This was definitely inspired by How I Met Your Mother. No regrets.
2:15 AM
“Dude, admit it,” Stiles slurs. “We’d be great parents!”
Derek nods empathetically. “We would be!”
Stiles looks at him with wide eyes. “We should totally adopt a baby!”
“We should adopt a baby!”
–
Earlier that night, 9:35 PM
“Still bummed out about the breakup?” Derek asks, coming up behind Stiles. It’s a chilly night so Derek’s glad he decided to wear the dark purple cable knit sweater Laura got him as an early Christmas present.
Stiles gives an indifferent shrug. “Meh.”
“Liar.”
“Pathetic, isn’t it?” Stiles murmurs, sipping his drink. “Goddamn, Allison makes a mean drink.”
Derek huffs, taking a sip of his own coke-infused vodka. He makes a face at the burn in his throat. “She does, and it’s not pathetic.”
Stiles frowns. “What? Of course, it’s not. Allison is the best bartender ever. She knows what my heart wants and needs. She’s gifted, not pathetic.”
“I meant about your breakup, dumbass.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, it’s not pathetic.”
Stiles snorts, staring out at the city as he leans on the balcony railing. “You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves, man. Admit it. I’m twenty-eight, stuck in a job that I hate, trying to find the person of my dreams so I can finally settle down, but instead–,” he cuts off, shaking his head. “I’m wasting my time. What am I doing wrong, Derek? I don’t get it.”
Derek looks away, leaning on the railing beside Stiles. Despite the warmth of the sweater, tiny little goosebumps erupt on his skin from the way Stiles leans into him for a moment too brief for Derek’s liking before pulling away.
“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Derek finally manages to say, but this only makes Stiles roll his eyes. “No, hey, listen, you’re not! You’re a great guy. Think I’d hang out with you if you weren’t?”
“I always thought it was because of my sparkling wit.”
Derek snorts. “I think you meant to say despite your sparkling wit.”
Stiles smacks his stomach, making him smile. “Fucker.”
“Stiles, you’re a great guy and one day, you’re going to find someone who not only appreciates that but loves it. And your age is a number. I mean, look at me. I’m almost thirty-three.”
Stiles checks his watch. “Three more hours, buddy.”
“I think the most important part is to keep trying. You might strike out, but at least you’ll have tried.”
“Easy to say when you look like that,” Stiles points out, waving his hand at Derek’s general everything and it infuriates him. If there’s anything Derek hates more than cocky, drunk Stiles, it’s self-deprecating, drunk Stiles. Self-deprecating Stiles never sees what Derek sees; he sees the failed relationships, the minute insecurities, the inability to settle down.
Derek sees the Stiles that’s always trying and hoping for something more, the confidence he gives other people when they’re doubting themselves, and the ability to keep going. Derek sees the strong, loyal, honest version of Stiles and it really gets to him when Stiles turns a blind eye to all of that.
“So why am I single?” Derek asks instead. Truth be told, there’s only one reason Derek’s still single and he’s staring at it.
Stiles squints at him. “Why are you single? You can go to any bar and I bet you can get any guy to bend over backward with just one word.”
“We already made that bet and you already won,” Derek points out.
“Exactly! So why are you single?”
Derek opens his mouth to say it, to finally admit to Stiles something that he’s been wanting to say for close to two years now, but chickens out at the last second. “I don’t know.”
“Another Christmas, another lonely year.” Stiles sighs, gulping the last of his drink. “I’m gonna go inside and get another drink. Want a refill?”
Derek shakes his head. “I’m good with this, thanks.”
–
2:20 AM
“Wait, wait, wait,” Derek shushes him, making Stiles pout. “We can’t do this.”
“But Derek–”
“We have to name the baby! We can’t just call it ‘the baby’!”
Stiles looks at him with awe. “Dude, you are so right! What about Luke?”
Derek wrinkles his nose at him. He opens his mouth but closes it with a pop. “What if the baby is a girl? I like girls better. Means I can have a gun and pretend to clean it when she brings a boy over. Or a girl. Whoever she wants.”
“Leia!”
“We can’t call the baby Leia!”
“Why not?”
“Because! No, wait, because, that’s gonna – hic – our dog’s name!”
“We have a dog?” Stiles gasps, nearly knocking over the red cup. He leans over, smacking both his hands on Derek’s face and holding it tightly. “Der, you can’t lie, kay? We have a dog?”
