this was written because my friend @k1ngdragon is very gay and he wouldn’t leave me alone and kept talking about the most domestic piece of shit ever
“Come back to bed, Stiles,” he hears from behind him, Derek’s voice still rough with sleep. It sounds tempting, way too tempting, but Stiles squares his shoulders and pulls on his pants.
“No,” he says, refusing to turn around. “We had plans Derek! Romantic camping plans! With campfires! And probably awkward sex in a tent!”
“We can do it later just- come back to bed.”
Stiles glances back for a second, just a second and shit. Derek’s lying on his back, the sunlight shining through the curtains making him look soft, looking up at Stiles through his eyelashes. Derek absently scratches a hand on his stomach, a thing he always does in the morning and Stiles can already feel himself giving in, because Derek looks so content and happy and he’s lying in bed, naked and Stiles loves him.
“Twenty-five,” Stiles says as he walks by the table where Derek is sitting and leans down to kiss him.
“Twenty-six,” Derek says leaning in one more time.
“You two are absolutely disgusting,” Isaac announces loudly. “And it’s only eight in the morning, how are you already almost to thirty?”
“They start ridiculously early,” Scott interjects. “Which I only know from living with them for two years. They have to get to a hundred before they’re satisfied. It’s actually disgusting.”
Stiles can’t help but laugh because Scott has been just as disgustingly romantic with Allison all these years, so he’s allowed to be disgusting with Derek. Which is exactly why he leans down again and kisses his boyfriend.
“Why a hundred?” Allison asks.
Derek shrugs. “I just never want to regret a day where I didn’t kiss him enough.”
Since I’m a horrid friend and didn’t have time to write @eeyore9990 a birthday fic, please accept this humble offering as a belated gift. 🙂
Smooth Like Your Face
Derek doesn’t even have to look up to know it’s Stiles who’s leaning against his counter, one hip pressed into the formica while he lifts one of the packages of chocolate-covered coffee beans, ostensibly to study it, but really just to focus his attention on something else while he announces, “Your hand looks heavy. You should let me hold it.”
“Venti iced caramel macchiato, quad,” he calls over his shoulder to Boyd, whose smirk he can practically feel. “That’ll be $7.31,” he tells Stiles blandly, finally looking up.
Stiles is pouting as he digs out his wallet. “I didn’t even order,” he complains, and Derek rolls his eyes long-sufferingly as he accepts the worn-out debit card.
“Stiles, you’ve been coming here five days a week for the last month. Your order never changes.”
Derek is not charmed by the face Stiles makes at him. Really. He isn’t.
“You never know, maybe today I felt like a mocha,” he retorts, continuing to sulk.
“If you ever feel like a mocha, I will give it to you for free,” Derek replies dryly.
Stiles breaks out in a dazzling grin. “I knew it! You’re totally into me.”
“Next, please!” he calls, scowling at Stiles until he holds his hands up in the classic “don’t shoot” pose, moving along to the end of the counter and accepting the plastic cup from Boyd.
“See you tomorrow, oh light of my life!” Stiles calls out, grinning as he waves backward over his shoulder, sauntering out the front door.
Derek likes to pretend he doesn’t watch his ass as he goes, but he totally does.
Derek Sourwolf Hale, 7:37 pm: Coming back to Beacon Hills. Coffee?
The text came in just as the oven timer went off, letting Stiles know his frozen pizza was done and ready to be eaten. He only got a quick glance at the lit up screen, before his eyes went wide, a nearly (very) happy sound rumbled in his throat, and he spun around to get the pizza out of the oven, burning himself just a little in the progress.
Worth it.
Stiles, 7:39 pm: Yes! When and where?
He waited all of one minute just staring at his phone, before he remembered his dinner and went to eat it, stopping only when his phone vibrated on the counter with another message.
Derek Sourwolf Hale, 7:41 pm: Saturday, 2 PM at The Brew?
Stiles, 7:41 pm: Perfect!!
He immediately put it in his calendar, his heart pounding and his cheeks hurting from the smiling.
Based on this prompt: Stiles puts bells on all the wolves and Derek still manages to not make a sound.
