The screaming children and flashing lights weren't exactly what Derek had imagined when Stiles had introduced the idea of finally meeting face-to-face. He'll take what he can get, though, even if it means slogging through hoards of sticky children to reach the awkward teenager dressed in a palette of primary colors. "Stiles?" he asks.

"Holy mother of God, this is not happening."

To: stilinskwiz95

From: actual_wolfman

Subject: Thanks again

Message: Just wanted to say thanks again for saving my life in the woods the other day. I probably would have thrown my laptop out the window if I'd had to start the Piper's Quest from the very beginning again lol. Also – my team needs one more member for the upcoming tourney, so if you're not already signed up with another group, you can join mine if you want.

To: actual_wolfman

From: stilinskwiz95

Subject: Re: Thanks again

Message: Lol how did you know I needed a team for the tourney? I'll join, if it's okay with your friends… My name's Stiles, by the way.

To: stilinskwiz95

From: actual_wolfman

Subject: Re: Re: Thanks again

Message: It's nice to meet you, Stiles. My name's Derek.

They'd met online. On a gaming community about battling mythical creatures, to be more precise. It happened in the woods, when Stiles was running away from a group of thieves and, since he wasn't paying attention (Scott had just brought in Taco Bell when this was happening), his horse almost trampled an injured man. He stopped to help heal him, and the conversation just started from there. One thing led to another, and soon enough, they were more than just tourney mates, going on quests, fighting monsters, saving princesses together. And the whole time, they were sending messages back and forth.

Stiles had never had an online friend before, and he was pretty sure he was supposed to follow some sort of Internet safety code of conduct, but he figured since he'd already given the guy his name, what else could he do wrong?

He didn't tell Scott about it, mostly because he was pretty sure Scott would either laugh or call the police. Luckily enough, a few months after he and Derek started talking, Scott met Allison. And Allison kept him occupied. Really occupied. Stiles would groan internally every time Scott mentioned her name, which was literally all the time. He was eventually fed up enough that every time Scott came over to talk about the latest development in their relationship ("She wrinkled her nose when she laughed at something I said today, which she hasn't done before. Stiles, I think this means she really likes me") he would simply nod and grunt monosyllabic sounds of approval while focusing on typing a new message to Derek.

Scott did find out, though, about three months after he met Allison (and two months after they started dating, six weeks after their first kiss, one week after they'd really made out for the first time – Stiles no longer knew how to judge time without comparing it to Scott's love life), and Stiles wasn't surprised when Scott asked if he was completely 100% sure Derek wasn't a pedophile – He replied that no pedophile would wait more than a week to kidnap and molest an impressionable teenager. Besides, Stiles didn't think he was that impressionable. He didn't.

Now Stiles is panicking, self-consciously smoothing the folds in his bright blue vinyl apron as Derek picks his way across the play area of the kids' arcade he works at. This isn't happening, he thinks. This can't be happening. Oh my God, it's happening.

Derek smiles when he finally reaches the sweating teenager. "I have to be honest – I wasn't expecting our first meeting to be at a place where you have to be under a certain height to enjoy yourself."

"I'm about to get off," he says, as if that rules out any logic that might say they could've met after Stiles had a chance to change out of his ridiculous blue-and-yellow-striped pants. "You can wait outside, if you want. I have to change."

"No, I'm fine." Derek's still smiling, probably enjoying the scarlet flush currently creeping up Stiles' neck. Why the hell did I tell him I work here? Kicking himself, he hurries to the changing rooms in the back, stumbling over a lost toy in his scramble to get out of Derek's line of sight.

He's shocked to see Derek waiting right outside the changing room door. "Holy –" He bites back his surprise as the older man – holy shit, is he a man? – chuckles.

"Do I make you nervous?" He's smiling, and Stiles holds his breath as he stares blankly into Derek's eyes, which he notices are a really interesting shade of blue with flecks of sea green in them. Crayola doesn't know what they're missing, he thinks, and it's not until Derek is looking away, blushing, that he realizes he was thinking out loud. Just let me die now.

"So," Derek says, leading the way through the throng of screaming kids. "What do you want to do?"

