"Date Derek Hale? "Brooding eyebrows, 24/7 man pain" Derek Hale? Well, I don’t want to die anytime soon and am not feeling particularly like a mass murderer today, so probably not his type," Stiles says, smirking.
"Move in with Stiles? Stiles, who spilled chips all over my car and instead of cleaning them up, stuffed them under a seat to decompose? Stiles, of the messy room that sports a post-explosion motif? Right," Derek says, rolling his eyes, and then leaving to meet Stiles for their anniversary dinner.
"Marry Derek? Tie myself to a man who thought a burnt out house and an abandoned train car were suitable residences for a while? Dude doesn’t even have a job, and, no, stalking strangers in the woods is not a profession," Stiles says, folding their laundry and making a note to buy more detergent when they go shopping.
"Have a family with Stiles? Stiles, who talked to Scott about poop for 30 minutes on the phone the other day? Stiles, who decided to learn how to hot wire cars and put my car in the shop for a week? That sounds like a great idea," Derek says, then excuses himself to go drink champagne and cut the cake with his new husband.
"Your friends are weird," Scott’s girlfriend says, watching as Stiles and Derek exchange insults with grins, and then kiss tenderly.
Scott smiles when their kids tackle them at the knees and insist they come play.
"The insults translate into "I love you" in asshole," Scott says, and laughs.