My fave dude, I wrote you anotha one! Here’s #19:
“And that’s how you ruin a life. Congratulations.”
“I don’t know what you do with the pack, but you’ve let your grades slip–”
“–Dad come on–”
“–and I won’t have you missing anymore school–”
“–Dad I–”
“–and I sure as hell won’t continue to come home to you not being here–”
“–Dad–”
“–Stiles! Enough. You’re grounded. To and from school, no video games, you can keep you laptop for school only. I expect you to be here. I’ll have Ms. Winkie next door check in on you if it comes down to that,” his father snapped with finality.
Stiles deflated and scrubbed a hand over his face. This wasn’t fair. Maybe a few of his grades have slipped a letter grade, maybe his attendance has gone to shit, and maybe he hasn’t been home as often. The pack needed him though. He was the Google-Guy, the man with the plan, the bro with the brains.
They’d probably sink with out him…or something.
“Oh my God, seriously? This is what I get for helping save the town?” Stiles asked.
His father crossed his arms, “you’re seventeen Son, focus on physics or something.”
“Scott is gonna die without me! Lydia is gonna break a heel! Derek is probably gonna get in a pissing match with Peter!” Stiles tried, arms waving around to emphasize his point.
“I’m trying to keep you safe, maybe prolong your life too?”
Stiles rolled his eyes and started off to the stairs turning back to stay, “and this is how you ruin a life. Congratulations Daddy-o!”
As he marched up the stairs he could hear his father mumble something about “angsty teenagers” which ouch. Stiles was not an angsty teenager, he just wanted to look out for his friends, his pack. Was that too much to ask? Obviously it was because he was under house arrest.
He got to his room, gasping when his skin was met with cold air from the open window–
Open window?
His eyes finally landed on Derek who was on his bed, passed out and curled around one of his pillows. Stiles shut his door and locked it behind him, quietly took off his shoes, before crossing his room to the bed. The man looked content and relaxed, mouth parted with soft snores. A few months ago he might’ve freaked out over Derek Hale just being in his bed randomly. However recently they’ve been hanging out…just the two of them, which was weird at first but slowly it’s become something they both enjoy. Maybe even something they both look forward to.
They didn’t have a label yet.
It didn’t matter because Stiles still gets to see Derek all soft and mushy, sleeping on his bed like a little wereangel. Stiles crawled up the bed, flopping down only for Derek’s eyes to flicker open suddenly. Arms wrapped around him and Stiles found himself becoming Derek’s replacement for the pillow.
“You smell like shit.”
“Literally or metaphorically?” Stiles asked which got him a flick to the ear.
“You smell like anger and anxiety, what happened?”
Stiles paused before letting out a sigh, hiding his face in Derek’s chest, “my dad grounded me for being with the pack too much.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, so I’m on lockdown until I die.”
Derek’s hand ran through his hair, “I’m here. So lockdown isn’t that bad.”
“Since when are you this good with words?” Stiles teased, looking up with a smirk.
A quick flutter of kisses were pressed along his jaw and face, and Derek pulled back with a shrug. Stiles chuckled and pressed himself back into the older man, his hands fiddling with the soft cotton of his henley. Derek held him close, giving him an update of some pack stuff that happened after he left.
ASK ME PROMPTS FOR THE DRABBLE CHALLENGE!
Hello! How about 19?
Published
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