"I have a question."
"And I've got an answer."
Derek rolled his eyes, fingers pressing tighter into Stiles' hips. Stiles wiggled slightly, trying to get comfortable as Derek continued to look at him and not answer his question. He raised his eyebrows as high as he could, making a "go on" gesture with his hand, but Derek just chuckled, biting a trail across his stomach.
He was forced to wiggle again, leaning back into the pillow and carding a hand through Derek's hair. They had just moved into their apartment in Palo Alto (moving meaning that they carried boxes upstairs and eaten takeout on the floor and then proceeded to bring out pillows and blankets, making a nest on the floor, and then having sex for a good hour) and it was past midnight. School didn't start for another week so they wouldn't have to wake up early in the morning, but that didn't stop Stiles from feeling sleepy.
"Der, question, you have one, what is it?"
"Impatient."
"Curious."
"How so?"
"Because sometimes I think you know me better than I know me," Stiles said. "So, I'd like to know what this question is."
That got him ignored.
Stiles sighed, leaning back into the giant pile of pillows and quilts and comforters, giving into Derek pressing against him. And it wasn't exactly giving in. Derek was very into taking care of Stiles before, during, and after sex. There was no way in hell he was complaining, but he kind of wanted to try it for himself. He wanted to be the one to take care of Derek for once, but right now he was just content to let the older man do what he needed to do.
Well he would be if it hadn't been for Derek bringing up the question thing.
What he had said was true, Derek knew him inside and out and there weren't any secrets between them. That fact made Derek's question gnaw at him even more. What did Derek want to? Did he think Stiles was keeping a secret? Was Derek the one keeping a secret? Was Derek's name not really "Derek"? Was he in the Witness Protection Program? Was the mafia after the McHale family? Was the McHale family the mafia? Was Stiles being initiated into the mafia?
"Do I have to go through some sort of weapons training to join the mafia?"
"Stop thinking, Stiles."
"I'll stop thinking when you tell me what's up."
"Fine," Derek sighed, moving up and pressing their chests together.
Stiles spread his legs wider to accommodate for Derek and Derek cupped his face with his hands, bringing their mouths together. And that was nice, but he kind of wanted to get to something else.
Like the question.
"Derek, seriously, what's up?" he asked, prying his mouth away and groaning in aggravation when Derek's mouth just moved to his neck.
"It's kind of stupid."
"Can't be."
"When I tell you you're going to think it's stupid."
"Try me."
Derek's mouth left his neck and he hovered over him, looking down uncertainly. Stiles brought a hand up to his face, thumb brushing against his stubble.
"What's your name?"
Stiles almost let a laugh come out of him, because that was a pretty stupid question, but oh- oh. That, well, okay.
Yeah, Derek didn't know his real name, did he?
"I was just thinking about it when we were filling out the lease for this place," Derek said. "I know everything about you. I know your favorite cereal and how you take your coffee and your favorite memory of your mom and how you got the scar above your left knee and where to touch you to make you fuckin' scream."
"Derek!" Stiles hissed, swatting at his shoulder.
"What?" Derek chuckled. "No one's here. Anyway, Stiles I know you, but I don't know your real name. I don't need to see your birth certificate or anything, I just want to know."
"Maybe I should call my dad and get him to bring the certificate," Stiles mused. "I'll call him in the morning; it'll be great for you to see the real thing."
"Who's stalling now?"
Point taken.
"It's just- I was named after my mom's dad," Stiles said. "He died when I was five and I barely remember him, but according to my parents I thought he was the coolest guy ever. There are so many pictures of him with me when I was a baby and a toddler and we share the same name and it's just so... weird. It's really weird."
"Is that why you go by a nickname?"
"No, not really," Stiles shrugged. "My mom gave me the nickname an hour after I was born. My grandparents still used my real name though and my parents too on occasion. It wasn't until after Grandpa died that I told everyone to stop using it."
Derek didn't say anything after that, probably expecting him to continue. So, he did.
"Y'know, the watch I wear all the time? The silver one you say doesn't suit me at all?"
"Yeah."
"It was his," Stiles said. "I don't use his name, but I might as well wear the watch."
Derek grinned at that, pressing his lips to Stiles' forehead and Stiles let out a little sigh, his eyes closing. He hadn't told anyone that, not even Scott. But of course Derek would be the one to get it out of him.
"If you don't want to tell me your name, that's fine."
"It's Genim."
He pressed his lips together and opened up his eyes, looking at Derek who was just hovering over him.
"Genim," Derek repeated.
Stiles nodded, trying to ignore the warm curl in his stomach. It'd been a long time since anyone had called him that and Derek saying it made him want to smile and cry at the same time.
"I like it," Derek said. "I think I'll stick with 'Stiles' though."
A sense of relief came over him and he smiled up at Derek before taking his face in his hands and bringing him down for another kiss.
Or two.
Or ten.
Or twenty.
Who was really even counting?
