I took the simone biles + zac efron thing (x)(x) and sterek-ed it (with a few creative liberties…)
**
“So, Stiles, we’re getting to the end of our interview now, and I just
have one more question for you.”“Shoot,” Stiles says, grinning.
“Is it true that you have a bit of a crush on a certain actor by the
name of Derek Hale.”Stiles blushes and he’s sure it’s picked up by the several cameras on
him currently. “Oh man, I wouldn’t call it a crush,” he hedges, rubbing at his
chin, “I just think he’s really good. I mean, who doesn’t, but yeah, um…”The crowd’s laughing and Stiles turns around the see that the screen
behind him is showing a compilation of seemingly every tweet he’s ever written
about Derek Hale. He buries his face in his hands and groans, which makes the
audience laugh.“I’m so embarrassed right now,” he mumbles, though of course the mic
clipped to him picks it up.The host laughs good-naturedly. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed
about. Who here has a crush on Derek?” she throws to the crowd. There’s a lot
of cheering and screaming, so at least Stiles can console himself that he’s not
alone in his appreciation for Derek’s form. Acting form. Like talent. Not like,
body form.“Me too, me too.” The host turns back to Stiles, who has emerged from
behind his hands, cheeks still pink (he can see them nice and big on the
screens around the studio). “Well, we have a little surprise for you, Stiles.
If you want to turn to the screen.”Stiles turns, a little (a lot) worried.
His tweets disappear and there is a second of blackness before a video
recording starts playing.“Oh my god!” Stiles shouts, and actually jumps out of his chair before
he can tell himself to contain his reaction.“Hi Stiles, this is Derek Hale,” the video starts. Derek’s sitting on a
couch in what is probably his living room, staring right at the camera so it
looks like he’s staring right at Stiles. Stiles is melting a little on the
inside and sweating a lot on the outside to show that.On screen, Derek waves, and Stiles, like the giant dork he is, waves
back enthusiastically. There are some laughs from the audience but Stiles is so
transfixed by cataloguing everything he can see in the frame that it doesn’t
faze him like it did a minute ago. “I just want to wish you all the best for
the Olympics. I’ll be cheering for you, and crossing my fingers for a medal. Go
Team USA, and good luck, Stiles.”The video ends on a freeze frame of Derek smiling gorgeously at Stiles–
at the camera.“Do I get a copy of that?” Stiles asks the host, to more laughter from
the audience.“You sure do,” she says, “and I’d check your twitter when you get home
too.”
Tag: getting together
rip okay so im literally always game for those fics where for some reason, when stiles and derek are apart from eachother, stiles +/or the both of them feel like complete shit physically, and they fall for eachother bc of close proximity and cuddles. Basically whiny stiles and forced resentful domestic fluff is the best. I hope youre feeling better, and hopefully this prompt speaks to you! <3 I love your writing and I'm so happy youre feeling better and maybe coming back. Take your time bby
“You can’t possibly be blaming me for this.”
Derek aims a dry look Stiles’ way. It’s an effort with Stiles plastered grudgingly to his chest like this, their arms wrapped around each other while Stiles’ body slowly stops quaking.
“How else should I react when something’s obviously your fault?”
And it had been. Stiles had been the one to discover the clearly magical artifact tucked into an ancient looking box on the clinic’s counter and, not only pick up said artifact, but then startle and shout like he was dying when it snaked into motion, twisting viper-fast around his wrist.
So then maybe Derek had launched himself forward, grabbing Stiles’ arm and giving the artifact a chance to hook around him too, twisting like a figure eight around both their wrists and leaving behind a barely-there brand before dropping, cool and lifeless, to the ground. But at that point, really, what should he have done? Let Stiles stand there screaming while an aggressive magical item made itself a permanent decoration on his arm?
Yes, clearly. But then, hindsight.
Stiles heaves an exasperated breath into Derek’s shirt by way of reply, dropping his death grip on Derek and elbowing at his chest. His quivering’s almost completely stopped.
“Whatever. I’m fine now, I can stand.”
There’s a pull the second Derek lets him go; an almost unconscious urge to chase after, wrap Stiles back up safe in his arms. He leans back on his heels pointedly, doesn’t give in to the tug. Stiles crosses his arms, his head dropped down, and it makes him look small and petulant but Derek figures he’s probably just fighting the same urge Derek is. Working to maintain distance.