Derek almost stumbles back at Stiles’s weight but manages to right himself. “Of course we have a dog, idiot. What family with kids doesn’t have a dog?”
Up close, Stiles’s eyes are very shiny and brown. They may also be sparkling.
“Der, we’d be a family! That’s all I’ve ever wanted!”
Derek hiccups again, blinking his eyes. He feels himself leaning over onto Stiles but Stiles steadies him. This is nice, he thinks. It should always be like this. Derek falling over and Stiles catching him.
“I’d always catch you, idiot.”
“Huh?”
“You just said–no wait, back to Leia the puppy. No, wait, before that. If Leia’s the puppy, what do we name our baby daughter?”
Derek thinks for a second. “Can we name her Natalia?”
Stiles gives him a hopeful look. “Natalia Claudia Stilinski-Hale?”
Derek beams. “ Yes!”
–
11:24 PM
“Excited for the big 3-3?” Stiles asks, humming pleasantly.
Derek shrugs, looking at him through his periphery. “Age is but a number.”
Stiles laughs. “C’mon, seriously.”
“What’s not to enjoy? I’m gonna be 33, I’ll be a real adult–”
“I thought that happened at the big 3-0?”
Derek snorts. “Apparently we didn’t get that memo.”
Stiles laughs. “Damn straight.”
“I’m–I’m just so happy, y’know? Like despite all the shitty stuff that we’ve all been through. I’m so glad I get to look around that room–” Derek says, pointing at the living room behind them. “–and see all the people that I love and care about and know that I get to have them all for another year. That I got to have all of them for 33 years and I can have them for another one.”
Stiles gives him a considering look, before slowly breaking out into a smile. “Dude, you’re so drunk. You’re getting all cheesy and shit.”
Derek shoves him half-heartedly, making him giggle. “Nuh uh!”
“Yuh huh!”
“Nuh uh!”
“Yuh huh!”
2:30 AM
“We should go adopt Luke or Natalia right now!” Stiles says after a few minutes of quiet, making Derek lose his train of thought.
“Hm? Whazzat now?” Derek squints at him. “Who’s Luke? Is that your new boyfriend?”
Stiles gives an exaggerated gasp. “How dare you, sir? I would never cheat on you!”
Derek gives him a dopey smile. “Good.” He pats Stiles on the cheek. “I’d never cheat on you either. I love you so much,” he emphasizes it by throwing his arms out, almost knocking Stiles down.
“Aw, bro! We’d be the best parents ever!”
“Obviously!” Derek grins before something occurs to him. “We can call this Operation: Bro Parenting!”
Stiles gasps. “Ohmygawwwwwd, yes!” He stumbles upright and punches the air. “Operation: Bro Parenting is a go!”
–
11:54 PM
“Dude, dude, dude,” Stiles grins at him. “You’re going to be 33 in like five minutes. Oh man!”
Derek nods. “I’m going to be so wise and old and you better listen to me. With age comes wisdom and I’ve seen the future, Stiles! I’ve seen, um, wait, you’re 28.” He starts counting on his fingers, blinking when his fingers don’t stop fusing into bigger fingers. He shakes his hands and smiles when everything’s normal again. “Yeah, I’ve seen like five years of the future, Stiles!”
Stiles’s mouth drops open and all he can think of is how pretty Stiles’s lips are and how much he just wants to touch them and kiss them and–
“Do we still have stuffed pizza crusts, Derek? There’s still Uber right? I don’t know how I’d survive without Uber, Derek!”
“There’s still Uber.”
“And stuffed pizza crusts?” Stiles asks hopefully.
“ Duh, and even if there weren’t, I’d make them for you. Those are supposed to be better for you anyways.”
Stiles gives him a shy smile. “You would?”
“Duh.”
“Hey, Derek?”
“Yeah?”
“Happy birthday.”
–
2:45 AM
“Wait, how do we adopt a baby?”
Derek thinks about it for a second. “I think we go to the baby store?”
“But it’s nighttime!” Stiles cries. “It’s probably closed now!”
Derek pats him on the head. “It’s okay. We’ll go first thing in the morning. That way, we’ll beat the – hic – crowd and get the best one.”
“You’re a genius.”
–
1:20 AM
“Okay, you’re cut off,” someone who looks oddly like Scott says, taking Derek’s drink away.