It all comes to a head when Erica decides to leap out at him from beside a vending machine and he flails so hard his fingers cramp on the tab of his newly purchased can of coke. He makes a leap of his own, backwards, and gets drenched in a fizzy spray as his head smacks against the vending machine’s glass and sends something clattering down inside. It’s his third Operation: Fragile Stiles mishap of the week and there are still six days to go.
He splutters as the sticky drizzle runs down his face, his anger initially dampened by the acknowledgement that at least it wasn’t aimed at his crotch this time, until he realises he shouldn’t have even reached the stage of making concessions in the first place.
Erica doesn’t seem to see the problem. She bends down to retrieve the Butterfinger that somersaulted over the coil inside the machine with help from the impact of his skull and throws him a victorious grin as she skips away.
He’s had it with this game he never agreed to play. He’s sick of being the only human who has to put up with this shit, the constant shaving of years from his life as he watches over his shoulder for the next wolfy surprise. Allison might know her way around a bow and arrow and Lydia might have her acid tongue for a deterrent, but Stiles has… weapons. He does.
It’s Isaac’s snigger and Jackson’s curling lip that do it.
So one day I was innocently scrolling through Tumblr when this gorgeous piece of amazing art popped up and I just couldn’t not write it because I love fanboy!Stiles!!!! So @benaya-trash and constilesations – who isn’t on Tumblr right now so I won’t tag her – this one’s for you ^^
Stiles has had his fair share of celebrity crushes. More
than his fair share maybe, considering his long-time obsession with Ryan
Gosling and Bonnie Wright – though he’s fairly certain the last one’s just
because she reminded him of Lydia.
So yeah, celebrity crushes; a totally awesome and valid
thing. None of them came even close to the ridiculously large crush he
has on Derek Hale.
Derek Hale is a six foot tall, gorgeous piece of baseball
player. And Stiles doesn’t even like baseball that much, but when Derek
Hale’s on the field, you can bet your ass Stiles is watching. There’s just
something about him that has Stiles mesmerized.
(Mostly his bright eyes, dark hair, perfect muscle
definition, obscene hands and ridiculously soft voice. So, basically
everything.)
my beautiful friend maria, @living-in-exile has been having kind of a rough time due to some meanies, so i put on my big girl pants and finally got on the b-day fic i promised to write her, like, fifty years ago. so happy belated birthday hon and remember you’re beautiful and i love you
“Are you
comfortable back there, son?” Sheriff Stilinski asks.
Derek
swallows compulsively and manages a shaky, “Yeah.”
Forget
killing him, his mother is going to make him watch the toddlers during every
full moon for the rest of his life.
Derek turns
his wrists to feel the give of the cuffs, wondering just in how much trouble he
would get if he broke them and jumped out the window.
Here’s the
thing: Derek Hale considers himself a good
kid, and he knows a handful of teachers, family members and older folks in
the Beacon Hills community that would agree that he is, in fact, a good kid.
He always
tries his best at school, has a decent GPA; always tries to make his mom proud
by never getting into trouble like his siblings are prone to; he always tries
to help everywhere he can, he’s lost count of how many yards he mowed for only
a piece of candy and a pat on the cheek, how many random kid’s shoelaces he
tied, how many people he helped cart groceries around, how many tiny animals he
rescued from trees.
All in all,
Derek Hale is a good kid.
Or he
thought he was until today.
Because
today Derek is riding in the back of the Sheriff’s cruiser with his wrists in
handcuffs.
The Sheriff’s
phone goes off.
“Excuse me,”
the Sheriff says, pulling the car to the side of the road and answering it. “Stiles
I’m at work, what do you-“ there’s a pause. “Yes, I know I’m late for- I’m just
taking a seventeen year old to the station, I’ll be home in a- what?”
The Sheriff
twists to look at Derek. “My son is asking if you’re cute.”
Derek can
feel his face flame up. “I’d like to think so, sir.”
The Sheriff
starts laughing. “He likes to think so, kid,” he says to the phone. “Wait- no,
Stiles, don’t-“ he pulls the phone
from his face and looks at it with a frown.
Derek
watches through the grid as the Sheriff throws his phone on the passenger seat.
“I
apologize in advance for my son,” the Sheriff says and oh no.
Oh, no.