"Um." Stiles hadn't thought to consider what would actually have to happen when two people meet outside the Internet for the first time – he'd been so preoccupied with not embarrassing himself in front of Derek (he really did well on that front, didn't he) that the idea of thinking of something to do had been on a completely different plane of thought. "I didn't… really… think… about that." He looks sideways at Derek, lips pursed as he self-consciously rubs a hand over his short hair. The tension in his stomach eases when Derek simply laughs, shaking his head slightly.

"I'm not surprised."

"No?"

"No. Which is why," he says, extracting two tickets from the pocket of his leather jacket (How does someone who looks like he spends his time doing dangerous things like riding motorcycles even think to join an online gaming community? Stiles thinks incredulously), "I already have tickets for that zombie movie you were talking about last week."

"No way." Stiles is flabbergasted, to say the least. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously." Derek's smile grows bigger, and it only makes the swelling feeling in Stiles' stomach get worse. He looks down at one of the tickets. "It starts in like, thirty minutes, so we should probably get going."

"Do you think I'll have time to get popcorn?" Stiles asks as they approach Derek's sleek black Camaro. Seriously, how does this guy spend so much time on the computer?

"Probably. I drive fast." Derek grins, and Stiles feels a momentary flash of horror that passes as soon as he notices the wonderful way the leather of the car seat cups his ass. Nice.

The movie's good, and Stiles thanks whatever divine being that allowed this to happen for the chance to cling to Derek's strong forearm – it is a horror movie, after all. Stiles doesn't even finish the giant tub of popcorn he'd insisted on purchasing despite the fact that they were already missing the previews by the time they arrived, he's so thrilled to be on, well, a date. At least, that's what he thinks this is.

"How'd you like it?" Derek asks as they exit the theater. The sunlight's blinding, and Stiles isn't surprised (he's somewhat aroused, actually) when he pulls out a pair of Ray Bans to shield his eyes.

"I… it was good." Stiles nods enthusiastically, catching Derek's smile from the corner of his eye. His stomach gets warm. "I thought the effects were okay."

"Just okay?" He's fiddling with his keys now, trying to find the button to unlock the doors. Stiles hears a collective pop before Derek opens the passenger side door for him. Oh, my God. He tries to calm himself enough to form a coherent response.

"Well, yeah." He finds it hard to breathe now that they're in a confined space together. "I mean –" he swallows some spit "– They were decent, don't get me wrong, but they could've been better." He shrugs, trying to stay cool and nonchalant (he has a feeling it isn't working). "I guess it was the budget or something."

"Well, I think the low-budget stuff keeps an air of the old-school horror. You know, the really good movies, like –"

"The Blair Witch Project?" He scoffs.

Derek levels him a look. "No. I was going to say something like The Shining, or –"

"So you're a movie buff, huh?" Stiles leers a bit at the faint pink spreading across Derek's face. "That's cute."

"Is it?" He puts the car into drive, quiet as he focuses on pulling out of the parking spot. "Because people normally get this glazed look in their eye when I start talking about older movies."

"Well, I'm not exactly your normal, everyday kid, am I?" Stiles likes the small smile working its way onto Derek's mouth, and he likes the fact that he's the reason for it even more.

"No, I don't believe you are."

Stiles doesn't know what it was he did, but he must have done something right because Derek's kissing him, in his car, his hands on Stiles' neck to keep him from falling into the seizure he's almost completely sure he's about to have. He's groaning for more as Derek does things with his tongue Stiles had never before imagined a tongue could be used for, and he's about to lose himself in the way it feels when Derek pulls away. "What, no, don't – don't do that." His eyes are half closed, his mouth hanging open, and he's stammering. Real sexy. Derek just smiles softly.

"I'm not sure you can handle anything else," he murmurs, a slight smirk quirking his features in a way that makes Stiles want to put his mouth over every square inch of that stubbly face. "You already seem like you're about to pass out, and we're only on first base."

"Hey, that – that is not true," Stiles protests, but he can see from the way Derek's looking at him that he's not going to be winning that debate any time soon. Pursing his lips, he leans back into his seat. "I'm not as innocent as you think I am, okay?"

"You just said this was your first kiss."

"I –" Stiles stops before he digs a deeper hole for himself. Derek's right, of course – as soon as they'd started kissing, he broke off to mumble something apologetic about never having kissed anyone before. "Whatever."

