pale-silver-comb:

*coughs* John…..John. (I AM SORRY, NONNIE. I CAN’T ABIDE BY CANON. I CANT.) 

I have to say, I really wish there were more fics out there that had this trope because I really, really love it. I think what I love most about it is because it’s all about Derek and his issues with trust and touch. I am very interested in the notion that Derek isn’t comfortable with people touching him after the fire because of what he went through with Kate but he is comfortable with paying someone to touch him because that leaves him in control. 

Laura is the one who suggests a professional cuddler because she knows her brother and Derek is either going to find himself very badly touch starved for years to come or he’s going to fall into another bad-touch sexual relationship out of some guilt ridden punishment trip. There is no in between with Derek. And so, she researches and finds Stiles. She likes him immediately because the people who leave reviews on his website all have one thing in common: that he loves to talk. Laura knows Derek isn’t much of a talker, especially these days, but she thinks it couldn’t hurt to have someone who isn’t afraid of communication, and possibly someone who might actually get Derek to talk back. Lord knows she’s tried to get Derek to talk; to her, to a therapist. Nothing has worked. But maybe this will. 

Derek is hesitant about Stiles – “what kind of name is Stiles anyway?” – but he has to admit, the idea of being held is….kind of nice. No sex. No complications. Just someone he pays to cuddle with him for an hour every week; a simple and smooth transaction that couldn’t possibly lead to anything bad. 

The problem first starts when he sees Stiles because, in one word, he’s gorgeous. Derek is kind of annoyed he doesn’t stop being gorgeous even when he half trips in the hallway and makes a lame cuddling joke, fishing a spoon out of his back pocket and with a truly impressive eyebrow waggle says, “wanna spoon?” Derek privately wonders if Stiles brought the spoon from home, if he opens with that joke with all his new clients, or if he stole the spoon from some coffee shop on the way over, struck by sudden inspiration. Derek is kind of frustrated when he finds himself hoping it’s the second one. 

Stiles is strangely anal about his job. He treats “cuddling procedures” like it’s BDSM, or something. He asks Derek at least thirty questions, only half of which Derek is able to answer without his cheeks colouring:

“Have you ever hired a professional cuddler before?” No.

“Being a werewolf – yes, I can tell you’re a werewolf, don’t look so surprised – would you prefer I didn’t wear any odours? Body spray, cologne, that sort of thing?” Clean. Just, uh, clean is good. 

“Would you like me to make a playlist for us to cuddle to? Those are very popular.” No, that’s really not necessary.

“How do you feel about versatile spooning options?” Oh. I, um….could you….I mean…..would you do the…..I just want….. “No problem, big guy.”

Their first session is a little awkward and he feels downright silly handing Stiles the money after, but he has to admit, he didn’t….dislike it. In fact, three hours later, he texts Stiles to book another session. By session four, Derek has gotten over his initial embarrassment and just learns to enjoy being held. Stiles talks about a lot of things, tracing his fingers over Derek’s arms, his face, his hands: he talks about why people need contact and why it’s not stupid or something to be made fun of; he talks about Star Wars and his dad; when he finds out Derek likes history, he spends their entire eighth session talking about the Trojan War – “I know it’s not real history. I was going to try and learn about an actual war for you but I got side tracked when I found out, like, half of The Iliad is about two dudes in love. How cool is that???” He then spends an extra forty minutes talking to Derek about queer censorship in history textbooks (somehow managing to work the history of the male circumcision in there). Derek wants to tell him the session is technically over, but for some reason (he’d really rather not confront) he stays quiet and lets Stiles’ voice wash over him, before falling asleep. (He later learns when Laura tried to pay him for the over-time, Stiles had blushed furiously and told her it was on him, before running out of the apartment and muttering something about “rules”.)

Session fifteen is when Derek realises Stiles is the most important person in his life, aside from Laura and Cora. And not only that, but it’s happening again: his heart is racing and his palms are sweating, and what’s worse? He’s daydreaming. Not many people know Derek is a daydreamer. Most people think he probably just sits and broods or occupies every waking hour either working out or reading. Even Laura teases him about it. Derek, however, is a big day dreamer. His romantic day dreams have changed over the years: when he first met Paige, he imagined her at his basket ball games and what prom night might be like; with Kate, he had silly fantasies of introducing her to his family, of teaching her about the full moon and opening up about his history. Derek knows day dreaming is dangerous. At least, for him. It’s always led to bad things. But he can’t help it, even now. 

