“Don’t you think it’s a little weird,” Derek asks, as the hammock they’re laying in together sways gently. “That we don’t know where each other are from when we’re not on vacation?”
Stiles considers it for a moment before he brings Derek’s hand that’s wrapped around his shoulders to his lips and presses a kiss there.
“No, not really. What if we’re from opposite sides of the country? It would have ruined any hope of a future for us.”
“Do you want there to be a future for us?” Derek asks quietly.
Stiles thinks about the last week he’s had in Hawaii. Thinks about meeting Derek in the hotel bar after his meetings were done for the day. Thinks about the afternoons and evenings they have spent together since then, getting closer and sharing so much about themselves.
Everything, it seems, but where they’re from.
Derek is in Hawaii for an retreat with his accounting firm. He’s the middle child in a big family who gets teased for his quiet job and quiet life. His hobbies include yoga, eating healthy, reading and rescuing dogs.
Stiles is in Hawaii for a bakery owners conference. He’s an only child who watches out for his dad and gets teased by his best friend for his tendency to stay in and play video games instead of trying to meet people. His hobbies include running his bakery, watching Netflix, cheering for the Mets and visiting his best friend at work.
“I’d like that very much,” Stiles admits, suddenly unwilling to imagine his life without the beautiful man laying with him that approached him in a bar less than a week ago.
“Tomorrow then,” Derek says decisively, “at the airport, we tell each other where we’re going home to and then we’ll take it from there.”
Stiles crawls into the hammock, careful not to spill the beers in his hand as he settles against Derek’s chest.
“You know, I really like this thing,” he admits, “even if it’s not in Hawaii.”
Derek laughs and it vibrates through Stiles where they’re pressed up against each other.
“Gotta admit, it’s still pretty great in Beacon Hills, California,” Derek offers.
“Eh, I don’t think it would half as great if you weren’t here with me,“Stiles counters, snuggling closer into his boyfriend’s side.
“I promised that day in the airport we’d make it work, it just made it all the better that we were from the same town.”
Tag: fluff
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
fic based off this post
His mom is
going to kill him.“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.
#look at that grin #he knew #he knew it all the time (via littlecofiegirl)
—Compared with the other hurts he’s gotten, it’s a tiny little scratch. A minor accident involving his foot getting snagged in a chair and down he went, palm scratching against the floor and voila, sluggishly bleeding wound. But Derek’s treating it like it’s open heart surgery or something.
The werewolf is holding his hand, palm up, so gently that Stiles can barely feel Derek’s fingers wrapped around his wrist. The cotton ball dipped in antiseptic liquid is being dabbed so delicately against his palm that it only tingles, doesn’t hurt. And the attention. Oh the attention with which Derek is cleaning and dressing the wound up has Stiles smiling and holding his breath.
No wait, that’s a lie. He’s not breathless. He’s the opposite of breathless, whatever the word for that is. Every breath feels like a revelation, his heart expanding, growing, thump-a-thumping it’s way to a larger size the long Derek takes care of him so tenderly.
Stiles imagines his heart inside his chest has actually grown so big it’s taken up most of his chest, causing the strange heavy pressure against his ribs. He contemplates this feeling as he twirls the pen around in his unhurt hand, glancing up from his palm and right at Derek’s handsome face.
And a thought which has been rolling around in his head for a while, comes back to knock on his door. It’s a gentle rapping, not hesitant and entirely sure. He’s known this for a while and has been waiting for just as long to share this thought with Derek and now, right now, it feels like it’s time.
“Derek?” Stiles asks quietly.
“Yep?” The werewolf looks up from where he’s half way through applying a bit of dressing to the wound.
Shyness steals over him at the open look Derek gives him. And a bit of pride because it’s Derek looking at him with all his walls down and that. Oh God, Stiles still doesn’t know how to process it.
He wishes he could say his next words with a smile but he’s so overwhelmed by the simple emotion stealing over him it’s a wonder he gets the words out. “I… I love you.”