“Promise brands,” Deaton had said, looking between them with a sort of frowning scrutiny that seemed to indicate both that he was disappointed in them as well as being eager to study the effects of the magic close up. “An outdated form of engagement ritual, I believe. Used to bind the intended couple physically for a period, to assure the families that they were ready for the commitment of marriage. …Or possibly used for prisoner transport. I hadn’t completed a full analysis.”
At this point, Derek is leaning decidedly toward the latter.
He paces away now, feeling the itch on his wrist tug like a wolfsbane-laced leash with every step. Ignores the hurt sound that punches out of Stiles when he clears five, and takes another few, determinedly, before dropping too tense onto the edge of his couch. He can’t help leaning forward, every line of his body wrought tension. His breaths have already started to go thin.
Stiles hasn’t moved an inch since Derek started walking, his body drawn tight, heartbeat a wild staccato in the air. Derek doesn’t care. Stiles’ bottom lip is sucked in between his teeth, fingers digging white into the sleeves of his red and black flannel, and Derek doesn’t care.
Worrying about Stiles is what had gotten them into this mess in the first place.
The twelve feet between them feels like twelve miles. Not that twelve miles’ distance from Stiles would bother Derek on a normal day. Would probably be a relief. At least then his heartbeat wouldn’t be drumming through Derek’s brain, pounding frantic, insistent, deafening.
He grits out “come here” and Stiles is moving before the words are even finished, crossing the space at an almost-run and dropping onto the couch. He stops just short of actually collapsing on Derek again, dropping his head against the back of the couch with a sigh.
“I hate you so much” slides out, sounding grateful.
Derek grunts a wordless agreement and threads their fingers together. Hears Stiles’ heart skip and start to settle the second they touch.
omg if you want a prompt, this is a weird one but uhhhh derek as a college campus bicycle cop and stiles as a petty vandal/student protestor (possibly in revealing clothing bc why the fuck not) and derek utterly failing at shutting that shit down <3 xoxoxo
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
It’s hot as Satan’s balls, barely eleven o’clock, and Derek is fucking done.
“Officer Calves, paging Officer Calves, come-in, please,” she says, annoying and nasal and hidden behind her hand. He throws the bike down and glares at her. “Hey now, that’s no way to treat department property.”
“Call me Officer Calves one more time, Erica, I swear to god.”
She throws her head back, cackling. He looks to the sky for strength.
“It’s your own fault for wearing those and looking like that,” she says, raising her brows at his legs, “when you work in a campus full of just-legal kids who haven’t discovered vibrators yet.”
He scowls at her, disgusted. He should have known from the moment they overheard the Freshmen pseudonym for him that it wouldn’t go away. Erica had laughed so hard she threw up a little.
"This is standard uniform. I’m adhering to section—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know Mr Working-Through-My-Law-Degree,” she says, rolling her eyes. “But seriously, is that spray-tan? You’ve got some serious definition going on there below the knee.” She makes a sweeping gesture to her own immaculately toned legs. He’s not even dignifying that with an answer.
“Why did you call me over?” he sighs, and she’s still stifling a mean giggle when she tries to reply.
“Our little Da Vinci’s struck again,” she says, and Derek feels a stupid, betraying flare of excitement in his chest.
He lets out a grunt, covering the reaction. “What is it now?”
“Societal criticism. Isaac says he’s the voice of a generation.”
“Isaac’s an idiot and he’s easily impressed,” Derek grouses. He is not going to be enthralled by this. He isn’t.
He sighs. “Show me.”
Not Made of Marble
Sterek, pure fluff and love okay?
It had been nearly
eight years since Beacon Hills had returned to its previous state of peaceful
small town quietude in the wake of the death and destruction started by Kate
Argent and her massacre of the Hale family. Stiles had graduated high school,
and then college, and then his post graduate degree too. During that period the Beacon Hills
pack had come to an understanding with Deaton, and had been informed that the
murder of Derek’s family was the act that had created the darkness in the Nemeton.
The sheer force of
Kate’s all too human hatred had disrupted the balance. So Beacon Hills had
filled with chaos and strife, the magic and life of the land itself thrown out
of balance and aeons old peace. Once they understood that it had been a remarkably
simple, if remarkably hard, task to re-set that balance. If hate was the thing
that had created this malign imbalance, then love was the only thing to heal
their town. Stiles, Scott and Allison’s sacrifices for their parents was a
beginning. Lydia saving Jackson was another step. Over the months and years the
whole pack went through therapy, they developed a strict practice of honesty
and once everyone followed that it all…fell into place.
