What the hell is a Stiles? (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} _stiles) wrote, |
He unfolded his fingers and reached for Derek’s hand. Yeah, Derek was proud of him. That was really nice.
“Stuffed shells?” He asked, but then Derek went on with the explanation and it was endearing. It was lovely. He really liked hearing about baby Derek. He’d repay his mate later with stories of his awkward childhood. Or even better, he’d ask his dad. “It’s nice. I like that he remembers you. Dad and I never really got to eat out much, but I remember he and mom having a favourite waiter at a Mexican restaurant they went to. I’ll ask him what it was called and we can go-“
Stiles could imagine Derek was one of those people every waitstaff loved, because he’d be able to pronounce all of the dishes and probably knew about the culture- Derek was so stupidly smart.
He chuckled at Derek’s words, because all of that was absolutely possible, especially since the way he was leaning showed off his unmarked neck.
“I like that you keep calling me baby,” he whispered. “I’m pretty sure people can hear you.” Stiles had stopped looking around at the other diners, feeling safe and content here. No one was judging them. He sipped his water, maybe shuffling his chair closer.
“You think Armand will mind if we come in here with our five pups, all of them wanting different things, all of them wanting attention. And ice cream. I bet this place does great ice cream-“ Stiles leant in and kisses Derek softly. “Five or six. However many-“ he grinned, kind of hoping the talk of all their pups would make Derek squirm a little. He couldn’t say all the things he wanted to about the plug inside him, thinking about Derek’s knot- there would be other wolves here, they’d be able to hear- maybe they’d be able to smell him getting aroused.
Stiles flushed, stroking his fingers over the back of Derek’s hand.