“You can’t do that! My mom said never to waste food or drinks and I still have so much left!” Derek argues. “Also, tell your Scott #2 to stop. When did we get two of you anyways?”
“Yeah, bro, you can’t waste alcohol,” Stiles says wisely. He tries to reach out for the drink but Scott #1 – the rude one – does something with magic and suddenly, the red cup is gone.
“Woah, when did Scott #1 learn magic?” Derek whispers to Stiles.
“I think Scott #2 taught him.”
“True. Okay, Scott #2 can stay,” Derek declares. “I’m the birthday boy and what I say goes.”
“Huzzah!” Stiles crows.
“Yeah, you’re cut off too,” Scott #1 says and takes Stiles’s cup away but Stiles doesn’t even care. In fact, he smiles happily at Scott #1 and then winks at Derek.
Derek grins dopily and elsewhere, Scott #1 and Scott #2 facepalm.
–
2:05 AM
“You’re my bestest friend, Stiles.” Derek says. “I wish – hic – I wish we could just be one, y’know?”
“Like one person? Dude, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. That’s too much awesome in one person. The world isn’t ready for that.”
Derek nods wisely. “You’re right. Okay, we can be two people. But we should like be one unit. Like a furniture unit. Oh, oh, like a bookcase! You’re the shelf and I’m the, um, like the case without any shelves. So we’re both kinda useless but when you put me and you together, we can be a bookcase!”
Stiles claps his hands. “I’d love to be bookshelves with you! But, like who can we get to be the books?”
Derek thinks about that for a second, before snapping his fingers. “Babies!”
“Babies are books?”
“Yeah, like we can get a bunch of babies and they can be the books on our bookcase and all together we’d be the prettiest bookcase in the world!”
Stiles nods with a big smile on his face. “Yes, and we should be the classy bookcase. Like not some shitty Ikea Billy case. We should be an elegant, hand-crafted mahogany bookcase.”
“ Yes! ” Derek agrees. “Wait, but we don’t have girl parts. How can we have books without girl parts?”
Stiles gasps loudly, jumping in his spot. “We should adopt the books!”
“Yeah?”
“Dude, admit it! We’d be great parents!”
–
The next afternoon, 2:33 PM
Derek opens his eyes for less than a second before he shuts them, yanking the blanket over his head and curling up in a fetal position. Too much brightness, too much sun, too much everything. Jesus Christ, what the hell did he do last night?
He lays in bed for a solid twenty minutes, trying to get his head to stop feeling like it wants to melt into a puddle, before pushing the blanket off and slowly opening his eyes.
“Did I drink my entire apartment last night?” he asks, not expecting anyone to answer.
Which is why he jumps when he hears Laura snicker and say, “Um, yeah. Also, Stiles is here.”
At that, Derek immediately sits up, heart thudding so loudly he’s sure Laura can hear. “Stiles is here?”
“Stiles is here.”
“Why?!”
Laura raises a brow at him and motions to the living room. “I think you should see for yourself. You should probably put some pants on first though.”
Derek frowns, but does as she says, hands shaking the whole time. He tries to think of what happened the night before but comes up short. Truthfully, he doesn’t even know how he ended up in bed. All he can remember is being out on the balcony with Stiles and drinking. A lot.
He doesn’t know what he’s expecting when he gets to the living room but he can honestly say that a black husky puppy with a red and silver bow around his neck, jumping up at the sight of Derek isn’t it. The puppy runs straight to Derek, tumbling into his legs, hopping onto its back feet and reaching up.
“What the–,” Derek asks, leaning down to pick up the puppy, checking to see if it’s a girl or boy. It’s then that he notices Stiles standing in the corner, biting his lips with nervousness. “Stiles, why is there a dog?”
Laura snorts. “Um, as much as I’d love to watch this happen, I’ll give you two sometime.” She winks at him before whisking off into her room. Stiles clears his throat, fingers fidgeting and looking oddly out of place in an apartment he should be very comfortable with.
Derek looks between the puppy and Stiles, still stunned.
The silence stretches over for too long before Derek finally clears his throat. “So, the puppy is for…?”
“That’s Leia,” Stiles squeaks. Derek frowns, because that name sounds weirdly famil–
“Oh my god,” he groans, squeezing his eyes shut from the embarrassment as the memories from last night flood his brain.
