Derek totally didn’t name them, but, “I think Patrice has abandonment issues.”
“Abandonment issues?” Deaton asked, blinking, and then “Patrice?”
Derek just glared, averting his gaze. Alright, so he had named him. But only because it made them easier to tell apart. “Yes,” he gritted through his teeth, holding out the baby ducks for Deaton to take. “I can’t look after them. So here, you have to take them.”
Deaton shook his head. “I think you’re doing just fine, Derek,” he said in a way that could either mean ‘fuck off’ or ‘these ducklings are part of some bigger plan that I’m not going to tell you about’ and then walked away. Just like that.
The bastard.
~
Later that evening, Stiles came home to find Derek….and several ducklings on his bed.
“Please tell me that’s not the pack,” was the first thing he said, panicked that he wasn’t feeling just as panicked about that scenario as he should be. He wasn’t going to lie and say the thought of Jackson being turned into a baby duck didn’t amuse him.
Greatly.
“No, it’s not the pack,” Derek answered, rolling his eyes, letting one crawl into his hands. “I think….” he frowned. “I don’t think they have…parents.”
“Yeah, “ Derek nodded, all serious and utterly adorable. “And….I don’t know what to do.”
It was hard to read Derek most of the time, but Stiles thought he was getting better at it and this was definitely Derek speak for: ‘I found these baby animals and now I am scared I’m going to hurt them because I don’t have the best track record. SOS, send help, I am a tragic, brooding, beautiful mess’.
Okay, so maybe not the last part. But Stiles was definitely on to Derek.
Derek looked up at Stiles then, as if reading his thoughts, like Stiles had all the answers to the universe. Usually, Stiles was flattered when Derek came to him for help. Well, not flattered, per se. Smug. Smug was the word he’d use. He liked being smug around Derek, his own personal fucked up foreplay. But right now, something different was tingling in the pit of his stomach. He felt warm, and maybe just a little bit helpless. He wasn’t sure if it was a feeling he necessarily liked.
“Well, how about we start with a pond?” he suggested, leaning back against his bedroom door, resisting the urge to grab his phone and snap a picture.
“A pond?” Derek’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean, like, build a pond?” He started shaking his head, like the thought terrified him.
Silly, beautiful wolf.
Stiles shrugged. “Why not? You have the money, don’t you? Plus, I think they like you.” He winked and Derek flushed, right to the tips of his ears. Stiles laughed.
“Come on, sourwolf,” he grinned, shaking his head, picking up his backpack from where he had dumped it on the floor. “Let’s go make us a home.”
~
“It’s your turn to feed them,” Stiles groaned, turning in Derek’s arms.
He swore he could hear the ducks already quacking impatiently. “Please, babe,I’ll do anything if I don’t have to get up right now. I’ll even blow you. Twice. It’s so waaaaaarm.” He stretched, like the lazy cat he was, and smiled all the way down to his toes.
“Don’t call me ‘babe’,” was the only reply he received.
Stiles groaned again. “Sweetheart?” he tried, instead. “Honey? Chicken pot pie of my life?”
For that, his Derek Hale shaped cover was snatched away from him.
“What’s wrong with chicken pot pie???” he yelled, heart broken. Utterly, utterly heart broken. No, betrayed. Derek was mean.
“Nothing, if you want to stay married to me, noodle.”
Stiles grimaced. Okay, they’d work on their pet names for each other outside of sex later. They couldn’t just stick with ‘asshole’ – it was starting to lose its meaning when they fought.
Shoving a pillow in Derek’s face, because when was that ever not satisfying, Stiles crawled to the side of the bed – and because he had no dignity – rolled out of it. “See if you get any sex when I get back,” he called over his shoulder, grabbing Derek’s boxers on the way out of the door.
Derek only grinned when Stiles looked back, already falling back to sleep.
Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Rating: G, Word Count: 249 Fluff, Established Relationship, Future Fic, POV Stiles ♥ Read on AO3
‘What are you doing?’ Derek asks.
‘Watching the snow,’ Stiles says.
‘I can see that. Why?’
‘Because it’s snowing.’
Derek huffs. There’s a bit of scuffle behind Stiles as
Derek steps outside while trying to keep Lykos inside. He fails, and their
black Lab races into their front yard, biting at the snowflakes.
‘Are you ever surprised that we got here?’ Stiles muses.
‘Me finding you on our porch freezing your ass off? No.’
Stiles chuckles. He is pretty cold, no wonder considering
he’s wearing only his pyjamas and a pair of socks.
