation anyway.

[ giving the hand in his a tight squeeze, stiles honestly doesn't give two fucks if they look like that stupid, sappy couple to the taxi driver, who pulls their suitcases out before driving off--someone already asked if they were honeymooning when they were on the plane and derek was asleep. he'd pretend that he didn't look stupidly fond when he said no.

(maybe next time.)

grabbing his suitcase handle, he gives derek's hand an emphatic tug. ] C'mon, hotel, then food. Plan can't start with friggin suitcases. ~Le suitcases~, if you will.

[ Something lights up and burns warm in his chest as Stiles laughs, and he loses a smile in the kiss as he returns it easily. They look grossily like those sappy honeymooning tourists and he knows it, even if he hadn't been conscious for the question from their fellow passenger. Outside observers can think it, but Derek is more than aware of it. They give off that joyous glow, and he's... well, he's not going to be upset if they think it.

Because he's happy. And he squeezes Stiles' hand back as he reaches to pick up his own suitcase, not looking away from him as he does. Because there's always been a spark to those big, stupid doe eyes, but now it's warmed the amber into something soft and he can't really find it in himself to look away. ]

It usually is when it comes to you and inebriation. [ Still, he lets himself get tugged forward, hefting up his bag easily so that he can follow him. They have to check in, of course, but then it's off to gorge themselves on food. ] I will not. It's valises, Stiles.

[ Stiles' eyes widen playfully and he holds up his fingertips holding onto the handle of his suitcase. ]

Oh, my bad, valises. [ And he says it with a particularly thick accent, like he's trying purposefully to sound stupid. (He is.) Derek sounds ridiculously attractive when he speaks French, and Stiles spends most of the time that they're walking up to the hotel making him say various things in French, just because he's absolutely delighted with this new discovery. Derek hadn't told him he could speak other languages--aside from his flawless accent on the show and, at least he figured, some Gaelic, that was probably it.

Derek's full of surprises like that. It's kind of great.

He gives the hand in his a little squeeze and kicks open the door to their hotel room with a flourish once they get checked in, dropping his bag off and spinning around to interrupt Derek before he can properly get out of the door. ] Are you hungry now? Or do you wanna sleep off the jet lag?

[ He is not fussing he will not listen to you say otherwise ]

[ Derek can't help but roll his eyes at Stiles, but it's fond as he indulges him. He has to hush him for a minute while he checks in with the desk, not speaking the language haltingly but at least in a way that implies he hasn't really gotten much use of it in a while. But his accent, at least, doesn't sound like a tourist trying to shape foreign words, and for that he's thankful. Just rusty, when he spends more time speaking Spanish or teaching Gaelic to Talia and Stiles both.

He had a lot of time on his hands at one point in his life where he didn't want to do anything. When she was alive his mother had encouraged therapy sessions, but also something that would keep his attention. History tied to language, in its way, so it'd continued from fifteen to twenty-five.

A briefly unimpressed look flickers across his expression as he kicks the door open, though it's teasing up until Stiles is suddenly smack in front of him and barring his entry. ] If I sleep now, no amount of food coma is going to knock me out tonight. Also, airline food is appalling.

[ Stiles, you're fussing. ]

Aw, did it offend your chef palate? Okay, fine. But before we go-- [ Stiles takes Derek's bag and chucks it somewhere behind them, then fists his hands in the front of his shirt to pull him down for a deep, hungry kiss.

When he breaks away, with a tug of his lower lip between his teeth, Stiles murmurs-- ] That was for the French. [ and then brushes off Derek's lapels himself.

He looks pretty much merry as he ducks underneath his arm and out into the hallway, absently pulling out his phone and snapping a picture of Derek's back and the hotel room to add to the pile of vacation photos. There's going to be an epic spam of pictures later--you only go to France once, after all. ]

Horribly offensive. [ Derek watches his bag go flying, but doesn't resist as he's pulled forward into a kiss. Instead, he reaches his hands out to wrap his fingers around his hips, giving him a kiss that mingles with the way he's been speaking French since they landed in France. Easy and languid, but deep, passionate.

