Derek (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} surlier) wrote, |
"Of course you are. We--" they hadn't been friends in the beginning, but then they had been. His eyes opened up slowly, gazing at Stiles until the whole rest of the world fell away. "Mates aren't always guaranteed. I didn't think I had one, and then, a few days before you presented, I knew. We'd always spent more time together and -- it made sense. For it to be you. For it to be us. You were good enough then, and you're good enough now."
He returned the gentle kiss, their fingers still laced together. That moan though -- that had him inhaling sharply because he knew what caused it-
And nearly jumped when the waiter was there. "No, no, it's fine. Thank you," he said with the tiny edge of a smile, looking up at the man before back at Stiles.
"No, not unless we start making out at the table. It's - touching, kissing, it's to be expected among the newly mated." No one smelled bothered at least, and there was a faint trace of affection and warm memories in the air. "You're doing fine," he said and squeezed Stiles' hand. "Dig in."
He picked up his fork, using the edge to cut into his stuffed shell before pausing. "I don't want to be on a pedestal unless you're on it with me," Derek said quietly. "And I - I know we talked a little about it yesterday, and I -- I don't think it came out right. So, getting married? It's important to you. And I want that too. I want you to be my husband." He paused, a little bit of pasta clinging to the fork halfway to his mouth as he waited to hear what Stiles had to say.