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In Plain Sight

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“Are you out of your freaking mind? What are you doing outside?!” Stiles completely ignores the way Derek is glaring at his hand, currently grasping Derek’s arm, and proceeds to manhandle him outside and away from the hot-dog booth. And that should work as a testament to how outraged he is to see Derek there that he can manhandle him and also ignore Lydia’s call telling him that his shift isn’t over yet. “There’s a freaking family of hunters after your ass, what even--?”

 

“They already found the abandoned train depot. My house. They’ll find the loft eventually,” he says as he shrugs Stiles’ hand off and then fixes his hoodie around the shoulders.

 

“So you thought coming to a high school family picnic would be a good idea? Is that why you’re wearing sunglasses and a hat? And a hoodie? How do you even own a hoodie?” He’s known Derek for nearly three years and he’s well acquainted with his bland wardrobe of dark and all variations of green henleys, the odd red thermal sweater with thumbholes, the leather jacket, the oh my god why beige jacket (is this his way to blend in as a normal member of society?) and the multiple tight jeans. All boring. Yes. And not in any way flattering at all. Nope “Wait a second...is that my hoodie?”

 

Derek shrugs. “Why do you even own a size L? You’re barely an M.”

 

Dude. Just because I’m not as self-obsessed and actually have other things to keep me occupied rather than doing endless push ups and weight lifting doesn’t give you the right to jab at my very fine, let me tell you, lean body. Also, the nerve! You just stole my clothes!”

 

“I needed a disguise.” He shifts in his place and then Stiles notices his feet.

 

“My shoes too? Jesus, could you not.” He rubs his temples. This is too much. “By the way, the whole hat, sunglasses and hoodie combo make you look like a tool.”

 

“Then I accomplished my goal to disguise myself successfully.” Derek smirks, smug and well, Stiles does have to give him that. No one would recognize him looking like that.

 

Right. If only you had thought about getting rid of the beard, dude. Fail.” Honestly, that’s pretty much how he was able to tell it was Derek. “You seriously couldn’t find a less public place to hide? If those hunters find you here--”

 

“They won’t do a thing because there are too many eyewitnesses.”

 

“Not like they don’t own any tranc guns to steal you away from here and have their evil hunter-y way with you!”

 

“And that’s why I’m here with you. Not because you’re a delight to hang out with.”

 

But of course Derek would pick him first to ruin his afternoon. Not Scott or even his damn betas that must be somewhere, also working their picnic shifts. “Stupid Argent for keeping his phone off, like, who does that?”

 

“He just left for France last night and god knows how many connecting flights he’s got. He’s probably still on a plane so of course his phone is off. He’ll switch it on when he lands. Then he’ll call them off or something.”

 

Stiles wants to start bitching about Argent not attempting to check his mail because he made sure to spam the hell out of his inbox, but then he sees them. “Oh my god, baldie and belly guy, twelve o’clock.” Derek looks ahead of him but frowns when he doesn’t see a thing. “No, my twelve o’clock. Your six o’clock. Behind you. Coming near. Don’t look.

 

“Just calm down and pretend you’re talking to me.”

 

“I am talking to you! And oh god, I can’t even think of a random topic to talk about.”

 

“You’re panicking.”

 

“No shit, dude!”

 

“You’ll draw attention to us, calm the fuck down.”

 

Stiles casts one look at the two hunters and then sets his eyes on Derek. He needs to come up with something. Quick. “I know.” He grabs Derek by the front of the tank top that’s peeking from the hoodie’s opening, and urgh since when does Derek have chest hair? He doesn’t remember that from when Derek was shirtless and threatening him in Deaton’s consultory with a wolfsbane bullet lodged in his arm. But then that was almost three years ago and he was pretty terrified with the impending threat of Derek forcing him to cut his arm off if Scott didn’t make it on time. It was stressful and terrifying, even if he ultimately didn’t have to do it. But either way, he doubts he would've missed this.

