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Hot Like Burning

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Stiles is early when he makes it to the practice field, it doesn't matter that he may have faked a severe stomach ache to get out of his lecture to be there, but it's very apparent that Derek has been out there in the sun for a long while.

To Stiles it doesn't look like an official practice since there's only a handful of players out on the field. Enough really to just cover the bases, pitch, and to bat. All of them are in loose shorts and all of them are shirtless.

Stiles takes it upon himself to skip sitting in the bleachers since it isn't a real practice and slips passed the opening that leads to the field and makes his way to the shaded sanctuary of the dugout. He sighs happily and slouches against the shade cooled concrete and watches out onto the field where Derek steps up to the plate.

Derek taps the end of the aluminum bat to his cleats before swinging it up, his fingers flexing around the base, the muscles of his shoulders and back viably shifting under his glistening skin.

Stiles is so transfixed on just watching that the sharp ting of the bat connecting with a fast ball is enough to have a startled yelp tumble from his mouth. None of the players out on the field seem to hear him, all of them focused on chasing after the ball Derek hit clear across to the other side that hits the ground just short of the fence, but Stiles still shuts his mouth with enough force to make his teeth rattle.

Practice continues on and once Derek knew Stiles was there watching, the two exchange smiles and waves every now and then. It isn't until a water break that the two can finally talk to each other.

Derek is breathing heavy and absolutely dripping with sweat when he collapses onto the metal bench and automatically curls his arm around Stiles shoulders and hauls him in for a kiss. He doesn't mind really since by this point his own shirt clings sticky to his skin as do his jeans and beads of perspiration slide down his temples, so while its a tad bit too sticky and uncomfortable the only thing stiles really minds is its a modest kiss and over entirely too quickly.

"Didn't you have a lecture?" Derek questions, pulling away to take a long draw from his water bottle before upending it over his head. The droplets that end up dropping onto Stiles are icy cool and feel like heaven.

A soft nudge against his shoulder reminds him that he didn't answer so he gives a half shrug until Derek raises an eyebrow. He gives a full shrug then and grins smugly. "If anyone asks, my freezer burned breakfast burrito I swore was okay to eat came back to bite me in the ass, literally."

"You're ridiculous," Derek chides but there's a wide grin on his face because it's no secret just how much he likes his boyfriend watching him play ball, practice or game alike. As Jackson once said, it makes the man strut his stuff like a peacock. It was the only time Jackson ever said that because soon after Derek had roped him into a headlock and noogied him hard enough to bruise. Though the accusation was never denied.

The two sit in companionable silence, fingers laced, talking only when the other players bring them into the conversation that had been going on without them. Boyd informs them of a pool party and with the climbing temperatures that are in the forecast, they're both more than happy for the invitation.

Soon after the players start to grow restless, Derek included, and they all start drifting back into the field already talking about different kinds of pitches they need to work on. Stiles clings onto Derek's hand to be bratty and puckers up his lips, it earns him a snort of amusement but also a slower kiss than the first one which Stiles presses into and quickly opens up to eagerly.

It isn't until they start to get a little carried away, too much teeth and tongue to be a modest kiss anymore, that stiles feels it when his fingers find their way and cling to Derek's bare shoulders.

The skin beneath his fingers radiates heat, and Derek's reaction is instantaneous. He flinched away, breath hissing between his gritted teeth. An apology tumbles from Stiles mouth as he jerks his hands away despite the damage already being done but it's waves away with a pained -but completely genuine- smile. When Derek stands up straight it's clear, even in their shaded shelter that the sun has taken its toll on Derek's skin. His face is a vivid pink across the bridge of his nose and cheeks, the color a reoccurring theme in various shade all along his shoulders and down his chest. And if Stiles was a betting man he would say that his back would be in the same shape.

"Someone forgot to put their sincere on I see," Stiles teases and reaches out to poke at a bit of pink skin just below his boyfriends nipple just to see it fade to white then back to its livid shade. His finger is swatted away just as he's called for back into the field by Boyd.

"Don't need any," he tries to reassure him while backing away, his fingers wrapping around his earlier discarded bat on his way. "I'll be okay."

Stiles snorts and rises up from the bench to follow after him, pointing a chastising finger at him. "Now is not the time to be mister tough guy, especially when you look like you're turning into a fire roasted tomato."

"You like fire roasted tomatoes," Derek teases cheekily before kissing the tip of the index finger in his face.

Stiles huffs and snatched his hand back and stuffs both of them under his armpits. "Mark my words Derek Hale, don't come crying to me when you get sun poisoning."

Derek's laugh is loud and amused. It shouldn't be cute but it is and all annoyance has left the younger man even as he plops back onto the bench.

As the minutes turn into and hour and then an hour and a half he watches on with his concern growing more and more. Between the two of them Stiles would be the one considered to have fair skin, okay he's white as Casper, but despite that Derek's naturally olive color skin is pretty light and wouldn't look like it would handle the sun too well unprotected for extended amounts of time. Which is extremely apparent with how he watches his skin turn pinker and pinker until he has no other choice to call it red. It makes him chew at his thumb nail and wince, just noticing now that even the exposed skin on his legs are a solid shade of angry pink.

Practice doesn't end until nearly three, when everyone decidedly they're either getting too hot and tired and hungry. Stiles stands and stretches, groaning in relief when his spine pops back into alignment.

He doesn't say anything when Derek foregoes putting his shirt back on, and when instead of drinking the bottle of water offered to him his tips the whole thing over his head. Stiles swears he sees steam rise from Derek's skin but the rational part of his brain knows he's probably just imagining things.

