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Waking up in Vegas to the tune of Katy Perry’s Waking Up In Vegas, was not the kind of inception moment Stiles was prepared to deal with. The room was bright with sun which made Stiles squint and groan, his hangover making itself known. Shifting to get away from the light’s glare, Stiles became aware of an arm wrapped around his chest and stubble scrapping the back of his neck.
“What the-” Stiles froze when lips pressed against his jaw, just under his ear.
“Go back to sleep,” a deep, very familiar voice said against his skin.
“Hell.” Stiles squeaked, failing his way out from under the arm, away from the voice, and falling over the side of the bed to land on the floor in a tangle of sheets. Scrambling to free himself from the sheets, Stiles peeked over the edge of the bed, staring wide eyed and open mouthed at the other occupant of the bed.
Derek freaking Hale grinned back at him.
“Oh my god,” Stiles groaned, falling flat on his back into the pile of bedding and throwing his hands over his face.
“Oh my god!” he shouted pulling his hands back from his face and staring in horror at his left hand. There, on his fourth finger, was a band of gold.
Derek’s face appeared over the edge of the bed, smirking down at Stiles on the floor. “What?”
“I- you- there’s a ring on my finger!” Stiles sputtered, waving the hand with the ring around in the air and pointing to it with his other hand.
“Yes.” The smirk fell off Derek’s face.
“Yes?! All you’ve got is ‘yes’?!” Stiles looked up at Derek with alarm. “Who has the other one? Did I marry a hooker? Oh god, did I marry Scott?! Allison is going to kill me!”
Looking down at Stiles, blank-faced, Derek held up his left hand.