Stiles waits a beat, feels his heart skip a beat when Derek ducks his head and smiles. A quick upturn of the lisp which signals the older man’s amusement. But it’s not mocking! Not at all. It’s knowing. It’s happy like ‘oh it took you that long to figure that out?’. It’s the awareness that Derek knew before he got the words out.
Stiles feels embarrassed and shy all over again, in a whole new way. So Derek knew and has known for a while. How’s that for a surprise. He hides his own smile behind the pen and his fingers, soft eyes intently watching Derek press tape across the bandage.
A couple of strips later, Derek inspects the wound one last time before raising Stiles’ hand up to his mouth and brushing a lingering but gentle kiss on top of the bandage. “I know.” Derek finally says in return, thumb rubbing Stiles’ bony write.
For the dialogue prompt: 12
12. “Stay the night. Please.”
Derek really hated pixies.
Nevermind the fact that they were pesky little assholes with wings that were prone to wreaking havoc on electrical systems for shits and giggles.
Nevermind the fact that they were notorious for interfering with werewolf rituals and traditions and hexing werewolf territories.
Never mind the fact that when he was four years old one had bitten off the tip of his ear while he’d been practicing his shift.
All that could be forgotten, could be overlooked. But why he really hated pixies was because they’d hurt Stiles.
The pack had been wandering through the preserve in search of the pixies’ grove, bearing gifts of ribbons in an array of colors to bribe them into leaving. Their affinity for ribbons was a helpful tidbit of information Stiles had found during one of his late night Wikipedia binges.
And while the pixies had fawned over the bright swaths of silk ribbon the pack had brought, they had still swarmed around Stiles like a school of bloodthirsty piranhas, viciously nipping and clawing at him because if there was one thing that pixies hated more than werewolves it was humans: a fact Derek had unfortunately forgotten and one that Peter had deemed unnecessary to mention.
Derek really hated Peter too.
Fortunately, he’d managed to scare the frenzied little shark-mouthed bastards away with a loud, furious snarl, chucking a pool of ribbon as far as he could in order to distract them for a bit.
Stiles had assured him that he was fine, insisting on staying to finish negotiations with the pixies, despite the fact that all his clothes were shredded and he was covered in various bites and scratches, the sharp coppery scent of his blood filling the air.
After giving the pixies the rest of the ribbons once they’d agreed to leave Hale territory and never return, Derek had quickly led Stiles to the Camaro, barely resisting the urge to carry him, leaving the betas to walk home through the woods.
He was sure he’d get an earful from Erica later but he had more important things to worry about, namely getting Stiles patched up.
Stiles huffed and rolled his eyes as Derek shuffled him into the Camaro and fussed over mopping up the blood on his cheek with some napkins from the glove box, bandaging as much as he could with the first aid kit he kept tucked under the passenger seat.
Stiles finally smacked his hands away and emphatically pointed at the steering wheel, fed up with Derek’s coddling. Derek relented and complied, turning the key in the ignition and driving out of the preserve towards town.
Stiles found himself growing extremely tired on the drive home, the smooth rumble of the engine and the soft leather of the passenger seat lulling him to sleep. He woke up in Derek’s arms as he was lifted from the passenger seat and carried to the front door, smiling softly up at Derek as he laid his head on his shoulder.
“Hey,” he mumbled, lifting a hand to run through Derek’s soft hair. Derek looked down at him, returning the soft smile with a bright grin as he unlocked the front door.
“Hey,” Derek echoed, carrying him inside and kicking the door shut behind him. He climbed the stairs to Stiles’ room, setting him down on the edge of his bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” Stiles answered, stifling a yawn. He looked down at his shirt, finding it and his flannel completely unsalvageable, full of ragged holes and smudges of blood. He pouted and grumbled, “I really liked this shirt.”
Derek breathed a laugh and combed a hand through his hair. Stiles sent him a halfhearted glare and shrugged out of his ruined flannel, tossing it in the general direction of his trash can.