Stiles and Scott
nurtured their brotherhood and their love for each other was as strong as it
always had been. But Stiles also learnt to open up a little more, bring Isaac
and Erica and Boyd into his close-knit circle of ‘People Who I Would Kill And
Die For’. Derek finally relaxed into his role as an Alpha, co-leading the pack
with Scott and finding his own brotherhood with him. He found the trust and
hope he had always thought would elude him, and shared his memories and
knowledge of werewolf lore and his family history with his new pack. When the
Sheriff was brought into the know, the whole pack relaxed knowing that there
was always going to be someone to the interface between the supernatural world
and the human one. Derek and Erica seemed to benefit even more than Stiles from
this new addition to the pack; both of them blossoming under the gruff but
paternal support that John had a seemingly endless supply of now that he
understood his son’s life fully.
Relationships between
the pack ebbed and flowed. Scott and Allison continued their make-up-break-up
tendencies until college when Allison went travelling and Scott went to the
local community college to study towards his veterinary degree. They opened up
their relationship and when Allison returned, full of new experiences and
languages and fighting techniques, Isaac had been brought into their life by
Scott. The multiplication of their loving glances and absolute mutual adoration
by three was almost overwhelming, but the pack settled even further. John and
Melissa got married two years into the pack’s college years. Having quietly
courted and dated, they had a simple ceremony followed by a party in the garden
and forest surrounding the house that Derek built on the old Hale property.
Stiles ended up
staying at Derek’s more often than not on his breaks from college, John and
Melissa having moved into their own new home as a couple. He and Derek were the
only members of the pack still single, but happy to spend their time together
in this hard won relaxation and friendship. Every week they had a pack dinner
at one of their homes and the favourite host ended up being Stiles, to
everyone’s surprise except John, Melissa and Scott. They had been the ones to
see Stiles learn to cook in the wake of his mother’s death, and eventually find
his way to her cookbooks. He revelled in being able to cook for his pack, his
newly enlarged family, and his love for them and for Claudia was poured into
every pot. It was after one of his nights to cook, held at Derek’s house, that
Stiles and Derek finally crossed that tantalising boundary they had been
dancing along for almost a decade. Laughing and teasing over the washing up and
drying Derek had suddenly stilled, his attention entirely focused on Stiles.
“Is there something on
my face man?” Stiles said, secure enough in their friendship that he didn’t
feel any embarrassment – just the potential for more laughter. But Derek just
shook his head and reached out, touching Stiles’ cheek with the barest hint of
fingertips.
“No,” Derek murmured,
“no. It just. It just struck me that I’ve never told you how beautiful you are
when you laugh.” His fingers trailed down the side of Stiles’ face and his hand
fell to his side. No awkwardness, just patience. Derek knew to wait when Stiles
was computing new information, not to take the gaping mouth and lack of
response personally.
“I-“ Stiles reached
out to grab the dishtowel to dry his soapy hands, not breaking eye contact with
a still smiling Derek, “I think you’re beautiful when you laugh too. You’re
getting laugh lines. Seeing them, it makes me feel like all of this was worth
it.”
After that the whole
pack felt the ripple effect of their happiness at finally finding each other,
ready and willing for a future together. Now at pack dinners Stiles didn’t just
cook the food his mother used to make. Derek had found one of his grandfather’s
cookbooks and had given it to Stiles, who had practiced until he could almost perfectly recreate the tastes of
Derek’s childhood. Slow roasted meats and treacle sweet desserts filled the
tables along with home baked bread and fresh salads from the garden Derek had
planted.
The pack still ran on
full moon nights, and maintained their awareness of the town’s safety, but
without imminent threat all of them slowed down and enjoyed the little things
in life. Scott adopted three dogs before Isaac and Allison stopped him, Melissa
and John took vacations, and Derek stopped his manic runs and workouts. It had
never been about how it made his body look, rather it was a way of punishing
himself and trying to exhaust the endless chasm of guilt inside of his heart.
Now that he had realised his family’s deaths were not his fault and that he
didn’t have to fight for his life every day, Derek enjoyed a slower pace of
life. He watched baseball with Stiles and John, and had movie nights with Lydia
and Erica (of course The Notebook featured heavily). He still ran in the
forest, but for the pleasure of the scents of the land and the sights of the
changing seasons. And he always returned to a warm home that smelled of
whatever delicious breakfast Stiles had conjured up.