“I–you–the baby store was closed today but I remembered Deaton had the puppy and she always reminded me of you whenever I saw her and I went this morning after to see if she was still there because then it would be a sign, y’know, from like the universe. And she was! She was there and Deaton was there and I was there and all I could think of was you and what we talked about last night and it just made sense. Oh, happy birthday, by the way,” Stiles rambles, eyes widening in horror at the word vomit.
Something like hope flutters in Derek’s chest. “So you got me…Leia?”
“I-I don’t think we’re ready for Luke or Natalia, but oh Jesus, I really didn’t think this through, did I?” Stiles trails off, looking mortified. Derek smiles slightly, clutching Leia tighter to himself.
“We?” Derek asks, just to be a little shit, but his smile grows bigger when Stiles flushes. “I don’t remember being asked to be a ‘we’.”
Stiles narrows his eyes at him. “Today’s Christmas, asshole. You can’t just read between the lines and save me the embarrassment?”
Derek smirks. “It’s my birthday first. I can do whatever I want.”
Stiles snorts, shuffling his feet adorably. He peers at Derek, giving him a thoughtful look. “Technically, you already asked me to be a bookcase with you remember?”
Derek looks at him, bemused, before it clicks and he flushes. “Oh fuck off.”
Stiles gasps, covering Leia’s tiny ears. “Language, Derek! We have highly impressionable minds here!”
“I hate you.”
“Liar, liar,” Stiles sings.
“For the record, I don’t want to be bro-parents with you,” Derek murmurs, staring intently into Stiles’s eyes.
“That’s cool. I don’t either,” Stiles whispers, all shy and cute. He scratches Leia behind the ear, making her yip happily. Derek leans closer to Stiles, shifting just slightly so Leia doesn’t get smushed between them. “I guess I’ll settle for being real parents with you someday.”
“I’m sorry it took me so long,” Stiles admits sheepishly. “I guess I never really let myself hope that I could have you. It was just easier to keep looking elsewhere; it hurts less when someone you’re not really into rejects you.”
Derek looks down at Leia, heart full of warmth and happiness. “I’m glad you tried one more time. I have a feeling it’ll be the last time you’ll have to.”
They grin at each other and Derek finally feels it; that sense of completeness that he’s been aching for.
“Happy birthday, Derek.”
“Merry Christmas, Stiles.”
Tag: getting together
Physical Therapy
Summary: Stiles gets hurt, and discovers that Derek has some
special skills.Notes: AU where nothing bad happens after the nogitsune, and
everyone is alive. Set during Stiles’ senior year, he’s 18. (On AO3)
“My elbow is killing me,” Stiles groans from the living room.
“You been jerking it too much?” Scott asks, the leer obvious
in his voice.Derek, grabbing snacks in the kitchen, really wishes he
wasn’t hearing this conversation.“Dude, no,” Stiles huffs. “I was tenderizing a lot of
chicken last night.”Scott laughs. “Isn’t that what I just said?”
A Matching Pair
Inspired by this post.
For Z, thank you.
First time is an accident;
“Dude, really?” Stiles growled,
glaring across the table at his best friend who took a step back defensively.“I’m just saying, it’s
apparently a thing that every gay guy wears a Henley,” Scott replied.“You’re just saying that because
I was wearing one the day I told you I was bi and now I’m wearing them regularly—like
I am today—because they’re comfortable,” Stiles objected.The conversation dropped off as
the others stepped into the loft; Erica scolding Isaac for spilling something
on her shirt while Boyd offered her a change of clothes and quietly reassured
her that it wouldn’t stain.Derek trailed behind them,
shaking his head as he quietly sauntered over to the desk.Scott froze, his eyes flying
open wide as he looked at the alpha, or—more specifically—at what Derek wore: a
soft grey Henley that hugged his firm body. The top few buttons were left
hanging open, revealing the patch of olive skin that covered his collarbone.Scott turned to look at Stiles,
his jaw hanging open as he tried to subtly gesture at the man.Stiles rolled his eyes and shook
his head.Derek stepped over to their
side, setting down the stack of old books Deaton had given them to research the
latest supernatural threat. He paused for a moment, his eyes fixed on Stiles.
He tilted his head slightly, curiously as he looked the teen over.“It’s unintentional,” Stiles
said, guessing Derek’s thoughts.“It’s a good look on you,” Derek
replied.“Thank you,” Stiles replied,
smiling at Derek before turning to glare at his friend.
*incoherent screaming* You opened prompts! Sterek: Not yet together sterek. The idea is a bath and Stiles how did you get that there?!? Thank you.
