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“Stiles, I think we should talk.”
“Dad I'm kind of busy. And kind of naked.” Stiles answers his dad through the bathroom door. It's partially true, because he's in loose boxers and nothing else. He's got toothpaste sliding down the side of his chin, and his skin is still candy apple red from the heat of the shower. “What is it?” He asks around the toothbrush in his mouth.
“You're going on a date.”
“What gives you that idea?”
“Stiles, I love you, but you shower about once a week.”
Stiles makes an indignant face at the mirror. “One, rude. Two, point?”
“This is your third shower since Wednesday.”
Stiles stops to think, and realizes his dad is right. “I'm turning over a new leaf?” But it sounds stupid to even his own ears. “Okay, okay, yes I have a date.”
“Were you planning to tell me you're dating someone?”
“It's, uh, new?”
“Stiles...”
“Newish? I dunno, dad. It was just nice to have something that was mine, y'know? Not your business, not pack business, my business.” He spits and rinses out his mouth, spitting that out to hear his dad sigh. “I'm sorry.” Stiles frowns into the towel he uses to wipe excess toothpaste and mouthwash foam off his face.
“I'm not mad, Stiles,” if anything he sounds amused, “I just would like to know these things. And if I get to meet them?”
Stiles stares at his reflection, pinching at his skin and turning to examine the curve of his back, the proverbial chip on his shoulder, the sort of things Danny might look for whenever they get there. “I guess. I should ask him, though, and make sure he's comfortable with it.” Stiles watches his own lips say 'he' and 'him' as easy as breathing.
“So it is a guy?”
“You don't sound surprised.”
“You can only catch your son at so many gay bars and raves before beginning to wonder.”
Stiles laughs. He finally reaches for the doorknob and pulls open the door. “S'okay?”
“Yeah, it's okay.” His dad smiles back, claps a hand on his shoulder. “So, text him, whoever this guy is.”
Stiles nods dutifully.
“However if it's Derek Hale I'm not letting you leave the house until you're thirty.”
Stiles' 'disgusted' face must be pretty convincing because his dad breaks into a side-splitting laugh. His dad smiles at him and leaves him to his business. Stiles slips into his room and grabs his phone.
To: Danny-Boy
dad wants to meet you, that okay?
From: Danny-Boy
Course. He won't shoot me, will he?
To: Danny-Boy
as long as you aren't secretly Derek I think you're safe
Grinning at the stupid little emoticon Danny sends back to him, Stiles hurriedly sets about getting dressed. Last minute, he changes into his batman boxer-briefs so that there aren't any unsightly wrinkles in his blue jeans. He reaches for his vintage Static Shock shirt before figuring it's only polite and proper planning to make sure everything matches. He instead grabs his favorite Batman t shirt—worn and faded in spots, a few bleach stains and maybe just small enough and tight enough to entice Danny.
He's shrugging on a vibrant yellow and gray flannel when his dad knocks again. “Come in.” He says, examining himself in the small little mirror he keeps hanging on his wall. His dad walks in and sits on the edge of his bed, looking around Stiles' bedroom with a little concern. “I'll clean this weekend.” He promises without intent.
“Stiles,” his dad says, “this seems pretty serious. It feels serious.”
Stiles stops shooting himself winks and charming grins, and faces his dad. “It could be,” he replies, “it definitely could be.” Officially, he and Danny are a month old couple, but it felt like things had been bubbling since that first detention two months ago.
“Do I get to meet him?”
Stiles nods and reaches for his phone again. “He should be here in fifteen minutes.”
“And it isn't Derek Hale? I know you think not telling me things will make it easier, but that isn't true. I also would hate it if you'd resent me for shooting your boyfriend on sight.”
Stiles aims a half-hearted kick for his dad, and purposefully misses. “It's definitely not Derek. Just, no.”
His dad laughs all the way down the stairs and is only just beginning to stop when the doorbell rings. Stiles leaps at the excuse to get away from his dad, and grins stupidly wide at Danny standing on his doorstep. “Hey you,”
“Hey yourself,” Danny says as he opens his arm. Stiles all but launches himself forward, relishing Danny's arms wrapping around him. “So, your dad?”
“Johnathon Stilinski,” comes floating over Stiles' shoulder. John holds out a hand to Danny, nodding. “Danny, good to see you again.”
“Likewise.”
Stiles watches them silently. Briefly, he entertains the realization that Danny has met other people's parents before, other guy's parents. This is probably a walk in the park for him. That doesn't stop Stiles' nerves from beginning to fray as his dad's laugh lines try to strike up an intimidating conversation with Danny's eyebrows.
Eventually, their hands disconnect and Stiles feels his dad kiss his forehead. “Back by one.” He commands, then retreats into the house. Stiles' smile hurts his face because jackpot.
“Excited?” Danny asks as he and Stiles clamber into the car.
“Latest curfew I've ever had!” And, okay, maybe he's a little juvenile compared to Danny, but that's sort of what makes them work so well. “So, where are we going?”
“I figured we could catch an easy dinner at Red Robin or something, and then see a late night showing of The Dark Knight Rises.”
Stiles bounces in his seat. “Perfect.” He ignores the giddy hop-skip-jump that his heart does, as Danny holds out his hand palm up and Stiles slides his fingers into the spaces Danny's own leave. He fiddles with the radio dial until Danny forces a CD into the player, and bats Stiles' hand away.
)
To: Danny-Boy
tonight was seriously great
From: Danny-Boy
I'm glad
To: Danny-Boy
so hey, about school on Mon.