Derek kneeled down to help Stiles out of his torn t-shirt, pressing kisses over the bite marks on his chest and abdomen as he tugged it off his arms, rising to catch Stiles’ lips in chaste kiss once he was rid of the shirt. Stiles smiled into the kiss, looping his arms around Derek’s neck to tug him closer.
“You wanna take a shower?” Derek wondered aloud, pulling out of the kiss, running his thumb over a patch of dried blood on Stiles’ belly.
“Nah,” Stiles declined, wrinkling his nose and shaking his head. “I just wanna go to bed. Could you grab me a shirt?”
Derek slipped away from Stiles’ arms and went to the dresser, pulling a baggy white t-shirt out of one of the drawers, handing it to Stiles who quickly slipped it on as he kicked his sneakers off.
“Aww, man. Those little bastards ruined my jeans too,” Stiles whined, noticing the large rips in the denim as he stood to shimmy out of his pants. Derek handed him a pair of pajama pants and took the jeans from Stiles’ hand, examining them to see the extent of the damage. They were unsalvageable too.
“I’ll buy you a new pair,” he offered as he dropped them into the trash can.
“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Stiles dismissed as he crawled across his bed to climb under the covers. “They were an old pair anyway.”
“Okay. Uh, I guess I’ll see you later,” Derek said awkwardly, starting for the door. “Goodnight.”
“Derek, wait,” Stiles blurted. Derek turned, eyebrows raised in silent question, his hand resting on the doorknob. Stiles very quietly whispered, “Stay the night. Please.”
“Are you sure?” Derek inquired, eyebrows furrowing even as he dropped his hand to his side. Stiles simply nodded, looking at Derek almost pleadingly.
Derek toed off his boots and shucked his leather jacket, laying it over the back of Stiles’ desk chair. He hurriedly undid his belt and dropped his hands before slipping into bed besides Stiles, immediately wrapping an arm around his waist.
Stiles shuffled closer to rest his cheek on Derek’s shoulder, sighing contentedly as he threw his arm around Derek’s chest, absently tracing his thumb over his bicep. “Mmm… That’s better.”
“Are you sure this is a good idea? What if your dad sees me in bed with you?” Derek asked, well aware of the Sheriff’s habit of checking Stiles’ room when he got off work, making sure his son was safe and asleep. Derek couldn’t imagine him being too pleased to find his son’s boyfriend in bed with him.
“My dad knows we’re dating, babe,” Stiles murmured as though that solved everything. After a moment he continued, “Besides, he likes you. He won’t shoot you or anything. I don’t think.”
Derek swallowed heavily. He lightly pinched Stiles’ side in reprimand.
“Hey!” Stiles yelped, jumping. He rubbed at his side with another pout. “Geez, dude, I was just kidding. My dad won’t care, I promise. He knows we’ve slept together before.”
“Oh god, he really is gonna shoot me,” Derek groaned.
“Not like that!” Stiles hastily amended. “I just mean he knows we’ve slept in the same bed together! He’s not gonna shoot you, Derek.”
“Alright, I’ll take your word for it,” Derek conceded, rubbing the spot he’d pinched in apology. “Now get some sleep, okay?”
“Mmm. Wanna cuddle some more, first,” Stiles protested, tightening his grip on his boyfriend. “Love you, Der.”
Derek smiled and laid a kiss on the top of Stiles’ head, holding him tighter.
Yeah, he really hated pixies. But he really loved Stiles too.
Dialogue Prompts
If you’re accepting prompts, could you please please do this one “You found me crying on the kitchen floor in the middle of the night surrounded by a shattered jelly jar.” with stoyd and with stiles pregnant because I feel like that would be really cute! but if mpreg isn’t your cup of tea I understand!! :)
mpreg is most def my kind of tea.
–
Boyd wakes up with a start, breathing heavily as the noise still rings in his ears, and it takes him a minute to realize that the commotion wasn’t just a dream and that he’s distinctly alone in bed.