“Stiles is
going to be there?”
“’fraid so.
Is that going to be a problem, son?”
“No,” Derek
chokes out. “No problem, sir.”
After all
why would there be a problem in Derek’s crush of two years seeing Derek get
brought into the station by his own father
for what is possibly the lamest reason ever? There’s no problem in that,
honestly.
Derek
thunks his head back against the seat and tries not to groan.
It’s bad
enough that Stiles doesn’t give him the time of day, it’s bad enough that
Stiles sneers at jocks and piles Derek along with them, always thinks Derek is
messing with him when he stutters his way through trying to ask Stiles out.
Derek
thunks his head back against the seat again for good measure, trying to figure
a way out of this mess, but before he can, the cruiser comes to a stop in front
of the station just as Derek sees the Jeep come down the street.
This is it.
This is how Derek Hale blows his chances to ever date Stiles.
The Sheriff
opens the back door and helps him get out, leading him into the station with a firm
hand wrapped around his arm.
“Look, kid,
you don’t have to be this nervous. It’s your first misdemeanor and you’re still
underage, you’re leaving with a slap on the wrist.”
“Right.”
Derek swallows as the Sheriff sits him down on a bench outside his office.
“Now we
just need to wait for your mom and you can-“
“Yo,
Daddy-o,” Stiles’ voice calls out and Derek winces, sliding down the bench and
trying to make himself as small as he can because maybe, just maybe Stiles won’t see him and this won’t be a- “Is
that Derek Hale?”
Well, fuck.
“You know
him?”
“Yeah, we
share some classes,” Stiles says casually, looking down at Derek with a smirk. “So
what is he in for? Joy riding in his sweet Camaro? Skinny dipping in the park’s
lake?”
Derek’s
eyebrows climb up his forehead and the Sheriff turns to him with a frown.
“I swear I
never did any of those, you can ask my mom, I’m always home on time!”
The Sheriff
turns his raised eyebrow to Stiles.
“He’s in
for trespassing. I found him in the Whittemore’s backyard.”
“Ohmygod,” Stiles breaths out, face
contorting in anger, “if you’re helping Jackson cheat on Lydia wi-“
“What?! No!” His voice goes
embarrassingly high pitched and he winces at himself.
Smooth
Derek, smooth.
“Then why
were you in the Whittemore’s backyard,” Stiles asks suspiciously, leaning
forward and Derek will not get a
boner, he will not, this is not sexy at all and it would be a really bad time for a boner.
“I’d like
to know that too, son,” the Sheriff says, staring him down.
“I-“ Derek
chokes, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Do I have to tell in front of him?” he
asks, jerking his head towards Stiles.
Stiles face
morphs into a smirk. “Is it embarrassing?”
The Sheriff
cuffs him upside the head and Stiles yelps.
“No, you
don’t, we can go into an inte-“
A meek meow
interrupts the Sheriff and Derek groans, hitting his head against the wall
behind him.
“Was that-“
Stiles starts looking around jerkily, trying to find the sound.
The kitten
meows sadly again before it starts wailing and both Stilinskis focus on the
general area of Derek’s chest.
“Son, are
you meowing?” the Sheriff asks, clearly trying not to laugh.
Derek
slides down the bench, which jolts the kitten in the inner pocket of his jacket
and the poor little thing meows loudly again.
“There was
a cat stuck on the tree,” he mutters, feeling the blush heat up his cheeks and
down his neck.
“Ohmygod,” Stiles coos and this is
horrible, this is the worst thing that ever happened to him and he once broke
his leg in three places falling down a tree.
“Let me get
this straight, you trespassed into the Whittemore’s backyard because there was
a kitten stuck on the tree.”
“Yes,”
Derek mumbles and wishes for a hole to climb into when the Sheriff starts chuckling.
“Can I?”
Stiles says, bouncing in place like a five year old and Derek is so gone on
this boy that he just nods his head and lets Stiles open up his jacket and
scoop up the kitten, holding it in his palms and cooing at it.
Derek looks
up at him and feels something warm and fuzzy unfurl in his chest.
“Oh Christ,”
the Sheriff says, making Derek jerk his gaze back to him and then blush
violently. “Come here, kid, let me take those cuffs off of you.”
