His excuse was that he's hella fucking awkward. No one can deny that, after all.
He and Derek had just became 'official', 'a thing', 'b/f's' or anything else you could think of calling it. They were together. Like, kissing was totally okay all of the time together. However, they were in the early stages. Ya know, where you still wear your nice clothes and try and be on your best behaviour. It didn't matter that they'd known each other for months before they'd finally gotten their shit together and got together. Stiles had reverted back to 'only just started dating' behaviour. And that is exactly why he's gotten himself into this situation.
It's another Friday night in Beacon Hills, post-Alphas and after the pack meeting, instead of leaving with everyone else, Stiles settled in to watch a few movies with his boyfriend. Derek's arm lay across the back of the couch, his fingers running gently through Stiles grown-out hair. Stiles refrains from purring his approval at the way his nails dragged across his skin gently, instead settling for moving closer to his boyfriend and pressing a kiss to his nipple through his t-shirt.
"You choose a movie and I'll get the popcorn and drinks ready?" Derek suggests after a moment, pressing a kiss to the top of Stiles head and jumping up. Unable to see any flaws in that plan, Stiles nods, crawling off the couch and towards the TV. He searches through the DVDs piled up on the side, settling quickly on Harry Potter (the third, because werewolves) and setting it up. By the time the DVD had started to play, Stiles had made his way back to the couch next to Derek, who'd appeared with popcorn and sodas. Stiles can't help but grin at how prepared his boyfriend was - he'd laid out various drink and snack options on the coffee table so that they wouldn't have to move very far and miss the movie should they get a craving for anything else. Stiles grabs a can of coke, cracking it open and taking a long gulp. With half the can finished already, he leans into Derek's arm and keeps his eyes trained on the screen, absently sipping from his can on occassion. By the time Harry was on the Hogwarts Express, he'd finished it and was reaching for another. Stiles was one of those people who finished all their popcorn and soda before the adverts had finished without even realising when he was at the cinema.
It was as Prof. Lupin was beginning to transform that Stiles noticed heavy his bladder felt and thought he should properly stop drinking so carelessly. He finishes the rest of the can in his hand - there was only a few mouthfuls left after all - and refrains from grabbing another, locking his hands together and resting them on his lap. He'd never thought he was particularly shy, but he found that he hated Derek knowing when he was using the bathroom. Therefore, he avoided using the bathroom when he was with Derek. He was putting it down to Derek's werewolf hearing and the fact that he'd no doubt be able to hear Stiles peeing. Gah, awk, Stiles grimaces, shifting uncomfortably. He'd have to go home once this movie was over because things were getting painful fast.
"You okay?" Derek asks, playing with his hair absently. Stiles nods, shooting him what he hoped was a reassuring smile and trying to minimize his shifting. As Harry and Hermione said goodbye to Sirius, Stiles begins to shake his leg, no longer paying attention to the movie and just wishing it would hurry the fuck up and end. Derek rests a hand on his leg, forcing him to stop the excessive movement and Stiles nearly cries as the need to pee intensifies.
"Well, that was awesome but I've got a curfew," Stiles exclaims the moment the closing credits begin, jumping up and turning to Derek. "So I best be off. We'll do this again? Like, tomorrow? Or later, if you like. Call me about it."
"Stiles," Derek smirks, amused but confused by his boyfriends behaviour. "You are remembering that I picked you up this afternoon? And that I'm going to be dropping you off?"
Stiles, miraculously, manages to keep smiling. "Oh, right, yes, of course! I forgot about that. I'm so used to taking my baby everywhere that just, POOF, gone, forgotten, just like that. Sorry."
"It's cool," Derek laughs, standing up and kissing Stiles, who was shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. "Wanna go for a walk first, though? You seem a little restless."
"Did you not hear the curfew part?"
"Ah," Derek nods, "okay. Maybe not. Get your coat and shoes on, I've just gotta piss and then I'll be with you."
Stiles watches his boyfriend cross the room to the bathroom, barely holding back a whimper. He refrains from doing the gotta-pee dance, grabbing his coat and tugging it on while trying to block out the sound of his boyfriend peeing. It didn't help that Derek never bothered to shut the door. Crossing one leg over the other, he allows himself a quick squeeze of his dick through his jeans. After a full three minutes - three fucking minutes people - Derek comes out of the bathroom and grabs his leather jacket and car keys, resting his hand on Stiles back as he urges him out of the loft. Stiles goes gladly, darting down the stairs impatiently as he waits for Derek to lock up. For once, he reaches the Camaro before Derek. Unfortunately, the cold air was doing nothing to help his bladder. Stiles dances on the spot on the passengers side of the car, hands shoved into his jean pockets so that he could hold himself without anyone seeing. Unfortunately, the grip through jean pockets? Not the greatest. He musters up a smile for Derek who peers over the roof at him, giving him a weird look.