Taking Sterek Prompts | Filling Prompts Live
———
“Are you going to get in?” Stiles asked, peeling out of his last shirt, his words a little slurry around the edges. “In a- a- a-” He paused, trying rather unsuccessfully to shake his hand free of his sleeve. He started laughing uncontrollably and collapsed to the floor to work on his shoes. “The water, are you?”
“No,” Derek groused, pointedly not looking when Stiles flopped onto his back and began to shimmy out of his soaked pants. Black slime coated almost every square inch of the floor. “This is your bath, not mine.”
“Mine,” Stiles echoed, now just lying on the floor in a puddle of black, his pale skin coated head to foot in the gunk. “This is not my house.”
“Yes,” Derek agreed, as patiently as he could, checking the water’s temperature before turning off the tap. It had to be extra hot to affect the stuff. “This is the clinic.”
Deaton had explained that even minimal contact with the ichorous substance gave a contact high. Stiles had been practically drenched in the stuff when they had killed it. Luckily it was not deadly or even toxic- which was the problem. Someone had been keeping the creature as a pet, drawing out the fluid and selling it, and it had escaped three days ago to wreak havoc.
Very, very unfortunately, Derek had drawn the short straw for ensuring Stiles got cleaned up and came down from the high safely. Isaac, Boyd, and Erica were taking care of disposal of the body while Scott and Allison swung by Allison’s house to return weapons and report to her father. Deaton had been kind enough – or perhaps had enough self preservation – to give Derek the key to the clinic so he could get Stiles washed up away from his father’s questions.
“Come on,” Derek said gently, slipping from the edge of the tub to crouch at Stiles’ side. It was, he reflected, a very good thing that werewolves were not susceptible to the substance’s effects. “You gotta get cleaned up.” The effects wouldn’t wear off until every drop of the ichor was gone.
Stiles lifted his head, looking all the way down his lean form. “Oh, no, no that’s too far,” he told Derek, head falling back with an audible clunk he was probably going to feel in a few hours. “Wow, this is the best floor ever. Do you think I could take it home with me?”
“No,” Derek said with a sigh. Looked like this was going to have to be the hard way. He shifted, kneeling beside Stiles, and grabbed at his wrists to haul him up.
Despite that they slipped and slid a bit, Derek managed to get a very naked Stiles upright and across the three feet to the tub. For a second Stiles stood very still, holding tightly onto the edge of it like he was going to resist going in. Then he tipped forward and faceplanted directly into the basin so quickly Derek had to scramble to keep him from drowning.
“Hoooooo!!!!” Stiles shouted the second his mouth was above the surface, water sluicing away the ichor clinging to his skin. “It’s hot, Derek! This is really hot, why is it so hot? Oh my god, I’m melting!” He started grabbing at the black liquid coming off his skin.
Closing his eyes, Derek counted to three. Then five. Then ten, for good measure, and when he opened them again, Stiles had fallen very, very still and was staring wide eyed into the middle distance. It was not exactly an improvement, but at least he’d stopped thrashing, slopping water and ichor all over the floor and flinging it onto the walls and- and was that- on the ceiling?
“Stiles, how did you- you know what, nevermind,” Derek grumbled, reaching for the spray nozzle.
This setup was supposed to be for cleaning dogs, but it would work just as well for ornery, tripping humans. He began to run the spray over Stiles’ hair, watching the black give way to brown. When the tub had filled completely, Derek pulled the plug and let it drain. Diluted like this with water, it wouldn’t hurt the general populace; at worst, they’d all have a really good day soon.
Stiles’ eyes slid closed, and he relaxed into the gentle touches Derek used to turn him this way and that, to get at the last of the ichor still clinging to strange places like inside of his ears and between his fingers and- well, at least Stiles was unlikely to remember any of this very well tomorrow.
By the time he had gotten the last of it, Stiles had turned to putty in his hands, making a soft, pleasant humming noise that might have been purring on a cat. Derek swallowed hard, trying to keep it together. He still needed to get Stiles someplace to wait out the high, and get this place cleaned up so no one else would be affected.
Difficult to think of anything beyond the way Stiles pressed himself into Derek’s touches. “Feels good,” Stiles murmured, unwilling or unable to keep his eyes open. “You should touch me more.”