‘But it’s our
porch. You and me. Together. We have
a normal life now.’
‘I wouldn’t call our life normal.’
‘Dude, we have a date night. A date night. I don’t think it can get more normal than that.’
Derek hums and sits down next to him. He’s a little more
sensibly dressed in sweatpants, a sweater, and boots. Stiles grabs Derek’s arm
to throw it over his shoulder, and cuddles into his partner’s side.
‘Do you have any regrets?’
‘There are some things I’d like to have done
differently,’ Derek admits.
‘Even if it would’ve meant us not ending up here?’ Stiles
looks up at him, his chest warming at the soft smile on Derek’s face. Or maybe
that’s the hypothermia setting in.
‘I’m pretty confident we would’ve ended up here anyway.’
‘With you finding me on our porch freezing my ass off?’
Stiles grins.
Derek laughs and presses his face in Stiles’ hair.
Derek didn’t realize just how little Stiles thinks of himself. I imagine Derek takes his time showing Stiles just how much he loves everything about him. And Stiles won’t be outdone, so he does the same in return. Ends up a lovely win/win situation for them both. Pt2
Yes, anon, because this makes perfect sense.
Because Derek Hale, right. When Derek goddamn Hale asks you on a date, you go all out to look your freaking best, okay. Or at least Stiles does. He buys actual nice button-ups and t-shirts that fit. He gets a haircut and actually makes an effort. On a daily basis too, but definitely giving it his all on date night.
And he looks stunning. That first time they meet up at the movies, Derek misses half the goddamn feature, because he can’t stop staring at Stiles. Derek already knew Stiles was gorgeous, but, god, when he really makes an effort? He looks unreal. Photoshopped. Ethereal. Derek is like a hair away from composing fucking sonnets, here.
Even Lydia has to stop and question her past decisions that one time Stiles shows up to a pack meeting ready for a date after. Derek snarls at her, he can’t fucking help himself. Stiles doesn’t even notice, too busy making sure his hair is still okay after the car ride.
And it just becomes a thing. Every goddamn time they go out, people stare and drool and yes, sure, Derek gets a few looks, but his crabby demeanor usually makes people back off. But Stiles… Stiles is a beaming ray of sunshine, leaking happiness everywhere, because he’s out with Derek Hale and life is finally going his way. And that joy is probably the sexiest thing about him.
And he has no idea.
As a result Derek gets increasingly cranky during dates, glaring left and right at all the people who can’t seem to keep their damn eyeballs to themselves, and Stiles… well, Stiles only has eyes for Derek, so he only sees Derek’s worsening mood, and of course assumes it’s because he doesn’t measure up.
Because of course that’s what he thinks.
-takes a break to sob over these damaged boys-
Okay, I’m back.
And because I’m so disgustingly thirsty for drama, it comes close, so horrifyingly close to them breaking up, before Stiles gets it into his thick skull that Derek’s mood is like 90% caused by having to force down the shift every five minutes for the duration of all the dates they spend in public.
Hell, Stiles is convinced Derek is lying somehow, until he’s early one date night, and has to spend the weirdest fifteen minutes of his life fending off three different people arguing over who gets to chat him up.
It’s pretty hot when Derek glares them all down in a second and a half, Stiles isn’t even gonna front, but he’s literally too shaken up to even make a move on Derek’s hot everything. Which is saying something about his state of mind.
What follows is a weird tension where Stiles is re-evaluating everything he thought he knew about himself, and Derek braces himself for when Stiles inevitably breaks up with him, now that Stiles knows he can go out and find plenty of people who are nicer and kinder and far less damaged than Derek.
Which is ridiculous, of course.
What happens instead is Stiles dragging him off to various clubs and bars for the single purpose of grinding on him on every dance floor in town, and driving tons of people crazy with frustration that they’re both firmly taken.
And that just makes Derek’s wolf side wag its goddamn metaphorical tail from the petty joy of showing every single thirsty person out there that Stiles is taken, thank you very much.
As it turns out, the fact that Stiles evidently has some kind of fetish for waving himself under people’s noses with no intention of putting out is something Derek can live with. He actually even enjoys it.
But yes, before they get to that point, there’s quite a lot of mutual appreciation and worship and doubt and love and cherishing, okay. LOTS. And the one time Derek voices his thought that maybe Stiles could find someone nicer, Stiles actually breaks down laughing, tears gushing from his eyes, because the mere idea of trading up from Derek Hale is a joke of astronimical proportions to Stiles.