Derek chuckles. "Are you going to invite me in, then, or are you planning on sitting in my car for the rest of the night?"

Stiles looks up the driveway to the front of his house. His dad isn't home – he won't be home for another three hours – and he wants to keep Derek around, and he feels his stomach clench with a fizzy feeling when he thinks of Derek in his room, sprawled across his bed, his shirt possibly tossed onto the floor while Stiles is busy licking –

"Stiles?"

"Huh?"

"Can we go in?"

"Yeah, um. Yeah. Come on." He trips when he takes his first step out of the car, almost falling, but not quite. While Derek laughs, Stiles just takes a deep breath through his nose and chews on the inside of his lower lip. Great.

Once inside, Stiles feels supremely awkward. It had been one thing imagining Derek outside of his computer – it was a completely different thing seeing him sitting at his kitchen table, one leg propped up on the nearby counter. "Are you… hungry?" he asks. Derek shakes his head, smiling smugly. "Nope," he says, popping the 'p.'

Stiles purses his lips. Okay. "Um. Wanna see my room?" He cringes internally when Derek raises his eyebrows, but he plows forward – or, at least, tries to. "I mean, not to – not to do… anything, just, um…" He swallows. Derek's watching him, and he can't look away. "See… where I, uh… where…" He trails off, breathing through his mouth as Derek gets up and stretches, revealing a tantalizing line of dark hair leading from his navel to below the waistline of his pants that makes Stiles' breathing stop short.

"Lead the way," he says, politely gesturing for Stiles to start the procession. Stiles smiles stiffly, cursing himself repeatedly as he steps into the hallway. Derek follows silently, and Stiles notices how quiet he is, how he can barely hear his footfalls, and he's starting to imagine that he's closer that he'd have Stiles believe, almost breathing down his neck, ready to grab him from behind with a low growl –

Then he reaches his room, which looks like a scene from a refugee camp.

Stifling a shriek of horror , he hurries to pick up the clothes and debris as quickly as humanly possible while Derek picks his way across to the desk, where he sits down. "So this is where the magic happens, huh?" he says, smiling at his own wit.

"Um." Stiles stops mid-frenzy, his hands full of dirty clothes as he takes in the long, stretched-out body lounging in his gray plastic swivel chair. Derek toes the carpet, twisting this way and that as he watches Stiles. "Isn't that phrase more often used in reference to other pieces of furniture? I mean, Juno is, of course, an awesome movie, but even then, it was an armchair, and –"

"Stiles." Derek's standing now, reaching for Stiles' wrists to make him let go of the dirty laundry. "Shut up."

"I –" But they're kissing again, and Stiles forgets all about babbling incoherently as Derek's tongue is yet again doing things to his mouth he can't quite believe. He groans into the kiss as he awkwardly guides Derek across the small space until they're tripping over the side of the bed, Derek falling bodily on top of Stiles, causing the smaller teenager to let out a gasp of surprise. "You okay?" Derek asks, and Stiles pulls his face back to his own for a reply.

After a while Derek insists that they take a break. Stiles protests vehemently, and for a while he sulks – that is, until his dad comes home half an hour later. Then he finds himself profoundly relieved to be doing nothing more than lying side-by-side on his bed. "Stiles?" Stiles yelps and rolls off of the bed, scrambling to the desk as the sheriff's voice – and footsteps – get louder as he climbs the stairs. "Whose car is that in the driveway? Is that friend of yours over? I hope – oh, hi." Stiles isn't sure what it is he sees on his father's face, but he's pretty sure it wouldn't be called a pleasant expression. "You must be Derek?"

"I…" Stiles can't help but notice how Derek looks exactly like an escaped convict in a searchlight as the sheriff watches him squirm.

He scrambles to the rescue. "Dad, this is Derek, my friend from… well, you know."

"It's nice to meet you, Derek." Sheriff Stilinski smiles, and his son notices how it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Are you planning on staying for dinner?"

"Uh…" Part of Stiles is rather pleased to have the opportunity to see Derek stammer like his brain is frying, but that part of him is quickly overpowered by the ardent desire to cut this conversation short as soon as possible.

"He is." Derek shoots him a horrified look.