“Tomorrow,” Derek mumbled back, prodding Stiles to his feet. The floor was still covered in ichor, so Derek just leaned over and scooped a completely unresisting Stiles into his arms. Immediately, Stiles looped his own arms around Derek’s neck and burrowed his nose against Derek’s shoulder. “If you still want me to touch you tomorrow, I will.”
“Okay,” Stiles agreed muzzily.
He wouldn’t remember. No one else had. Still…
He allowed himself a small smile, and a measure of hope. Stiles had never been one for following the rules, after all.
@welshwoman1988 prompted for what happens after the slime wears off… so here is the answer!
———
Stiles stirred to the smell of breakfast heavy in the air, and knew almost immediately that he was not in his own room. He wasn’t even in an actual room, he was under too many blankets on Derek’s ridiculous bed, his face mashed into a pillow that was- not his own. He startled upright very suddenly, heart racing for a second against the huge blank in his memory.
“Hey, it’s okay,” came a gentle voice from behind him, and he scrabbled to turn around to see. Derek stood a couple of yards away, his hands both held up in a calming gesture. “It’s okay,” he repeated. “You’re safe. You got slimed by that thing.”
Stiles took a few choppy breaths, scraping at his memory. They had gone to fight the monster, found it at a park, up a tree. He remembered walking over to look up. He remembered Allison’s arrow, and seeing the thing pop like a balloon, and then-
And then nothing.
“I don’t remember,” he croaked, throat scratchy.
“I know,” Derek soothed, stepping closer and watching for a reaction. “Does anything feel weird? Hurt? Headache or anything?”
“No,” Stiles said, watching Derek right back as he took another step forward, almost to the edge of the bed. Stiles was suddenly very aware that although he was dressed, the clothing did not belong to him. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” Derek said, and Stiles didn’t have to be a werewolf to know that was a lie. “Nothing important,” Derek amended. “The others ditched you with me to get cleaned up at the clinic. You were… really high. And loud.”
“Oh,” Stiles said, not really sure what to make of that. “And I’m in scrubs because…”
Stiles watched in fascination as Derek’s cheeks and ears pinked, the color speckling at the lines of his neck. “You were completely covered in that stuff. Your clothes were ruined, and you needed a- a bath.”
“And you-”
For just a split second, Stiles thought he remembered the sensation of warm, broad hands smoothing over his skin, slicking water from his hair, tipping his jaw, brushing along his-
“Yeah,” Derek interrupted, tense and hesitant. “You went catatonic after getting in the water. I thought if I just got it rinsed off…”
The low, contented noise Stiles had made with Derek practically petting him.
“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, voice a little shaky. Maybe more than just his voice.
The beat of Derek’s heart in his ear as he carried him out of the back room, carried him to the passenger seat of his camaro, carried him upstairs to the loft.
“Thank you,” was what came out of his mouth instead of all the questions he had. “It, uh… it worked. I’m… me, again. I think.”
The warmth of Derek’s body, inches away from his as he drifted in and out of restless sleep, the rasp of his soft breathing, the knowledge that he was safe.
Tomorrow.
Stiles shivered a little, looking up to meet Derek’s eyes as if he could find an answer there.
“You sound like you,” Derek told him, leaning on his leg against the side of the bed.
If you still want me to touch you tomorrow, I will.
The ichor had all been washed away by then. He remembered those words. He remembered the patience in Derek’s voice as he said them, and the resignation. He remembered his last, desperate thoughts, the ones unable to claw past his lips, being how much he wanted to reassure Derek.
“I am,” he said, as firmly as he could, and it seemed to work, because Derek smiled softly. “I’m back to normal.”
“That’s relative,” Derek said with a small smirk, and it felt so familiar and alien, the way Derek teased him. “I made breakfast, if you’re hungry.”
Derek turned away again, toward the kitchen, and Stiles moved like he’d been pulled on puppet strings, sitting on the edge of the bed before he registered the decision to follow at all.
“Derek,” Stiles called.
Derek froze, tension written in every line of his body, and Stiles could barely hear anything over the thundering of his heart. This was happening. Derek didn’t answer, but he didn’t move away, either.
“I- I do remember something,” Stiles admitted hesitantly. “I remember that I… I asked you… to touch me. More.”
“You weren’t in your right mind,” Derek told him, an easy out. Stiles might have taken it as a rejection if it hadn’t sounded like it broke Derek to say.
“I am, now.” This had to have been the gentlest argument they’d ever had. Derek turned to look, and Stiles looked right back, unwavering. “And it’s tomorrow.”