Derek turns
and lets the Sheriff do it, rubbing his wrists a little, more for appearances
than anything.
“Where’s my
son?” his mother’s steely voice cuts through the station and Derek’s head
immediately snaps to her, watching his mom walk towards him like she’s on a
hell path.
Oh no.
“Derek,
baby, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,
mom,” he mutters, helpless to do anything but let her cradle his cheeks and turn
his face, looking for damage. “Mom, really I’m fine.”
The Sheriff
clears his throat. “Ms. Hale, there’s nothing to worry about. No charges are
being pressed and this isn’t going on his permanent record.”
His mother
glares the Sheriff down, every bit the alpha that she is. The Sheriff holds her
gaze steadily.
“I still
want to know why you felt the need to drag my son in here like a criminal,
Sheriff Stilinski.”
The Sheriff
nods once curtly, and steps back gesturing towards his office. “Why don’t we
continue this conversation inside?”
Talia holds
his gaze before she accepts the open invitation and enters the Sheriff’s
office.
Derek looks
after her, hoping she doesn’t go too hard on him.
“So,”
Stiles says, plopping down on the seat next to him. “Derek Hale, captain of the
basketball team and co-captain of the swim team, climbs trees to rescue tiny
kittens and is a helpless momma’s boy.” Stiles grins at him but there’s
something different from the other grins he’s given Derek so far. It’s softer,
a little more open.
Derek can’t
help but smile back.
“You’re
kinda cute, Hale.”
“You’re
really cute,” Derek blurts out and then winces.
Nice going,
Derek, smooth as hell.
Stiles smiles
at him, something that crinkles his eyes and feels real. “Yeah?” he breathes out.
“Yeah,”
Derek says.
«»
Derek is in
heaven, his soul has ascended and all he needed was Stiles Stilinski pressed up
against him just so and kissing him like it’s going out of style, mindful of
the kitten that fell back asleep in Derek’s pocket.
Someone
clears their throat loudly and Stiles flails so hard he almost falls out of
Derek’s lap and he would have if it weren’t for Derek’s hand on his back.
“Hi, Dad,”
Stiles squeaks out.
“Son,” the
Sheriff says slowly, “would you mind getting off of Derek.”
“Sure, Dad,”
Stiles says and gets up, coughing awkwardly.
Derek does
his best impersonation of a statue.
“And Derek.”
“Sir?”
“I expect
you for dinner on Friday.”
Derek
swallows. “Yes, sir.”
“And I
expect to see you at lunch on Sunday,
Stiles,” his mother says, and it’s Stiles’ turn to squeak out a yes. His mother smiles serenely. “Good.
Sheriff Stilinski, it was a pleasure to meet you, I have a feeling we’ll be
seeing a lot of each other in the future.”
«»
Derek keeps
both the kitten and Stiles, and gets laughed at by Laura for the rest of his
life, but it’s alright because he’s got Stiles and that’s enough to get him
through anything.
Here’s some #6 (“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”) for you sweeties! 😀
–
Stiles Stilinski, in short, is a complete and utter menace.
Derek had his doubts when Cora first suggested their family play host to one of the exchange students from Poland, but it wasn’t until the suggestion became his immediate reality that he really began to detest the entire program.
Sure, Stiles Stilinski cleans up after himself, is a perfect gentleman around the house, gets his work done, and has made friends insanely fast, but there’s one thing that he isn’t: Tolerable.
He’s cocky and sarcastic; quick witted in the way that he can tangle Derek up into a neat, flustered little bow with just a few choice quips. The worst part is that English isn’t even Stiles’ native language, and he still seems better at it than Derek.
Laura says that’s because Derek’s originally from Mars: “which would make your native language Martian, Der.”
Which brings Derek to his next problem with Stiles: he and Laura get along just swimmingly.
He’s almost positive Laura has let slip some insider information about how to get under his skin, because Stiles is always smirking at Derek like he knows something he doesn’t, or finding new ways to make him blush and then commenting about the pink tinge of his ears.
The fact that Stiles is incredibly attractive doesn’t really help keep Derek’s poor ears from blushing even redder when they end up at the center of the boys attention.