And it’s also ridiculous, because Derek IS nice. Just not very personable and wary of strangers, and considering what they’ve all been through, Stiles doesn’t think he could even handle being with someone who takes stuff at face value. And Derek is also just the best person Stiles knows, so, what even…
So yeah, they make it, and they drive lots of people up the wall with how much they’re never gonna be available.
And maybe a decade or so later, Derek agrees to model for a spread in Modern Pack Monthly, he and Stiles doing a veeeery faintly risque shoot together, and promptly makes the entire supernatural community lose its collective shit. They get fan mail.
Stiles aggressively refutes the idea of a supreme soulmate. There’s no possible way that there’s only one person destined to be your partner in life, to fill in the gaps completely.
He toys with the idea that there may be multiple people of varying aptitudes that sew up bits and pieces of you, but to believe there’s “THE ONE” out there to make your soul tap dance to the song of your heart and make you feel like the world is finally conquerable? Nope.
Then he meets Derek Hale. Gruff, scruff, and a whole lot of huff and puff.
It just solidifies Stiles’ thoughts against it because there’s no way that man, beautiful, insufferable asshole that he is, is alone because he is just so broken. If there’s anyone in need of soulmate superglue in any form, it’s him.
He mentally battles the universe, existential crises sneak up on him on idle days, sleepless nights fly by as he struggles with his thoughts.
Stiles finds himself challenging Derek every step of the way, be it battle plans or what to watch on pack movie nights; Stiles is the push to Derek’s pull.
Stiles is observant, but dense in the same breath; he notes the patterns of their tentative friendship, but chalks it up to friendly bantering and a release of pent up tension from those who trespass through Beacon Hills. They’re masters of button pushing by now.
He could say with confidence that Derek might be a transient soulmate, at best, though his nights are now filled with the ‘what ifs’ of permanence, which are sidelined as quick as they come.
****
Six years down the line, Stiles reflects upon his experiences: loves attained and lost, friends come and gone; Derek the only constant.
Lounging on the couch, feet propped up on Derek’s lap as he finishes typing up police reports he took home.
“Do you believe in soulmates?”
Derek places his bookmark, lays it on the coffee table, mindlessly rubbing circles on Stiles’ ankles as he mulls the thought over.
“No,” he firmly states as he turns his gaze to Stiles.
“But I believe in a soulmate,” He smirks as he leans over and softly kisses Stiles’ forehead, cheekbones, nose and finally sealing the affirmation on his lips.
Stiles chuckles, feet kicking Derek’s thigh, “You’re such a sap.”
“Mmm,” Derek murmurs, “You wouldn’t have me any other way.”
“Lies. I’d have you in every way.”
Stiles waggles his eyebrows, smirking as he grabs the back of Derek’s neck and pulls him in for a fevered kiss. Saying all he can’t say, could never put into thoughts or words, with the press of their lips. A kiss that says, ‘You are my one and only.’
Seeing Hoechlin with his salt and pepper beard got me thinking about Derek Hale with beard mascara (That’s a thing, look it up) and then…
Like, Derek turns 30 and the pack is off doing god knows what at college, when one day he finds a grey hair in his beard and he gets so fucking insecure so he buys the beard mascara and he covers it all up.
Then one day, suddenly, Stiles is in his loft after he’s taken a shower and he walks out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and Stiles says, “Are those grey hairs?”
And Derek’s heart starts pounding because it’s Stiles and he didn’t want Stiles to see that, not just because Stiles likes to make jokes and poke fun at him but also because Derek might like Stiles a little. Or a lot.
And he says, “Let it go, Stiles.”
But Stiles, being Stiles, doesn’t listen and gets all up in his space and cups Derek’s face and tilts it and Derek knows what he’s seeing, grey hairs glinting in the light. He has to concentrate to hold his claws back and he’s so ready for Stiles to make a joke about becoming an old man, fucking tensed for it when Stiles says, “Oh my god, that is both hot and adorable.”
Which, what. What. That hadn’t been at all what Derek had been expecting, but now Stiles is staring at him, mouth open and pupils blown and Derek wants to kiss him so bad. So he does, and again, and again, and he laughs when Stiles runs his fingers through his beard, trying to find the grey hairs by touch, and Stiles laughs with him.
“This Jeep is a death trap,” Derek growls from the passenger seat.
“This Jeep is a gift from the gods, you ingrate,” Stiles snaps as he pulls to the side of the road (yet again, Derek would like to add) because something under the hood is smoking and Derek keeps telling Stiles about a noise that spells disaster if they keep going.