“Stiles…” Soft, barely there. Another argument.
“Please,” Stiles asked. “You said you would, if I still wanted you to. I do.”
Derek stared at him for a long few moments, looking torn, before finally taking a step forward, and another, and another, and then he was standing in right in front of Stiles again, their knees just inches apart. Stiles could feel his own heart thrumming in his fingertips, in his throat, in his lips, and he was sure Derek could hear it even louder.
“Please,” Stiles repeated. “Touch me.”
With a small sound of surrender, Derek did, palms warm on Stiles’ jaw, leaning down to rest his forehead against Stiles’. They stayed like that for one breath, two, and then Stiles shifted just slightly, just enough to tip his chin up, just enough to touch his lips to Derek’s. Eyes closed, breath stalled, he stayed like that a moment longer, Derek’s thumb brushing over his cheek.
Then he pulled back a little, opening his eyes. “Okay,” he breathed.
“Okay?” Derek echoed uncertainly.
“Yeah,” Stiles said, putting himself very much into Derek’s space as he got to his feet. “We’re going to have breakfast now.”
“We are?” Derek asked, sounding confused and a little hurt now.
“Yeah,” Stiles said again, grabbing Derek’s shirt before he could back away. “Then you’re going to touch me again. And again. And again. And-”
And Derek closed the distance between them, kissing him again just to shut him up. Stiles just grinned, and kissed him back this time.
i trust you
happy birthday to my beautiful and wonderful friend, savannah (@halesstiles)!! i’m sorry i’m a little late babe. hope you like this
synopsis; 5 times Stiles tells Derek he trusts him + 1 time Derek tells Stiles.
ONE
Derek grunted, pulling the succubus off of Stiles in a quick, precise motion, his claws sinking into the flesh. He flung his arm to the side, panting slightly at the surprising amount of effort that he required before swiftly pulling Stiles to his feet.
“Alright?” His breath came out unevenly. He tried not to stare as he took in Stiles’ form. His shirt was tattered, showing bruises where the succubus had gripped him harder than he thought. The bruises followed the curve up Stiles’ neck, new ones beginning to show up slowly but surely. Derek sucked in a sharp breath when he saw a bite at the edge of Stiles’ jaw.
Stiles furrowed his brow, glancing over Derek’s shoulder towards the rest of his packmates, taking care of the succubus. His body stiffened as Stiles moved to wrap his hands around himself, pushing his shoulder back, and breathing in deeply. His eyes flitted over to meet Derek’s as he muttered, “Barely.”
Derek nodded, “That was a close one.” He moved to put his hand behind Stiles, ready to lead him towards the Camaro, before stopping. Noticing Stiles’ shivering form, he removed his own shirt. He offered it to Stiles. His eyes flushed as their fingers brushed, Stiles’ face already forming a smirk at his response. He glared without any heat.
Once again, his hand found itself lingering behind Stiles’ back, ready to lead him to the Camaro, but faltering when he realized that Stiles might not want to be touched after something so violating like that. He swallowed a lump in his throat; he wanted to comfort Stiles—if only he knew how.
There was a small pressure against his hand until all that he could feel was the soft cotton of his own shirt. His fingers sunk into the material, only the soft cloth forming the barrier between them. Derek’s eyes snapped to meet Stiles’ brown ones, a confused whine sneaking out of his mouth before he could stop himself.
Stiles shook his head. He moved his hands up, one resting on Derek’s shoulder as the other caressed his cheek. “It’s alright.”
“I don’t—I mean—I don’t understand …” Derek stumbled over his words, distracted as Stiles rubbed his thumb on his shoulder.
Stiles smiled. “I trust you.”
I have a prompt if that’s ok? The whole pack incl Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Danny + Liam think that Derek and Stiles (who are bffs) are the perfect match for each other and try to set them up and they try to make Derek jealous by all flirting one by one with Stiles but nothing works so during a pack meeting Danny ups the ante and it works Just not on Derek, it works on Jackson who snaps and kisses Stiles and that’s when the pack realises they got it wrong, it’s Jackson that Stiles likes not Derek haha
Of course it’s okay, Nonny! Your prompt was really cute and I hope you like what I came up with for it! And I hope you’re still around to see the fic^^°
Beta-read by the wonderful @ohfuckthisshit, who also did some much needed cheerleading! Thank you ❤
Five times the pack tried to help Stiles’ love life and one time they did
Subtitled: Alpha knows best
Stackson, 4k, T, no warnings apply
1. Erica
Erica realises it first: Stiles and Derek are totally in luuuurve.
