"… and long walks on the beach," Stiles recites aloud as he types.
Derek looks over from his spot on the bed. He’s allowing this online dating profile thing to keep the pack off his back about “getting back out there,” but he draws the line at actual lies. “What?” he says. “No.”
Stiles spins to face him. “What do you mean, no? Long walks on the beach are, like, an industry standard. It basically comes prewritten in every singles ad ever.”
"Have you ever taken a long walk on the beach?” Derek asks. “If you wear shoes, you get sand in them. If you wear sandals, you get sand all over your feet. If you go barefoot, your feet get burned. And walking on sand is a pain in the ass.” Besides, beaches are always full of families and happy couples making goo-goo eyes at each other, and discarded needles and condoms and human garbage spoiling Mother Nature, and sex on the beach? No, thank you; have you ever had sand on your dick while trying to get off? That’s an experience Derek doesn’t ever need to repeat—
"What?" Derek says when he realizes Stiles is staring. And that he maybe said most of that out loud.
Stiles closes his laptop. “How do you feel about sex in bedrooms?” he asks, and Derek’s mouth goes dry.
"Uh," he says. “In favor?"