The first time he
really noticed the change in his body was when he was getting ready to go to a
party Lydia had arranged and his usual ‘smart’ jeans were a bit tight around
his middle. He didn’t pay it much notice and put up with the slight
discomfort. He only thought of it
again that night when Stiles stripped him in their living room and frowned at
the marks left where the tight material had cut into his soft skin, before
kissing the tender redness as the marks slowly disappeared and carrying on
their lovemaking.
It began to be
something that preoccupied him though, the fact that he couldn’t see his abs as
clearly as he used to be able to. His tops weren’t as loose around his middle
as they had used to be, and he had to buy new jeans because his old ones were
too uncomfortably tight. Chubby, that’s the word he would have used for
himself. He was still muscled, he reasoned, as he flexed in the bathroom
mirror. It was just that it was sort of hidden now. But the stray thought had crossed his mind that maybe Stiles
would notice this different body and not appreciate it as much as he had
(loudly and repeatedly) enjoyed the ripped abs and sleek waist that Derek used
to have. So it was back to sit ups and an exercise regimen, because he loved
Stiles and didn’t want to let him down by letting this change become permanent.
That evening Stiles
got home from picking up some groceries and Derek got caught in the living room,
shirtless and mid sit-up. Stiles’ wide eyed stare threw Derek, and he felt like
he had somehow done something wrong when Stiles closed his mouth and carefully
put the grocery bags onto a side table keeping silent the whole time. Stiles
made his way over to Derek and slowly knelt between his bent legs and took
Derek’s face in his hands, one palm on each softly bearded cheek and every so
gently shook him.
“Derek Hale, I swear
to God if you’re doing this because you put on a few pounds and you think I
don’t like it I am going to withhold sex for a week.” Stiles looked around the
room nervously before continuing. “I mean, I still want kisses and cuddles
okay, I’m only human, but no mutual orgasms. Not until you let this particular
nonsense go.”
Derek rolled his eyes
and shrugged, feeling slightly uncomfortable and exposed now that he knows for
sure that Stiles had noticed the
change in his body. Maybe he was right, he did need to work out. Stiles
deserved the man he had originally fallen in love with.
Stiles’ warm amber
eyes locked upon his again, and his mobile face went serious. “I love you
regardless of your jean size, you’re the best man I know. If you want to work
out because it’s making you happy then I will gleefully sit back and watch you
work up a sweat. But if you think I find you any less sexy and goddamn
beautiful than I ever have, then I’ve been letting you down and I’m sorry.”
Derek brought his
hands up to wrap his fingers around Stiles’ wrists, holding his hands to his
face as he leaned forward to drop a gentle kiss onto Stiles’ mouth. How did
this man know him so well? He had only just come to the conclusion that he
needed to lose weight that morning, and here Stiles was, cutting through any
self-consciousness or fears with his own particular brand of sarcasm and utter
sincerity.
“You don’t have
anything to be sorry for Stiles, I got a bit into my own head.” Derek murmured
into the short space between their mouths, “You’re sure though?”
Stiles leaned forward
and kissed Derek again, more thoroughly this time, and kept pushing forward
until Derek had no choice but to lie back on his exercise mat with Stiles
stretched out on top of him. He loved this, the warmth and weight of Stiles on
him, grounding him even as he built him up.
Stiles propped himself
up on his elbows, his gaze darting around Derek’s face, and he leered down at
him. “You want me to show you how sure I am?”
With that he ground
down and Derek groaned as he felt the unmistakable line of heat in Stiles’
pants, his own dick twitching at the friction between them. Stiles kissed him
again, full and deep, his tongue mapping out Derek’s mouth like it was their
first kiss all over again. Derek’s hands fell to Stiles’ undulating hips, able
to do nothing more than cling on as Stiles took control and moved against him
with purpose. Stiles trailed his kisses from Derek’s mouth to his neck, which
he lavished with attention and sucking kisses and gentle nips that made Derek
cry out and arch his back into the sensation. From there Stiles just moved his
mouth further south and latched on to Derek’s nipples, one at a time, licking
and sucking and biting until they were puffy and pink, and Derek was writhing
underneath him.