"It's cold," Stiles excuses, motioning for him to hurry up and unlock the car. Hopefully it'd be easier to hold when he was sitting down. No sooner had the words left his mouth, Derek unlocks the car and Stiles gasps in relief, hurrying inside the car. Sitting down wasn't as much of a relief as he'd hoped. He shoves his hands into his jacket, re-adjusting his hold on himself and hoping that he can wait until he gets home. And, hopefully, without Derek becoming aware of his predicament. That'd be embarassing. Sorry I pissed in your lovely car, but I was too shy to use your bathroom? Also, I was hoping you weren't aware that I have human body functions? Yeah, that'd go down well.
About ten minutes away from his house, Stiles realised he was in serious trouble. He was fidgetting non-stop in an attempt to find a position where he wouldn't have to piss, and Derek kept glancing over at him with concern. He was pretty sure Derek knew he had to go to the toilet by now. Thankfully, he had a boyfriend nice enough not to mention it. Stiles continues fidgeting, settling for his last resort when they're four minutes away. He strokes himself discreetly, working up a semi. That'd help him hold back the waterfall of pee that was threatening to make an appearance until he could get home.
Finally, fucking finally, they pull up outside his house.
"Thanks for the ride," Stiles says, leaning across the seat - ouch, gear stick digging into bladder, fucking ouch - and kissing Derek quickly before darting out the car as he exclaims, "talk to you soon!"
He rushes up to his door, fumbling with his keys in the lock - now doing a very obvious gotta-pee dance in full view of the headlights, so there is no way Derek doesn't know now - and slamming the door shut after him once he's inside. He has to take a moment at the bottom of the stairs, hunched over with his hannds shoved down his pants, a death grip on his cock. He whimpers, dropping to his knees on the bottome step and struggling to undo his button and zip. He strokes his dick a few times, working back up to the semi hardness he'd reached in the car and continuing up the stairs slowly, still holding himself. When he reaches the top, he realizes that he could hear the shower running.
"Dad, dad, dad," Stiles whimpers, stopping in front of the bathroom door and hitting it with his fist, leaning against the wall with his legs crossed tightly. "Dad, you gotta get out the bathroom."
"Just give me ten minutes, Stiles!" his dad calls out, completely obvlious to his sons situation out in the hallway.
"No, dad," Stiles repeats, sounding whiny and- shit, was he crying? The Sheriff pulls back the shower curtain, reaching to turn the shower off as he climbs out. He quickly dries himself off, pulling on the clothes he'd been wearing before his shower and swinging the door open to find Stiles on the floor, hunched over himself with his hands shoved between his legs. He rocks back and forth, glancing up at his dad with an apologetic look.
"I can't move, dad, I can't fucking move, oh my God, I'm going to piss myself," the teenager sobs pathetically, looking away from the Sheriff as he blushes furiously.
"Stiles, the loo is right there. Less than six steps away. You can make it," the Sheriff tries to reassure him, taking a hold of his arms and trying to pull his son to his feet. Stiles makes it half way up, before letting out a sob and dropping onto his knees again, clutching at himself desperately.
"Go away please," Stiles begs him. With a sigh, he realizes that it'd be for the best. His son didn't need the extra embarassment. He heads down the hallway into his room, glancing back to see Stiles making another attempt to get into the bathroom.
Stiles shuffles forward on his knees, breathing heavily as he tries to hold on just a tiny bit longer. Halfway through the bathroom door, he starts leaking. Another shuffle forward, he can't stop himself. He whimpers, still holding his dick as he starts peeing uncontrollably. He loosens his grip, knowing that the battle was lost and instead moans in relief. It felt so good to finally pee. His jeans clings to him as he soaks them, but for the moment he finds himself unable to care. This was almost better than orgasms. After a minute or so, his stream slows down. Stiles sighs, completely exhausted, opening eyes he hadn't realised he'd shut and blushing when he surveys the damage he'd done. He stands up, feeling uncomfortable in his now soaking jeans.
The only small mercy was that neither Derek nor his das had witnessed him lose control of his bladder like a toddler.