Hopping out of the Jeep, they both come around and lift the hood. Stiles stumbles backwards when a billow of steam comes out and has only Derek to thank for keeping him on his feet. He pulls Stiles back up with a roll of his eyes.
“Your radiator is about ready to blow and this fan belt is going to snap if we don’t replace it soon.”
“Guess I know where my next pay check is going,” Stiles mutters bitterly, head resting against the hood in defeat.
“Come on, let’s take it slow for the next few miles. There’s a town about that far from here. We’ll get parts and get it over with.”
“Dude, I don’t get paid until next Friday -”
“Stiles, just. Get in.”
After a painfully slow ten miles to the next city, they park at a gas station and walk to a auto parts store that is conveniently across the street. Derek doesn’t say anything as he marches in and darts around the store, grabbing various things off the shelves and then quickly heading to the register.
“Dude, what are you -”
“Your total is $512.54, credit or debit.”
“Credit.”
“Derek -”
“Would you like a bag?”
“No need.”
“Derek!”
“Would you like your receipt printed or emailed?”
“Email. Stiles, breath. You’re face is getting all blotchy.” Stiles’ jaw practically hits the ground and Derek has the audacity to smirk.
“Have a nice day.”
“You, too. Come on, idiot. We only have so much daylight to try to fix your rolling junk yard.” They make their way out and over the street and back to the Jeep by the time Stiles actually manages to find words.
“What are you doing! Why did you- I said- And you just-!”
“You’re usually more eloquent than this.” Derek mocks, setting the various parts and kits he bought at the store.
“Woah, no, you aren’t -” But Stiles’ brain sort of disconnects as Derek pulls his t-shirt up and over his head revealing abs sculpted by the gods. Stiles’ gaze snaps up and to the road in front of them when he hears the squeal of tires and sees a mom van hit its brakes while swerving a bit out of it’s lane. I relate on a spiritual levels, Soccer Mom.
“Does this make you my sugar daddy?” He gets a t-shirt to the face for his efforts at comedy. Jokes on Derek, Stiles like the smell of Derek’s body wash.
Stiles rolled over, entirely too smug for his own good. The bastard. “You owe me, like, five pizzas, dude. I’m wiped.”
Derek tried to glare in his boyfriend’s general direction but he could barely lift his head. Fuck. “Pizzas were never part of this challenge,” he managed instead, groaning when he shifted onto his side. He was sore everywhere, and it wasn’t even morning yet.
Stiles just smirked. “I just gave you four orgasms in three hours. I’m awesome. I deserve pizza. I deserve curly fries and pizza.” Reaching out, he ran his fingers through Derek’s sweat soaked hair, his eyes lighting up with something Derek was still scared of knowing.
That Stiles loved him.
Moving closer again – a huge feat, Derek was the one that deserved a reward, here- he rested his head on Stiles’ chest, breathing in his scent. Their scents. It was something he was still getting used to. “This first,” he whispered, “pizza later.”
Stiles laughed, as if Derek had said something particularly funny, before bringing his arms down to hold him to him. “Man, I must have fucked you good. I’m going to buy myself a card. Possibly a t shirt.” He laughed again and high fived himself.
Derek rolled his eyes. “I’ll buy you a shut up, if you continue to ruin my afterglow.” The words made no sense, but as usual, Stiles got it. He always got it. He got it even when the only thing Derek managed to say was nothing at all.
what if instead of Kate coming back, there were two Dereks
I love this, though. Like, I automatically headcanon that young!Derek isn’t really out yet, is fairly certain he likes boys too(more than fairly certain, but not quite ready to admit it), but he’s playing it close to the chest, still. He likes/liked Paige, and other folks too, so maybe it doesn’t have to be a big deal? He doesn’t really have anyone to talk to, hasn’t really sought out anyone to talk to, about how sometimes he wants to, I don’t know, wear someone /else’s/ letterman jacket. He imagines somebody on his level, regardless of gender, just as nerdy, just as active. He imagines someone who could make him laugh, all the time, who’d think his cocky attitude was adorable, not mean, but could see through it anyway.
Someone he could tell about the werewolf stuff and they’d think it was AWESOME.
Somebody who was basically a natural werewolf, tenacious, quick, loyal. Someone who could not only handle his family, but would love them (but not as much as they loved him). And if that person happened to have brown eyes and cute moles and a talent for getting under his skin… Well, he’s not /saying/ he has a type, but, uh yeah.