He jumps out of bed and down the stairs, something Stiles would definitely mock him about if he saw it, and runs to the kitchen, the only source of light in the house and so noisy with the cacophony of Stiles’ heartbeat.
Boyd skids to a halt right at the doorway and almost steps into a shard of jelly-covered glass, one of many littering the floor.
Stiles is right there in the middle of the mess, barefoot and wearing only boxers and one of Boyd’s shirts that’s still stretched over his protruding belly. He’s rubbing one hand over it, the other clamped around his mouth presumably to stifle any noise that might come out and wake Boyd.
His eyes are shiny with tears.
Boyd hears his breath hitch as Stiles notices him standing in the kitchen, which also seems to break the dam because drops the hand he was pressing to his mouth and uses it to wipe at his face instead.
“I-I’m sorry that I woke you,” Stiles says, still crying.
“It’s okay,” Boyd replies, “Just don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
He waits for Stiles to nod before he hurries away to get a broom, a dustpan and a pair of shoes. Because while he would go through fire for Stiles, walking over glass shards and getting blood over the tiles when Stiles was already stressed would only cause more stress to him.
Shoes on, he deposited the broom and dustpan by the wall and stepped over the mess to reach Stiles.
“Wrap your arms around my neck,” Boyd prompts him gently, waits for Stiles to comply before hunching down a little and lifting him up bridal style.
He carries him to the kitchen table and helps him sit on the tabletop, way above any stray pieces of glass.
He doesn’t let Stiles go right away, mostly because Stiles, too, is still holding onto him, so he takes his time trying to soothe him: rubbing his hands over Stiles’ flanks and belly, nuzzling at his shoulder and cheek.
“You okay?” he asks softly. He can’t smell any blood, or even pain on Stiles, but he knows better not to check.
“Just got startled,” Stiles admits quietly, “I woke up hungry and came down to just get a PB&J or something, but the stupid jar wouldn’t open and then it slipped from my hand…” He sniffs, hugs Boyd as close as he can with their baby between them. “Stupid munchies, and stupid hormones making me all shaky.”
“Shh, it’s all fine. Give me a minute to clean up and then I’ll make you a sandwich and some cocoa, hm? We should still have a jar of jelly.” Or three, Stiles has been really craving jelly this month.
“Okay. Thank you. Sorry I woke you and made a mess.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Boyd jokes, grins when Stiles tries to scowl at him through a smile, leans in to kiss it all away.
omg imagine a pack vacation, what would it be like? or even them separating in couples and sterek being left by themselves while each couple goes to do what they choose and what would sterek be as tourists? would they like museums, sights, hiking? bookstores, cafés? shopping? they would like to do the same thing or they would fight? their room would be messy or clean? omg chaRLIE STEREK AS TOURISTS
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m dead serious, Stiles.”
Stiles groaned loudly and grabbed his hair- well, raised his hands to dig his fingers into the cap he was wearing backwards, the cap he had thrown on to hide the mess of brown hair on the top of his head, and he clawed at it in frustration.
“Lydia, you can’t seriously want to spend the whole vacation sunbathing by the pool. You’re in Paris, the city of love!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms up. “Explore it!”
“I’m well aware that I’m in the city of love,” Lydia started, still not turning her head to look at him through the big sunglasses she was wearing, “which is why I’m spending every second here with my girlfriend and enjoying it.”
Allison smiled from where she was laying next to Lydia and squeezed her girlfriend’s hand, their fingers laced together. It was kind of gross and Stiles was only a little bit jealous. Not because he was still into Lydia, no he was over that. He was jealous because he didn’t have what they had.
“You can spend time with your girlfriend exploring the city with me. Come on, Lydiaaa,” he whined, his shoulders slumping and his brows furrowing. If he were Scott, he would absolutely be making puppy eyes.
“Scott and Kira are off doing couple-y things with Erica and Boyd, Danny and Jackson are off doing whatever, and Isaac is off flirting with that girl he met. You two are all I’ve got and I can’t go exploring the city by myself!”
“I can go with you,” came a voice from the opened door to their hotel room, a voice belonging to Derek.