And it’s not like he’s mean or outwardly malicious, he just carries this air about him like nothing and no one can touch him, but everyone should desperately want to.
And Derek doesn’t, okay, he wants to make that point clear. Even if Cora teases him about too long and too intense stares when Stiles is across the room. It’s just because Derek is trying to figure him out. That’s it.
Stiles fumbles the keys in the lock on the door of his apartment. He had just a few drinks too many with coworkers and he’s to the point of inebriation that his feet catch on every little thing. So he stumbles his way into the apartment, still clear headed enough to lock the door behind him before he starts for the bedroom.
He should really grab a glass of water, a snack and some advil for the morning, future him would appreciate the gesture he knows. But he has a better plan for his current self, and that is getting to his bed within the next minute and a half.
So he strips as he walks down the hall, struggling to get his shirt off a little and he winds up walking into the doorway instead of through it with his shirt around his face. He sighs, stops walking and wrestles out of the stupid thing before he starts working on his pants. Stepping out of the slacks pooled around his ankles he walks towards the bed in his boxer briefs.
The giant bed, pushed up against the wall, that currently has a mostly naked Derek lying in it. Stiles giggles a little; he’s also in that drunk phase where everything makes him just, super happy. Derek stirs in the bed and Stiles flops down, his feet up by the pillows and his face next to Derek’s legs.
He shifts around until he’s using Derek’s thighs as a pillow. His butt makes a good pillow too but Stiles has other plans for that portion of his fiancé’s anatomy.
Stiles starts humming as he begins gently rubbing Derek’s bum.
“Stiles,” Derek grumbles, voice sleep rough. “What ‘re you doing?”
“Butt rub,” Stiles answers succinctly and Derek sighs.
“Why?”
“Because you had a bad day and I couldn’t come home and make it better because I had to go out for drinks with my dumb coworkers who wouldn’t let me leave and come home to my love and his cushy-tushy.”
Derek wiggles a little but Stiles has him relatively pinned in place on the bed.
“I still maintain this is one of the oddest displays of affection you’ve come up with, babe,” Derek says eventually but he’s more relaxed now than when Stiles came home so Stiles doesn’t really care about what he’s saying.
The first time Derek can remember taking note of Stiles’ gaze, they’re both sixteen and definitely not in the same social circles. If Derek was being more honest with himself, he would have said that he found Stiles attractive in a mildly annoying, irritating way at least.
But as it stood, he wasn’t ready to admit anything to himself. Not in the wake of his break-up with Paige even though they were still friends. Not when he had a shot with Kate who was an entire year older and easily one of the hottest girls in school.
So instead of being an attractive irritant, Stiles was just irritating. And staring at Derek. Who really needed to finish his homework if he was going to be able to go out with Kate during the weekend.
Despite being sixteen, his mom still insisted on making sure they all had the right priorities. He couldn’t wait for the day when he could be on his own. Parents were such a drag.
So here Derek was trying to study, but Stiles wouldn’t stop staring at him. Derek’s pretty sure he hasn’t blinked in the past twenty minutes.
He can’t ignore it. It’s too weird.
Before Derek even knows what he’s doing, he’s in front of Stiles, slamming his hands down on the book Stiles hasn’t looked at in the past half hour.
“What is your problem?” Derek hisses.
Stiles jerks back and glances at Derek like he’s seeing him for the first time.
“Huh?”
“You’ve been staring at me for the past half hour. What is your problem?” Derek repeats angrily.
He can feel his eyebrows doing that thing that Laura always mocks him for.
Derek only feels a little bad about it when Stiles starts to look genuinely freaked out.
“I’m sorry, man. I guess I just got comfy eyes going on,” Stiles says with a shrug.
“What the fuck are comfy eyes?”
Now Stiles is staring at him like he’s the freak which is just totally not real.
“You know, when you zone out and are looking at something or someone,” Stiles gestures toward Derek, “without actually seeing them.”
Derek doesn’t have a good answer for that. Usually when he’s not actively looking at someone, he’s looking down or focused on something else.
“Whatever. Just don’t let it happen again,” Derek mutters as he heads back to his table.
The next time he looks up, Stiles is gone and Derek thinks that’s the end of that. He’s got better things to worry about.
shealwaysreads 