Stiles hates the beach.
Hates it. With the fire of a thousand burning suns.
Convenient, since burning is about the only thing he does at the beach. He’s all pale skin and freckles! Even with sunscreen, it takes about half an hour for him to start burning.
Combined with the fact that he had a sort of bad – okay, awful – experience with water not too long ago, he isn’t thrilled when someone in the pack mentions going to the beach. Everyone immediately jumps on the idea and suddenly it’s become a whole pack thing.
A thing for the whole pack.
He tries to get out of it. He really does.
But through a combination of puppy eyes (Scott) and bullying (Erica and Lydia), he ends up agreeing. His only comfort is that Derek looks just as unwilling and unhappy as he feels.
Maybe they’ll be curmudgeons together in the shade.
The day of reckoning arrives and Stiles is clutching his giant bottle of high octane sunscreen like it’s his only hope (it is).
He has a giant umbrella he plans to park himself under and is debating whether or not he can get away with wearing long sleeves and pants. Or if he’ll overheat and die of dehydration.
It wasn’t until he’d looked in the mirror and saw all of his scars that he’d discovered another reason why going to the beach was a bad idea.
These days, Stiles doesn’t make for a very attractive picture (not that he ever was). He’s surprisingly hairy and it’s not hot like Derek’s newly regrown chest hair. He’s lean and toned but no defined abs. Certainly, nothing compared to the super hot and athletic werewolves he’s surrounded by.
Then there are the scars. Marks of a violent life.
Things have calmed down – a good thing too since most of them are off at college.
He’s actually proud of the scars. They show his strength, that he survived. They’re battle scars and he can’t be ashamed about protecting his friends. It’s just that…
The few times he’s tried to hook up with someone, they look at the scars and find a reason to be somewhere else. It’s irritating because they’re a mark of his strength and tenacity. It’s a total mood killer.
Stiles is packed and ready to go when, all of a sudden, he decides that he’s too old to bow to peer pressure and that he isn’t going.
Sure, he wants to spend time and have fun with the pack. Except nothing about their plans will put him in the mood for fun. He’ll spend the day miserable and hiding under the umbrella while everyone else frolics.
No, thank you!
He texts everyone to cancel and ignores all the replies and entreaties. When Erica threatens to come and kidnap him, he sends another text that clearly communicates that he isn’t going to budge and they won’t like what happens if they push him.
Stiles is surprised at how great he feels about the decision. It feels like he’s taken another step towards growing up.
He loves the pack. Always will.
But it’s so easy, sometimes, to let himself be pulled along with them. Let himself be pressured into doing things he doesn’t like or doesn’t want to do. To put their needs above his own.
For the most part, that’s okay. Pack always comes first.
Always will.
But a beach day isn’t the same thing as rushing into danger to protect them. He can be a little selfish – just this once. Put himself and his needs first.
He can do this and not feel guilty.
It surprises Stiles when Derek shows up in his room a few hours after the pack’s departure.
“Hey, dude. Shouldn’t you be with the pack?” Stiles idly wonders.
“I don’t like to swim,” Derek says and Stiles understands. They share the same water-related trauma, after all.
“Yeah. I hate the beach. I can’t spend the day in the sun without getting a wicked sunburn. And while I’ve made my peace with being the ugly duckling in the pack, I didn’t feel like dealing with other people’s disgust with my body. Not when I’m finally feeling good about it,” Stiles explains.
It’s still a little strange to be so open with Derek. While he is Stile’s alpha – and has actually become a very good alpha – they’ve only recently become something resembling friends. Stiles would say they were friends if not… for the undercurrent of sexual tension. He pretends not to notice because he isn’t sure how he feels about it.
Being attracted to Derek is easy. Dude is the hottest person Stiles has ever seen. But it’s only recently that he’s gotten to know who Derek is behind the pretty face. Behind the angst, pain, and anger.
Stiles likes that person. A lot. He’s just not sure what it means or what he wants it to mean. So he ignores it. Focusing instead on getting to know Derek. On being his friend.
Derek just nods at Stiles’ explanation. Eyebrows furrowed, he looks at Stiles – who never put a shirt on because it’s hot, “Why would people be disgusted by your body?”
Stiles can feel his ’like’ for Derek tipping into love at his honest puzzlement, “It’s mostly the scars. I have it on good authority that they’re gross. So say the people I’ve tried to hook up with at college,” he punctuates his statement with a shrug.
Derek’s frown deepens, “But you’re so pretty and attractive.”
It sends a jolt down Stiles’ spine because what?
He doesn’t doubt Derek. Derek doesn’t lie to packmates. He grew up with wolves and the knowledge that all lies would be detected. It’s why he’s always been so brutally honest.
It’s the… absentminded way Derek had said it. Like it was obvious. Like commenting that the sky was blue.
The sky is blue and Stiles is pretty.
Mere facts about the world, hardly worthy of a comment.
Stiles can feel a blush creeping down his chest. The chest Derek’s been staring at. The sight of it or maybe some change in his scent jolts Derek out of his head, eyes snapping up to meet Stiles'.
And now Derek is blushing.
They spend a long moment just looking at each other, blushing.
It’s ridiculous.
Stiles laughs and gestures to Derek, “Come here and kiss me, big guy. I think it’s time to resolve our sexual tension. The pack’s away and we have time to play.”
Derek groans at the silly rhyme but drops onto the bed, laying on top of Stiles and bringing their lips together.
It’s easy.
Easier than Stiles imagined.
It’s also so much better.