Sterek, #1
“things you said at 1am”
“D’rek?” Stiles slurs on his shoulder as Derek struggles to keep him upright on the way up the stairs.
“Yes, Stiles?”
“D’you think unicorns exist?”
If Derek had a free hand, he’d be pinching his nose right now. Why did he volunteer to take care of drunk-Stiles? Oh right, because Scott made puppy eyes at him. Derek rolls his eyes at himself as he rights Stiles flush against him. It’s been nearly ten years. Scott should not be able to use the same eyes on him goddammit.
“No, they don’t, Stiles.”
“But werewolves exist and so do wendigos and werecoyotes and banshees and hunters and other werewolves and trolls and leprechauns and demon wolves and – hic – and hellhounds and – why don’t unicorns exist?”
Stiles looks like he’s about to cry. For fuck’s sake.
Derek sighs. “Maybe they exist.”
“Why’d you lie?” Stiles pouts. They reach Stiles’s room and Derek pushes the door open, manhandling Stiles on to the bed. Getting Stiles into his PJs would be a moot point plus his jeans are soft enough to be comfortable in bed so he’ll be fine, Derek decides.
“I was just kidding,” Derek offers.
Stiles cross his arms over his chest, glaring at the blanket that Derek covers him with.
“That’s mean. You should apologize.”
Seriously, Derek’s thirty years old. What is his life right now?
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes with as much patience as he can muster. Derek turns to leave when Stiles catches his wrist, stopping him. Stiles makes a beckoning gesture at him, patting the space right on the edge of the bed, and Derek huffs but sits nonetheless. “What?”
Stiles stares at him silently. “Today was my birthday.” When Stiles doesn’t continue beyond that, Derek raises his brows and nods as if to say, Okay, go on. “Today was my twenty-fifth birthday and ten years ago when Scott got bit I promised myself that if I made it ten years, I’d do something that really made me happy.”
Derek frowns. Made it ten years? Did Stiles really think he wouldn’t have been alive at twenty-five? He takes a deep breath; even the thought of it makes Derek’s blood run cold.
Stiles bites his lips, looking unsure all of a sudden. “And I want to do that.”
“Okay, you should.” Because yeah, dammit, Stiles deserves to be happy. And he says as much.
“I’m glad you said that because you make me happy, Derek.”
Derek’s eyes fly open because there’s no way–
“You make me so happy, dude, you don’t even know. Like every time you leave the Sunday crosswords for me before pack brunch and when you make popcorn for us on movie nights, you always make sure you make some of the natural ones for my dad and you send me cute animal videos when I’m stressed and you always visited me at college at least once a month but you only went to see Isaac and Scott once every two or three months so that clearly means I’m your favourite and I like that so much, dude, because you’re my favourite. We can be each other’s favourite, Derek, think of the possibilities!”
Derek feels like someone just yanked the ground from under his feet because what the actual fuck.
“Stiles–,” he starts but Stiles waves a hand dismissively.
“You make me happy and I love you and I just wanted to say it because I made promise to myself. We can deal with all the other stupid shit later. It’s late, Derek, go to sleep,” Stiles smiles sleepily, sinking into his pillow. Two seconds later, he’s snoring.
The fact that Derek even makes it to the couch downstairs is a miracle but he doesn’t fall asleep for hours, mind in a whirlwind of racing thoughts and overflowing emotions.
–
The next morning, Derek wakes up Stiles with fresh coffee and eggs made just the way he likes them and when Derek deems Stiles sober enough, he slowly puts the dishes aside before kissing Stiles senseless.
They don’t get out of bed for hours.