He can't help but bristle a little at the feel of teeth, though, and just laughs something small and breathy as he starts to dust him off. ] J'aime le Français.

[ Straightening himself out a little more as Stiles ducks out, he examines the hotel room before patting himself down to make sure he has everything on him. Phone, wallet-- and thus, hotel key-- and extra money. When he's sure of it, he turns and makes his way out, ducking into Stiles' space to simply be there, nose butting up against the hinge of his jaw as he wraps his arms around his middle and presses his chest to his back. ]

[ stiles makes an "oof" noise the minute derek makes contact with his back--he wasn't expecting that--and grins as he looks over his shoulder towards the nose butting up against his jaw, and says the one word he knows in French, mostly to be a smartass. ] Oui.

[ complete with bright grin. he can't really walk like this, and they have a thousand places to go, so much food to eat, but stiles really can't bring himself to care. he leans backwards into his arms right there outside of the hotel room, and lolls his head onto his shoulder, comfortable and at home, despite basically buzzing with energy. ] Dude.

[ that's kind of a catchall, before he actually kind of looks over, and his smile softens a little, warms his eyes up. ] You're the greatest, you know that?

[ This is a little counterproductive to getting out of the hotel-- though, they could waddle along like idiots-- but Derek still relaxes against Stiles' frame. They basically support one another, and he's more than happy to just take a moment first. He hums something soft as he props his chin on Stiles' shoulder, letting it turn into a soft rumble that radiates contentedness.

Even if he's a smartass. He just laughs a little, squeezing him gently in his arms. He has no idea how he has any energy to practically vibrate in his skin, but it's somehow perfect to just hold him like this. ]

Mm, no. I think that's you. [ His head lolls a little on his shoulder to get a better look at him. ]

[ stiles scoffs and snorts, lifting a hand to shove playfully at his face-- ] Okay, man, you want some pancakes to go with all that sap?

[ but he is 100% not red, at all. not even a little, because that would be dumb. stiles is not going to have that argument with derek here, because despite all appearances, they are not the sappy honeymooning couple.

they're just. a regular couple. who'd been dancing around each other for like a year.

stiles digs around in his pocket for a second and holds up his phone, pressing the button to flip the selfie camera around. ] C'mon, one for your fanbase.

[ and then he makes a dumb face and hits the button. ]

I could make pancakes. [ Derek lets his face be shoved at, cocking his head a little as he laughs at him softly. Maybe it's more than a little sappy, something more for the honeymooners than two guys who've been dating officially for six months, dancing around each other before that for a year. But right now, he doesn't care.

He's in France with Stiles, and Stiles wanted to come. He'd said yes when he'd offered him the plane ticket, and he's thrilled. More than thrilled.

Straightening again as Stiles fishes his phone out, he shifts a little and scrunches his face up at the camera as he hits the button. If Stiles is going to make a dumb face, he's going to make his disgruntled dog face. ]

We're on vacation! Dude, literally the entire point of being on vacation is not working! Eating other people's food. That's why we're here. [ he pauses for a beat, tilts his head. ] Maybe we can break into a hotel kitchen.

[ shh derek's food is the best. pulling the camera down, he only pulls out of his arms when he hears the elevator ding, and the look he casts down at his smile is undeniably soft and romantic, and he flicks his thumb absently over it as he posts it to his instagram account, then jerks his head back up in typical stiles fashion. ] C'mon, dude, if we miss all the French food, I'm gonna be mad and hungry, and that's a shitty combination. I wanna eat a snail.

We brought all the technology we needed to make sure we could keep updating the channel and your instagram. We're still working. [ But he laughs at Stiles' proposition of breaking into the kitchen, and just draws away slowly when the elevator dings.

Immediately after, though, he reaches and puts his hands on Stiles' waist to start steering him towards the elevator, thumbs sneaking under layers to rub at the skin of his hips while they go. It's just an absent gesture, something that he takes delight in. ] We'll go get you a snail. Not sure if you'll like it, but we'll get you a snail.

crayola doesn't make a color for your eyes.

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