Because with Stiles it’s different. 

When he day dreams about Stiles, he imagines holding his hand and what it might be like to bury his face in his neck, knowing Stiles would already know what that means because Stiles always knows. And not in some calculating, malicious way, like Kate. It’s a though Stiles files aspects of Derek’s life away like they are facts that might come in handy for a game of trivial pursuit. He plays out silly domestic fantasies in his head where he is trying to make them pancakes and Stiles starts a food war, covering them both in flour and jam. He imagines what it might be like to have Stiles hold him after sex and tell him he’s good, that he did good; imagines hearing Stiles say, “I’ll see you at home” and texting Derek lame jokes throughout the day until he does.   

When Stiles comes over for their 15th session, he’s a mess. He’s obviously been crying and Derek can’t tell why, but he smells strongly of roses. Stiles, like Derek, is pretty skilled at hiding his feelings but the moment he goes to lie down on the bed, he breaks. Derek doesn’t think he could stop crying, even if he wanted to, and even though he knows Stiles probably doesn’t want a client – because that’s what Derek is, a client – seeing him like this, he can’t help but lie down beside him and hold out his arms. Stiles shuffles towards him without even considering it, and Derek doesn’t  care he’s getting tears and snot all over his favourite Henley because the moment he brings a hand up and soothes it up and down Stiles’ back, Stiles melts into him. Utterly trusting. He says something about his mom. 

It’s the best and most painful feeling in the world and Derek is beyond grateful that Stiles isn’t a werewolf, can’t hear how hard his heart is beating or smell the jumble of emotions coursing through him. 

They lie like that for an hour, maybe, before Stiles starts to get restless. He tries apologising, offers Derek a session on the house, but Derek barely hears him, lost. Lost in a confusing bag of mixed emotions and instead of answering Stiles, says, “let’s order pizza”. 

The pizza comes within thirty minutes, and two hours later – half way through the third Harry Potter movie – Stiles leans in and kisses him. It lasts for twelve seconds – Derek doesn’t know why he counts – and when it’s over, Stiles pulls back, eyes wide, and yells something about Derek having the last slice of pizza, before running. Derek listens to him run all the way out of the apartment block and to his Jeep, lips tingling, heart sinking. 

They don’t see each other for four months. Stiles ignores all his phone calls and after a while, Derek gives up. He doesn’t stop day dreaming, though. He takes an almost masochistic pleasure in it – maybe it’s a form of self punishment, who knows. He doesn’t care if it doesn’t count as “growth”. He day dreams to the point that he isn’t sure if Stiles is a figment of his imagination when he shows up at his door soaking wet, like the ending of some cheesy romantic comedy. Derek would laugh at the bitter-sweetness of it; that is, until Stiles’ hands are on his face and he’s talking….and talking…..and talking. Talking about rules and professionalism and “never happened to me before”. He talks until Derek finds himself smiling. He talks until Derek finds his hands shaking, and finally, finally, until he can find it in him to put a finger to Stiles’ lips. 

“Shut up.”

Stiles does.

“If I asked you to kiss me again, would you want to?” 

Stiles swallows, takes a breath. “Depends, are you going to pay me for it?”

Derek raises an eyebrow for appearance sake, says, “only in more kisses”, and then blushes furiously because cheesy flirting is not a thing he does outside of his own head. Except, apparently now it is. And he plans to do much more of it, especially if it makes Stiles laugh like that again. Just….maybe not in public. God though, he loves hearing Stiles laugh. He wants to hear it all the time. Maybe he would risk the PDA. 

“Make a deal with me?” Stiles asks, closing the space between them, mapping out both of Derek’s eyebrows with a curious finger. He smiles, like he’s figured something out about him, just from that. “Buy me a milkshake every Saturday and let me hold your stupid hand during movies and you can have all the cuddling sessions you want for free.”

Derek pretends to consider this, takes Stiles’ free hand and playfully bites down. “Sounds like a good deal,” he whispers. 

Stiles grins. “Oh, I assure you, it is.”