"Well, I hope you're okay with Stouffer's lasagna," the sheriff says, giving both boys a knowing look that says Don't think I don't know what's going on with you two..

And then he's gone, and Derek's breathing like he had just encountered a raging bull instead of a middle-aged small town sheriff. "Stiles, your dad scares me."

Stiles waves a dismissive hand. "It's his job as a dad. He just has the luck of being a cop, too."

"Does he – what does he know about – about us?"

Stiles shrugs. "Just that we met online."

"Are you sure?"

"I mean, obviously, we had a talk about Internet safety, and I'm pretty sure he was convinced you were a 40 year-old pedophile until we started talking on the phone and he heard himself that you couldn't possibly be more than at least 20, tops."

"Wouldn't your dad still not like his seventeen year-old son talking to a 20 year-old?"

"Yeah, well, it's not as bad as the first conclusion he jumped to."

Derek just nods. "Well, that's good."

Dinner is extremely uncomfortable, but all three of them manage, somehow. It's nothing special, just lasagna from the freezer with bread and a salad that's really just lettuce with dressing. Stiles is slightly embarrassed by the severely underwhelming meal, but Derek doesn't seem to care – he eats four or five servings, Stiles having lost count after three.

Later, when the table's been cleared and Derek's helped with the dishes, it's time for him to leave, and Stiles is allowed five minutes on the porch to say goodbye ("And not a second more, you understand?" his dad warns).

"So, that was a lot more awkward than I'd thought it would be," Stiles says, rocking back onto his heels as he stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets.

Derek laughs once through his nose. "Trust me, I've seen worse."

"So have I," says Stiles, "on TV."

"Yeah, well, you haven't been to some of my family dinners." Derek's looking at his feet, and the awkward, self-conscious kid Stiles suddenly sees sparks a feeling of intimacy that's been hovering around the periphery of his senses all day. He takes a step forward and puts his arms around the narrow part of Derek's waist. "What are you…" He trails off as Stiles nuzzles into the hollow at the junction of his neck and shoulder. "You're comfy," he mumbles into Derek's warm skin. Derek laughs, and Stiles feels the low rumble reverberate through his body. It feels nice.

"I still can't believe you had milk with lasagna," he says.

Stiles leans back, eyebrows furrowed. "What, I'm a growing boy."

"I guess you are." He eyes his string bean body appreciatively.

Stiles starts to argue, but closes his mouth. "That was sarcasm, wasn't it?"

Derek nods before catching Stiles' lips in a quick peck. "I should go. I don't want your dad bursting out of the house waving his shotgun at me because I kept you a second over your limit."

"But I don't want you to leave." Stiles clings tighter, only to be pried off by a reluctant Derek.

"I'll see you later." He winks, and then he's off to his car. Stiles stays on the porch as he climbs in and pulls out of the driveway. He jumps when his dad opens the door almost as soon as the sleek black shadow turns onto the next street. "Jesus, Dad, you're gonna give me a heart attack."

"Sorry." His dad shoots him a sheepish smile. "Can't you come in? It's cold out."

Rolling his eyes, Stiles comes in nonetheless, following his dad into the living room, where he sees Secret Millionaire on the TV. He sits next to his dad on the couch, and they take a moment to settle in.

"So, Stiles." His dad keeps his eyes trained on the TV as he speaks. "Is Derek…" He swallows. "Is this… something I should be worried about?"

Way to keep the peace, Dad. Stiles' stomach feels like it's about to reject the dinner it's been digesting. "Um, if you mean 'worry' in the same sense as any dad whose only child is about to embark on their first romantic encounter, then yeah, probably."

His dad nods. "Okay."

Stiles looks twice at his dad. "You – you mean – you're not worried about Derek being older than me, or the fact that two days ago you were convinced he was a 40 year-old predator?"

His dad continues watching the screen and shrugs. "Of course I'm not exactly happy that he's already graduated from high school, but I trust you enough to make the right decisions." He glances over at Stiles' slack jawed expression. "What? He seems like a nice kid."

"I just…" Stiles smiles, appreciation for his dad and the effort he's making for his son exploding through him like a nuclear bomb of warm, fuzzy feelings. "Thanks, Dad."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

They both know he's lying, though.