Providing
Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Rating: G, Word Count:
Fluff, Established Relationship, POV Stiles
♥
Read on AO3For @sterekwriters Summer Bingo prompt: Fishing
Stiles doesn’t know what he’s doing
here. For one, he’s pretty sure he’s violating some kind of protocol by being
present during bonding time between father-in-law and son-in-law. Also, it’s
5am, and both Derek and his dad know he doesn’t function at 5am.They’re sitting by some lake—well, more
an oversized pond—Stiles can’t remember the name of. Derek and his dad are
talking about fishing lures and bait and lines, and about the differences
between fishing in a lake—or oversized pond—and a river. Stiles is sure it’s all
very fascinating, but he doesn’t really care. All he cares about is that he’s sitting
between Derek’s legs, his back very comfortably leaning against Derek’s chest,
one of Derek’s arms is securely wrapped around his waist and his cheek lying
against the soft fabric of Derek’s sweater. Yes, he would’ve preferred to be in
bed, but this is the next best thing. He sighs and wriggles a little closer to
Derek, who presses a kiss on top of his head.Stiles thinks he hears his dad mutter
something about how disgustingly in love and adorable they are, but that could
just the haze of sleep distorting sounds. His dad has never used the word “adorable”
to describe him.Derek and his dad keep talking. The
murmur of their voices mingles with the lapping of the water of the oversized
pond against the shore, and Stiles finds himself drifting further and further
off. He can’t fall asleep, though. Nope. Derek has to fish, has to throw that
line in the water and provide his fiancé with breakfast. Which means that
Stiles will have to move in the near future. He can’t fall asl—~
Smoke tickles his nose, filling it with
the smell of roasted food. And coffee, he can smell coffee. Nice, strong, bitter, warm, magical coffee. Preferably with one sugar and just a dash of milk.Stiles blinks his eyes open. The sun’s a
lot higher than he remembers it being a minute ago. Did he sleep? No, he can’t
have. He’s still in the same position, resting against Derek’s chest,
though Derek’s arm is no longer around his waist. He turns his head to find the
source of the smoke and delicious scents and finds two fish and couple pieces
of bread roasting on the small grill they brought with them.Okay,
he definitely slept.‘Good morning,’ Derek murmurs, pressing
a kiss against Stiles’ cheek.‘Morning. Time’s it?’
Stiles yawns, then sits up to stretch.
He squints at the sun shining almost directly into his eyes, and before he can
ask for his sunglasses, Derek is already gently setting them onto his face.‘Almost 7,’ Derek answers.
‘Did you catch those?’ Stiles asks,
pointing at the fish.‘No. I was playing pillow for someone
who couldn’t stay awake for more than two minutes. But I did pour the coffee,’
Derek says.Stiles wraps his hands around the mug
Derek is holding in front of him, takes a sip and hums. It’s perfect.‘Sorry I made you miss out on the fishing,’
Stiles says, taking another sip.‘I didn’t say I minded.’
Stiles smiles and leans back again. He
sips his coffee while he looks out over the oversized pond. The sunlight breaks
on the water, making it sparkle and creating miniature rainbows that disappear
as quickly as they appear. Even with smell of the roasted fish, Stiles can
smell the freshness of a new summer day in the air.‘You two done being adorable,’ his dad
says, breaking the momentary peace. ‘Food’s done.’‘Did you just call us adorable?’ Stiles asks. He has to be
sure, because it means that his dad probably used it earlier, too. That’s twice
in one day.‘Yes. The two of you not lovingly
bickering with each other is disturbing, and making me delirious,’ his dad
says, but he’s smiling. He holds out a plates with bread and fish for both
Derek and Stiles. ‘Eat your food.’Stiles untangles himself from Derek and
sits down between his dad and his fiancé.‘We should do this more often,’ he says
stuffing a piece of toast in his mouth.‘Next time you’re gonna fish, because
you need to earn your keep, son.’‘Hey! I was the mascot! I think I earned
my keep just fine.’ Stiles points at the fish filled plates. ‘Derek’s the one
who didn’t do anything.’‘And whose fault is that,’ Derek throws
back.‘You said you didn’t mind.’
‘I didn’t, but I’m starting to.’
‘And all is right with the world again,’
his dad mutters.Stiles glares at his dad. He considers
throwing a piece of fish at him, but decides to angrily stuff it into his mouth
instead. It’s far too delicious to waste.