“I love your body
Derek, I loved it when you worked out all the time and you were like some kind
of marble statue.” Another kiss, another grinding thrust. “But I love your body
now even more, because you’re not a statue, you’re a man and you’re safe and
you’re loved and this is the body you live and love in.” Stiles’ voice was
sex-deep and rough as he let out his own moan, his body shuddering against
Derek’s as their movements became more frenzied. Derek dragged Stiles back down
to him, and held him close as he took his mouth in a rough kiss and thrust up
against Stiles until he felt him tense up and then relax in a rush as his
orgasm hit. Derek followed him over the edge, whining into the kiss, as he
smelled both of their come and the surge of contentment and happiness that
rolled off Stiles.
“Stiles,” Derek half
whispered into the crook of Stiles’ neck, scenting him in this moment of
intimacy. “Stiles, I can’t believe we just came in our pants like teenagers.”
Stiles just sniggered
in response as he rose to his feet, grimacing slightly as the movement made him
aware of the rapidly cooling mess in his underwear, and he held out his hand to
held Derek up. Once he was standing, Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s
waist and sweetly kissed him on the lips.
“What can I say
lover-wolf, you just get to me when you lounge around all shirtless and
gorgeous.” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows before continuing. “What say you
to a shower before the pack comes over for dinner – see if we can fit in round
two?”
Derek groaned, but
didn’t hesitate to heft a shrieking Stiles up and carry him to the bathroom
wrapped koala style around his waist. It might be a little wider and softer than
it used to be, but as long as Stiles was content then so was Derek.
“Oh my God you guys!” Scott wailed. “I thought
we talked about sex smells on dinner nights?!”
Stiles just smirked
and gave Derek the biggest slice of roast beef while the rest of the pack
heckled and laughed, the room full of the scents of delicious food, love, and
happiness.
For @demisexualhale who flailed with me about chubby!derek and how Stiles would still ADORE him and then this happened – I hope you enjoy it my lovely. As I said, this turned into unadulterated fluff and I’M NOT SORRY!!
😎
Breaking Bad Habits (Stiles/Derek)
@Laeryna prompted: Stiles/Derek “and then there was tongue”
Hope you enjoy!Breaking Bad Habits. Stiles/Derek. Teen.
Stiles has a bad habit of falling for unattainable higher beings that would never so much as look at a mere mortal like him. The latest focus of his unrequited affection is his personal trainer, Derek Hale, who is a Greek God come to life.
Going to the gym is torture. Sweet torture, but still torture. It’s been about sixty days since he made the bet to start working out, and he can see the benefits to regular fitness in the way he doesn’t get out of breath chasing suspects and the way his shirts are starting to fit a little snugger around his biceps. Erica’s told him his thighs are looking so good that she’s considering using a free pass from Boyd to get between them, and even Scott’s commented on how nice Stiles’ ass is looking. Of course, that remark had been followed by Scott telling him that his ass has always been nice and tight, but it’s just more toned now. Considering Scott’s straight, that’s a pretty good compliment.
Younger!Derek being all sad ’cause he thinks Laura is dating her BFF Stiles but not really she just makes him think that because she likes messing with him and Stiles is completely oblivious and doesn’t get why Lauras cute nerdy brother glares at him
”Okay, what did I do?” Stiles
whispers, and Laura makes a small hum of acknowledgement without
taking her eyes off the TV. ”Your brother’s been giving me the
hairy eyeball for like thirty minutes now. Seriously, did I do
something to tick him off? If I did, please tell me so I can make it
right. You know I’m trying to stay on his good side.”Laura snorts. ”Yeah, I know.”
Stiles shushes her softly, because
while Derek has finally redirected his scowling to his book instead
of Stiles’ face, his ears probably work fine.”Don’t worry about it, man, I got
this,” Laura murmurs. Alarm bells go off immediately, and Stiles
pokes her until she turns her full and annoyed attention to him.
”What?””Laur, what did you do?”
”I did you a solid, that’s what.”
Stiles is not at all convinced, and the
placating smooch on the cheek she gives him does nothing to alleviate
his worry. It does make Derek snap a pencil clean in half at the
table where he’s still doing homework, and Stiles knows something’s
going on here. But he’ll be damned if he can figure out what.”Look, whatever you did, Laur, I
don’t think it’s working, so I’m just gonna go see if I can smooth
things over with Derek, alright?””Fine,” Laura grumbles and makes
herself more comfortable on the couch as he leaves it.Derek looks like he’d rather eat razor
blade soup than talk to Stiles, but he also doesn’t go away, so
Stiles takes it as an invitation to sit down at the table. ”History
paper?””Mhm,” Derek grunts.