And then here comes Older Derek, who takes one look and remembers /exactly/ what it was like at that age. And Derek is an asshole, and can’t help but deliver that line, just to watch the younger version of himself stutter and back pedal and check over his shoulder.
He thinks stiles will love this, when he hears about it.
But then, because he’s not /just/ and asshole, he takes young!Derek under his wing, let’s him TALK to someone. Is his sounding board. Asks questions and offers answers, confirms it isn’t some kind of phase, and that liking other genders doesn’t mean he can’t still like girls, that there is no “gay enough”, and that, although there is a long, hard road ahead, one day, he’s going to be unbelievably happy, that they will have the best mate, that he is everything young!Derek dreamed of, but even more. And that they are never more their best self than when they are with him. And that, of all the mistakes he’s going to make, this one thing is going to come out So Right.
And maybe young!Derek will think it’s a dream, later. And maybe he will laugh at himself, meanly, for fantasizing that it would all be okay, later, when it all goes to hell and he’s so broken and lost.
And then one day, he’ll meet this kid in the woods, and he’ll hear his own words drifting back to him on the breeze.
And he’ll fight it, of course he will.
But in the end, why bother arguing with yourself?
It’s a great wedding, and an even better honeymoon. 😉
today at the bus station I saw two boys talking, one of them going on and on about school and the things he’s learning and the other leaning towards him and flirting and playing with his neck while the other just went on completely oblivious and it was just so damn cute
GIVE US SOME FLUFF PLEASE, YOUNG DEREK BEING SHY AND OBVLIOUS AND STILES USING HIS DORK STILINSKI CHARM TO WOO HIM
(i was tagged in this thing TWICE one by @adrihenriquez12 and one by my most lovely @hoechlinslapsdylansbutt and bells with the little request above so i’m pretty sure i have to do it now
*shakes fist* curse your inevitable use of my one true weakness, bby!derek hale being a sweet cutie pie)
Technically, Stiles doesn’t need to ride the bus.
Technically, he has a car and a license and enough allowance money to fill the tank, so Stiles has no need whatsoever to ride the bus to and from school every single day.
Logically, he shouldn’t even want to. It’s loud (which Stiles doesn’t really have a problem with), the driver is permanently stoned and infringes a traffic law at least thrice a day, the seats are uncomfortable and there’s always that one asshole who likes to tease Stiles (which Stiles does have a problem with).
His baby blue Jeep is infinitely better than the bus. There’s just one little thing that Stiles’ Jeep doesn’t have.
“-it’s not as if pre-history isn’t fun, but it’s just not as cool as actual history. There’s barely any records at all of anything, there’s a truly uncomfortable amount of speculation and I just don’t think-” Derek continues ranting, looking over at Stiles for support and Stiles dutifully nods because what else can he do?
Ladies, gents and everyone else in-between and beyond, meet Derek Hale, known history nerd, co-captain of the basketball team, honorary boy scout and Stiles’ crush since forever.
So here he is. Riding the stinky, uncomfortable bus because Derek is in it and honestly these few minutes Stiles gets with Derek, without Derek’s small hoarde of adoring fans and scary friends are precious to him.
Stiles, suited in SWAT gear, kicks down a door, moving meticulously into the room on high alert.
“What the fuck is going on?!” Derek growls, dropping the spatula and flicking off the stove as his claws sprout and fangs descend; eyes wildly searching for the potential threat.
Stiles trains his sights about the room as he moves, “Saving you.”
“From what?!” Derek spits out, full beta shift and ready to pounce.
“Loneliness,” Stiles smirks, holstering his weapon before locking it in the safe and tossing his bullet-proof vest on the coat hook by the door. Derek stares incredulously at him, fangs & claws retreating while his eyebrows slowly start to reappear as his heart rate returns to normal.
“Thought it’d be better than, ‘Honey, I’m home’,” Stiles shrugs.
“I married a moron.” Derek grunts as he backs his husband against the wall. He noses up his neck, inhaling his saccharine scent and exhales blissfully. Thoughts of ,‘He’s alive, he’s safe, he’s home,’ flood his heart and soul.
“But you’re paying for that door,” Derek rumbles as he nips roughly behind Stiles’ ear. “Again,” he continues to bite down his neck.
“We’re VIP at Home Depot by now. Always worth it,” Stiles moans as he wraps his arms and legs securely around Derek, basking in his strength and love.
shealwaysreads 