Swimming Lessons
Here’s my first entry for Sterek Summer Bingo!
*
“Derek, I need you to drive Cora and her friend to swim lessons today,” Talia called from the kitchen.
Derek’s eyes rolled. “Ugh, Mom, seriously? Why can’t Laura do it?” He had a very important video game plan today that did not include little sisters.
“Laura’s busy. It’ll only take a few minutes- check them in with Stiles, and tell him I’ll pick the girls up after class.”
“Stiles? Stiles is teaching Cora’s swim class?”
His mom poked her head out of the kitchen to look at him. “Why, do you know him?”
“Uh, yeah. Sort of.” Sort of in the way that means I’d like to get to know him biblically, Derek thought. “We had a couple classes together last year.”
“Well, good, then you know who to look for when you get there.”
Twenty minutes and a little-girl-giggle-filled car ride later, Derek walked Cora and Jenny into the YMCA and reminded himself that looking was done with the eyes, not with his hands.
But god, how he wished it was. Were those swim trunks even appropriate for Stiles to wear around kids? They were… black, and wet, and all… clingy.
“Stiles? Mom said I was supposed to drop these runts off with you.” Cora’s face wrinkled up in an adorably miniature version of their mom’s glare as Derek laughed.
“Oh, hey Derek, thanks.” Stiles checked their names off on a clipboard and shooed the girls off to get changed. “Taxicab duty, huh?”
“Yeah, my mom was busy.” Derek very studiously didn’t watch the way Stiles fidgeted with his pen.
“Is she coming to get them after class?”
Between his brain and his mouth, the word yes turned into, “uh, no, actually, I am. I could… Do you need a ride home, maybe? I didn’t see your Jeep out there.”
Stiles grinned. “Actually, yeah, that’d be great. My jeep’s kind of out of commission.”
It took two dates for Derek to admit that his mom had been planning on picking up Cora from class; it wasn’t until the fourth one that Stiles admitted his car had been parked behind the YMCA building the whole time.
Written for the @sterekwriters Summer Bingo Tournament.
For the prompt: Movie/Concert in the Park
(One of my favorite summer pastimes is Cinespia at Hollywood Forever, so I decided to set this fic there. If you’re ever in LA at the right time, definitely go check it out!)
(P.S. I mention neighborhood street parking in this fic mostly because that’s what we used to do back when the event was first gaining notoriety, but DON’T DO THAT.)
Los Angeles is pretty much exactly what Derek expected.
But he bites back any complaints he might have about it for Laura’s sake. He’s only visiting for a week. He can suck it up and deal with the traffic and the noise and the people for a few days if it means he gets to see his sister for the first time since she made the trek out to his cabin last Christmas.
To be fair, Laura is trying. Everywhere she’s taken him so far has been fairly low-key and quiet. A hole-in-the-wall sushi bar, a few of the less frequented trails in Griffith Park, a used bookstore with a tabby cat lounging across the register.
It’s been nice, and–well, if not a welcome, then at least a reluctantly needed–change of pace from his daily routine back in small town Oregon.
Tonight is different. Tonight Laura’s decided to drag Derek out to an outdoor movie showing in the Hollywood Forever Cemetery, and the place is packed.
He appreciates the novelty of the experience. The ambiance and the friendly, laid-back atmosphere. Even the DJ spinning before the show starts is decent. But the sheer volume of people is a little intimidating, especially when Laura abandons him to go wait in line at the bathrooms.
Derek grabs the bottle of wine they brought with them and takes a swig.
The group of college kids closest to him, spread out across a couple blankets on his right, have thankfully gotten less and less rowdy as the sun sets. Conversation in which most of them tended to shout over each other to be heard, and a brief wrestling match that broke out among two of the guys, has calmed down into murmurs and cuddling as they each pair off for the main event.
Except for one of them. A slim, brown haired guy, who’s now the fifth wheel on what’s suddenly become a double date for his friends.
shealwaysreads 