 

“What are you doing.”

 

“Kiss me. Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable.” He nods frantically, as if that will get Derek into agreeing. “They won’t look our way for long. Now kiss me, boo,” he adds in a fake, sweet purr.

 

Derek does not look impressed. “You are not Black Widow.” For a moment he needs to genuinely smile because he took Derek kicking and screaming (fine, growling and frowning) to watch Captain America 2 in the midnight premiere and he claimed to have totally hated it. Putting that aside as teasing material for later, he presses his lips to Derek’s and well, it’s not as bad as he was anticipating it. Well, it is awkward to just stand there with their lips together for god knows how long because baldie and belly guy seemed to be strolling rather than charging in their general direction, so this may take a while.

 

Maybe it wasn’t the best of ideas.

 

Derek sighs, exasperated and seeming to have realized this is a shit plan, but then he puts an arm around his waist and a hand on the nape of his neck and damn, now they’re talking. Or kissing, actually. Stiles tries to do his part by relaxing into Derek’s arms and his lips feel pretty damn amazing to be honest, soft but with the scratchiness of Derek’s beard against his chin and cheeks.

 

It’s good.

 

And he’s completely taken by surprise when he feels Derek’s tongue prodding his bottom lip and well, Stiles just goes for it and parts his lips.

 

Now it’s good.

 

If he’s totally honest with himself maybe he had entertained the thought, a time or two (or a thousand), of maybe hooking up with Derek because who wouldn’t, but he never thought he’d actually ever get the chance. Like it was way, way beyond the realm of possibilities but hey, werewolves are real.

 

And so is Derek, all nicely pressed against him, and kissing him with such hunger that he doubts it’ll be appropriate to stay in that family environment for longer.

 

But then he starts pulling away and why. “Are they gone already?”

 

“I don’t know, but maybe we should keep going, just to make sure?” He’s ready to lean forward again but Derek stops him by pressing a finger to his chin.

 

“Just hang on…” Derek looks behind Stiles for a few seconds and his frown intensifies, which makes Stiles grow nervous again. “Mullet guy with a sleeve tattoo is also one of them right?” Mullet guy...Actually, that sounds more like Mr. Kolpak the new music teacher. And Derek already asked about him when he first noticed him near the school grounds, so Stiles just narrows his eyes at him, hoping that Derek can fully grasp the extent of his annoyance.

 

“Yes, totally.” And Derek kisses him again, so Stiles guesses he can forgive him for being a little shit.

 


 

Stiles is humming in the kitchen as he finally fishes the desired pan from under the many pots and other rusty pans that he still doesn’t know why they still keep in their cupboards. It’s dinnertime and after a day outside with his dad out of his watchful eye in an environment full of greasy, unhealthy foods (‘I need to support your school’s cause,’ he had said, yeah right), it’s only greens for them tonight.

 

“I saw you kissing Hale at the family picnic,” his dad announces when he enters the kitchen, and Stiles freezes on the spot, nearly dropping the bowl of chopped veggies he got ready for the stir fry.

 

It’s not that he worries about his dad completely disapproving of Derek because well, that ship has already sailed and Stiles is aware that they meet more than twice a week at Mike’s diner downtown. Where Derek encourages his unhealthy eating, that dirty enabler. No wonder his dad is so okay with him. “Oh well, like you say, duty called.” He tries to remain nonchalant because he doesn’t want his dad to get the wrong idea. That like, maybe they’re together. Or dating. Or something.

 

Well, actually maybe something wouldn’t too off because he never did return to his shift at the hot-dog booth and instead just went somewhere more secure to hide Derek. And stayed, just to make sure he was safe. 

 

Hopefully Lydia will forgive him when he tells her what went on. With details, because she likes details.

 

“And what a hardship it was, wasn’t it?” He asks as he sits at the kitchen table, picking up the newspaper he left there in the morning and just completely missing Stiles’ lecherous smile.

 

“A hardship, yeah...you have no idea.”