To: Danny-Boy
I know you were saying that we should keep it on the DL but I'd really love to
To: Danny-Boy
y'know. All that junk
From: Danny-Boy
All that junk?
To: Danny-Boy
you know what I mean
From: Danny-Boy
Unfortunately, I really do. However, I'd like that too ;) I'll pick you up Monday morning?
To: Danny-Boy
sure. does this mean I can change your name in my phone?
From: Danny-Boy
What? You don't think it's funny?
To: Danny-Boy
I'd rather have something a little more indicative of our status
From: Danny-Boy
I'd like that too
To: Danny-Boy
<3
)
The weekend passes in a ridiculously busy manner. Danny gets pressured by his parents to start looking into colleges, Stiles ends up being stuck with Werewolf Babysitting Duty and the Hale house still doesn't have wi-fi, so it would've been completely counterproductive to have Danny come over and just sit there. (Though Stiles would like to cross off that particular cliché off his list, the whole ditching the babysitting to make out with the devilishly handsome boyfriend.)
By the time Monday comes, Stiles is thankful that Danny is the one stuck driving, because running with wolves—literally—never stops being exhausting. But because Danny is literally the best boyfriend ever, he's got doughnuts and coffee waiting. Stiles leans over and pecks him on the cheek before taking the morning treats into his lap and sighing with glee.
“I literally love you right now.”
“Remember that next time I kick your ass at C.O.D.”
Stiles sticks his tongue out, but he does tuck it away.
)
Of course, there's no dramatic reactions from their friends. They covered that base the week after things became official, with Scott and Erica and Lydia being perfectly happy to accept it, Isaac seemed a little defensive but Boyd talked him down. Jackson was the one who's stormed off, growling and nails sharpening, and hair sprouting on his face. They'd let him go what he needed to do, and he hadn't come back to the meeting. While he still hadn't spoken to Danny or Stiles, he was still including himself in pack activities, which Derek said would have to be enough.
However, anyone outside the pack sort of flips their shit.
Girls coo over them—which Danny tells them is pretty normal—and the guy's reaction are split even between not giving a fuck and giving far too many fucks. Danny holds his hand a little tighter when some stares are a little too personal, and Stiles guides him down all the right hallways to avoid all the wrong people.
At practice later, Finstock simply looks them up and down and says that if he finds anything suspicious in the locker room, they're cleaning it up. (At which, Stiles blushes hard and tries to squeeze himself into his locker. Danny laughs it off, but the tips of his ears redden too.)
)
“So?”
“Not as bad as it could've been.” Danny's answers the silent question as they walk to his car. “Could've done with a little more support from Jackson but..”
“He'll come around.” Stiles pauses and bites his lip. “Won't he?”
Danny sighs and pulls out of the school parking lot. “I can't say. I don't think he gets it, why I chose you over him.”
“You chose me over him?”
“Course.” Danny's eyes flicker to Stiles then back to the road. “The night of our first sleepover, he came over. You know that, and you know how he gets.” Danny shrugs. “I wasn't going to let him take over my life. I've let him chase away other boyfriends, even prospects of potential boyfriends. I let him because I know he needs someone, and that I'm usually the only person who can properly be that person.
“But I chose you over him, and he hates me for it.”
By the time they're in Stiles' driveway, Danny looks far too sad. Stiles brushes his knuckles against Danny's jaw and sighs through his nose. “I'm sorry.”
Danny blinks at his steering wheel, then faces Stiles. “I'm not.”
“You wanna come in?” Stiles can't help but notice that his dad's car is gone, and probably won't be back until late into the night.
“Sure.”
They haven't even kissed yet. They hug a lot, and hold hands, and kiss each other on the cheeks and foreheads and hands. They talk in close quarters, hushed tones. Stiles hasn't made a move, and he has a sinking suspicion that Danny is worried they'll kiss and everything will come crashing down. Stiles knows it isn't true, because he's never felt more sure of anything than he has of Danny, but he isn't sure how to reassure Danny of the same thing.
They set themselves up shoulder to shoulder on Stiles' bed, door left just a bit open. They've got their chem books out and notebooks and pencils scattered around when Stiles goes and breaks the silence.
“Why did you pick me?”
Danny looks up. “Huh?”
“If you let Jackson run off other boyfriends before, why did I get to stay?” Stiles doesn't mean to sound so vulnerable, so small, but he guesses that in the same way Danny isn't sure of Stiles' sexuality, Stiles' isn't so sure that Danny won't realize Stiles is simultaneously the smartest and most idiotic person on the planet—and leave him for it.
“You're different.”
Stiles doesn't take his eyes off the chemistry book. That isn't reassuring enough, he tells himself and ignores the light dose of fear running under his skin.
“I don't know,” and Danny laughs softly. “It was like.. you've always been a thought in the back of my mind. There's no way you couldn't have been, with you constantly inserting yourself into my life. And all of a sudden you were more than just background noise—you were the main attraction, the center of attention. I don't know why it took an hour of detention alone for me to figure it out, but I did, and I'm glad.”
Stiles doesn't object or flinch away when Danny reaches for his hand.
“I'm not going anywhere, Stiles.”
Stiles' face sets in determination. “Neither am I.”
“Yeah?” Danny grins, because he does believe Stiles.
“Yeah.” Stiles nods, turning his head slowly to look at Danny. He leans in with lips itching to purse, but Danny stops him.
“Not yet, but soon.”
Stiles flushes pink. “Soon.” He agrees, and they settle into their homework again.