”Finished mine earlier today. Laura
was a bro and let me borrow her notes from last year.””That’s nice of her.” Derek ’s
voice is surprisingly cold. He’s usually rabidly protective and
loving when it comes to his family, and Stiles stares at him.”What, she didn’t let you borrow them
too?”Derek shrugs. ”Didn’t have to.”
”Right, of course, you wouldn’t need
them, would you.” Stiles knows history is Derek’s favorite subject,
and if he’d thought there was any chance in hell it could happen,
Stiles would ask Derek to study with him. Only, by studying he
really means ten percent studying and nintey percent making out. A
guy can dream.”I’m… glad she’s treating you
well,” Derek says suddenly, and Stiles blinks in confusion.”Yeah, I mean. She’s a good friend.”
Derek finally looks up, brows creased.
”You mean… girlfriend.”Stiles sputters so hard he nearly falls
off his chair. ”What?! No! I would never! Like, don’t get me
wrong, she’s an amazing woman and will make some lucky guy or gal
very scared and horny some day, but I am not that guy or girl, and I
will never be, okay?”Derek stares at him for another long
moment before slamming down the pencil that replaced the broken one,
and gets up with a shriek of chair on hardwood. ”Excuse me,” he
growls, and Laura vaults over the back of the couch and out of the
room as Derek chases after her.”I was trying to help!” Stiles
hears Laura squeal from somewhere out back, and Stiles might be a
little blinded by the beauty and awesomeness of all the Hales who
have somehow taken him under their wing, but he’s not a complete idiot, and
everything suddenly clicks in his mind, making him grin stupidly,
because how did he not see it?Derek comes back in a few minutes later
with twigs in his hair and a very charming flush to his face, but
also a swagger that says he totally won the scuffle. Stiles smiles
goofily at him, because god, he’s sweet on this man.”So,” Stiles says. ”Since that’s
out of the way, why don’t me and you study for that history paper
together?”There’s a pregnant pause while Derek
stares at him again, more confused than hurt now, the difference
obvious now that Stiles knows that’s what it was. ”I thought you
said you’d finished it?””I have.”
”So why would- oh.”
It’s beautiful, the moment Derek
catches on. And Stiles totally gets his wish. In fact, the ratio is
more like one percent studying and the rest is making out.End.
Smooth Like Your Face
Title: Smooth Like Your Face
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Rating: T
Word count: 2525
Inspired by this post. Thank you to @offeringpeoplegumisnotcooking for the idea to make this a coffee shop AU where Stiles uses a bunch of pick-up lines on Derek, and @inell, @endgame-sterek, and @imagine036 for prompting me with specific lines to use.
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.
i really like the idea of derek coming back to beacon hills when stiles starts training for a deputy position. so stiles is older and more mature but he still has a soft spot for derek. and then he and derek start to hang out and spend their nights together and they become best friends. and then slowly but surely they realize just how in love they are with each other and there’s no big declaration of love. it’s just simple and easy and they go from friends to lovers so seamlessly
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.
Operation: Fragile Stiles
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.
“I accidentally called you my girlfriend/boyfriend today.” Stiles/Derek
Stiles lets himself into Derek’s
apartment, calling out a hello as he dumps Derek’s mail on the side. It’s not
an unusual habit, Stiles spotting Derek’s scant bills and correspondence in his
mailbox and grabbing it for him on the way up. What is unusual
is Derek not rolling his eyes when Stiles comes through the door with his post. He likes to complain that he
might have something private in there and that Stiles is too nosy for his own
good. Stiles always taps his nose, says it’s too cute to be an annoyance, and
Derek rolls his eyes again, turns away with a fond smile.Stiles likes putting that smile
there, likes seeing Derek happy, revelling in something as easy and light as
gentle bickering. To some people it might seem like nothing, to Stiles and
Derek it’s a damn miracle. After everything they’ve been through, survived, to
come out the other side and still have some sort of lightness inside of them;
Stiles is endlessly grateful. He’s
glad to be alive, glad that Derek is, too. He likes getting into the semantics
of whether or not having a cute nose gets him a free pass when it comes to
rummaging through Derek’s mailbox. Besides, it’s not like he ever reads it; Derek doesn’t get anything
particularly interesting. That’s not the point, it’s just a habit, now. The
same way Derek always reminds Stiles to take a sweater with them if they’re
headed out, or Stiles picks up Hershey’s kisses at the store because he knows
Derek likes them, but won’t buy them himself on pain of death.Not, that he’s using that phrase literally.
shealwaysreads 