He doesn’t know his name, he doesn’t know who he is, and neither does the werewolf he’s on the run with. But he’s pretty sure they hunt monsters, because they seem to be really good at it.
“I think you are,” Derek says grudgingly.
“What?” Stiles stops trying to decide if he likes his ears and looks at him.
“My - ” Derek stops and pulls a face. “I think we’re together.” He shakes his head, as if whatever he’s feeling is hard to explain. “You feel almost familiar, everything else - the idea of anyone else coming close to me is - it makes me want to break something. You, you’re non-threatening, you’re like a vibration under the skin, all tones of motion and enthusiasm, and you’re - good.” The frown slips away, as if he’d found the word he was struggling for.
Good? Stiles supposes he can live with that.
“So does that mean you - do you find me attractive?” He can’t believe he actually asked that, once it’s out. But he does genuinely want to know. He’s trying to piece together what the hell is going on, and if they’re together then Derek must at least find him a little attractive, right? Also, it’ll be a huge ego boost if the answer’s yes.
Derek throws him a pointed look.
“I did, before I knew you were underage.”