They make the short walk to Derek's house that's situated near the football stadium and is shared between him and three other people, two of which being Boyd and Erica the other Stiles has yet to meet but sometimes sees his shadow under the crack in the door that's right across from the bathroom.

Stiles knows their close when they pass the house, just a few houses down, with the odd sculpture in front. The first time he'd ever been invited over to the place had been right after class and he'd thought Derek had been kidding when his text said "when you pass the cut down tree with the feet and hands let me know and I'll meet you outside". It had taken another five minutes of texting and a short phone call to convince him that no he wasn't kidding.

So Stiles smiles fondly as they pass the tree and almost sighs when relief when they trudge up Derek's yard, which could use a mow if you ask him.

He can hear the voices even before they open the front door. Inside are the usual culprits, Boyd on the couch with Erica sitting like a queen in his lap and Isaac sprawled across the area run in front of the television shirtless and flipping channels a mile a minute.

As soon as Erica spots Derek she does a double take and then lets loose a long low whistle, behind her where Boyd has his chin proper up on her shoulder he shakes his head knowingly. And Isaac, sweet sweet Isaac, raises his head up from the rug and winces in sympathy. His own sunburn still red along the bridge of his nose and forehead but no longer with the sting and well on its way to peeling.

"Want me to get the blue goop?" Erica manages to offer without some sarcastic comment tacked onto the end. It goes to show that for all her sass and snark she knows when to watch that silver tongue of hers and keep it to herself.

Stiles waves her off and follows Derek down the hall who is so out of it by now that he doesn't notice that Stiles makes a detour to the hall bathroom to dig around in the cabinets for the thing of blue goop, it has an actual name and is made of aloe and things to help with sunburn but they all blissfully ignore it in favor for their own name.

He frowns and sits back on his heels and huffs, having torn the bathroom apart for the bottle of the stuff only to come up empty.

"Looking for this?" A new voice says from the doorway. Stiles jolts hard enough to loose his balance, making him plop down hard right onto his ass.

The blue goop dangles from the fingers of a person he's never seen before. Not much shorter than Stiles, slim build but not lanky, brown hair that's grown out enough to have a slight wave, and cold blue eyes. It's the eyes that make his features seem a tad bit too sharp, reptilian in a way.

"Uhh," Stiles gapes, blinking owlishly, completely at a loss for words which is something that doesn't happen very often. Ever.

The guy scoff and tosses the bottle of aloe and by pure luck Stiles catches it and clutches it to his chest.

"I'm Matt, Matt Daehler," is supplied without asking. Stiles jut nods along like thats supposed to mean a thing. The guy, Matt, roll his eyes and leans against the doorway. "I live here too, right across the hall in fact."

With a quick glance around him, sure enough the door that is always closed no matter what day or night is actually standing open. It's a far cry better than the trespasser scenario Stiles was beginning to cook up in his head.

An awkward silence starts to lull between them and Stiles resists the urge to squirm under Matts intense gaze. Matt who is still freaking staring at him, his weird freaky snake eyes boring into him like he's able to see all of his secrets if he just stares hard enough.

He looks awake first and finally climbs up from the floor and dusts away the imaginary dirt from his pants and gives an nervous laugh.

"So as nice as it was to meet you I really should be getting to Derek, who really needs some attending to with this stuff," he gestures to the clear bottle with the blue hoop inside and gives what he hope is an apologetic smile.

Matt stares him down for a few more seconds then straightens up with a small smile that's more of a grimace and a stilted, "But of course."

It isn't until Matt disappears into his room and the door is finally closed again does Stiles let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He outright sags in relief, glad to have the creepy roommate gone and moves to leave the bathroom but with a quick thought retrieves a clean washcloth from the shelf beside the door and runs it under cool water.

He finds Derek stomach down on his bed, his feet free of shoes and socks and hanging off the end of the bed. His breathing is slow and even but Stiles can tell he's only dozing, that in between state of being awake or asleep.

Carefully Stiles toes off his shoes and socks and doesn't even try to be subtle and climbs up onto the bed, swinging one leg up and over so he can straddle Derek's hips.

Derek grunt and groans but doesn't try to move him, just tilts his head to look back at him and raises an eyebrow.

"Thought I'd help you feel better," Stiles says quietly as he leans forward, mindful of keeping himself from pressing against Derek's back which is a deep angry red that even looks miserable, and places the cool damp washcloth against the back of his neck. He feels Derek shiver beneath him, and watches as goosebumps rise along his skin. Stiles grins at that, at how still Derek is beneath him and leans back so he can grab the bottle of blue goop that lies beside them momentarily forgotten.

The blob of hoops is cool in Stiles hand but heat from Derek's back radiates through it, instantly warming it as Stiles spreads a thin layer over the skin. The more that's spread, the more Derek relaxes into the mattress, sighing with relief and dark eyelashes fanning over his cheekbones as he closes his eyes.

After a final look at his handy work Stiles climbs off from his perch and stretches out onto the bed on his stomach, perfectly mirroring Derek, and watches his boyfriend rest.

A moment later he opens his eyes and gives a slow sleepy grin. "Thank you," he mumbles and shifts his head across the pillow to nudge Stiles nose with his own, giving him an Eskimo kiss that sends a flock of butterflies flourishing in Stiles stomach.

"You're welcome," he whispers back, bringing one of his hands up to slowly card through Derek's hair who pressed into the touches with a soft sigh.

He continues to do that, playing with his hair until he realizes Derek's breathing has completely evened out with a soft snore, sleep finally overtaking him. Stiles snorts quietly to himself and curls a bit closer to him, watching him sleep until his own eyes grow heavy his last thought being that he'll goop down Derek's chest as soon as they wake up.