They have been spending a lot of time together lately; most of the time, Stiles is already at Derek’s when the rest of the pack arrives for pack meetings or movie nights and the like. Their scents have even started to mix! At first Erica thought that they were keeping it quiet, being secretive while the relationship is still new, but eventually she comes to the conclusion that nothing is going on, that they are just that oblivious.
Boys!
It’s obvious that they need help. And Erica knows exactly what to do – a healthy dose of jealousy has revealed many a secret affection yet.
So for the next pack meeting she chooses one of her lowest cut shirts, the shortest skirt, and her favourite red lipstick. Dressed to kill, she makes sure to bend over a lot in Stiles’ vicinity, cuddles up close to him on the couch, and sucks seductively on her straw. Stiles reacts appropriately for the most part, blushing at her antics, staring at her breasts for an ego-boosting, but not creepy amount of time, and flirting back slightly awkwardly.
But Derek doesn’t really react satisfyingly – he perhaps rolls his eyes a little more than usual, but even now, with Beacon Hills safe and at peace and no danger looming on the horizon, his basic setting is ‘grump’, so there’s no telling whether Erica’s flirting makes him grumpier than usual. The only suspicious behaviour comes from Jackson, who suddenly develops a hacking cough that night. In fact, Stiles might have spent more time asking Jackson whether he’s alright than flirting with Erica.
To add insult to injury, Stiles takes her aside after the meeting to ask whether everything is alright with her and Boyd. And then he hugs her and reassures her that while he appreciates her body, and fuck anybody who doesn’t, he loves her mind and soul, and that there’s no need to use her body as a weapon among the pack. It’s all terribly sweet, and yes, there might be tears and a few more hugs involved.
All in all, Operation: Red Wolf, Trial 1 is an all around fail.
Ooh! If you’re still taking Teen Wolf prompts how about either Stiles/Derek or Stiles/Derek/Scott – must share a motel room with only one bed. The floor is disgusting and there’s no cots or couches.
This prompt totally inspired me. I hope you enjoy this, honey!
Sanctuary. Derek/Stiles. Adult.
The drive from Beacon Hills to San Francisco seems to be taking even longer than usual today. Derek is driving, so that means Stiles can’t fiddle with the radio or play anything off his phone to pass the time. There’s some station playing old rock that always seems to accompany movie soundtracks and television commercials. It reminds him of his mom, singing along to the music of her youth as she baked, twirling him around until he was a giggling dizzy mess with the faster tunes. The memories make him smile, and there’s only a little sadness thinking about the past. It does make him quieter, though, so Derek keeps looking at him and frowning.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going or just wait until we get there?” he finally asks after the fourteenth frown from Derek.
“I already told you. It’s a place where we should be able to get the information we need,” Derek says, as if that actually answered the question.
“That doesn’t tell me anything, you realize?” Stiles rolls his eyes when he notices Derek’s slight smile. “Of course you realize.”
I took a prompt from this list. Strangely, this ended up being decidedly smut-less, and more hurt/comfort than anything else. PLUS, it’s shockingly not the pairing I’ve been writing the most of lately.
“Hey, Derek?”
Derek looks up from his book, and over to where Stiles is curled up on the opposite end of the couch. “Yeah?”
“Can I ask you something?” Stiles’ voice is quiet, almost as if he doesn’t really want to speak.
“Sure.” Derek slips a receipt between the pages of his book to mark his place, and sets it aside. He turns towards Stiles, giving him his undivided attention.
Stiles’ fingers are toying with the seam of the closest throw pillow. He’s quiet long enough that Derek wrongly assumes he isn’t going to ask his question after all. “Do you think someone can be unloveable?”
Derek blinks in surprise. Of all the things that Stiles could ask him, this is decidedly not what Derek was expecting. He swallows back his initial response, asking instead, “Why do you ask?”
“No reason, really.” Stiles’ shoulders move in what looks like a shrug. “I just,” he sucks in a shaky breath, “it’s just something someone said.”
Ah.
“About you?”
Stiles lifts a hand to rub at his right eye, “Maybe?”
Derek takes a moment to think of how to answer. If someone has said something to Stiles to make him even consider the question, Derek is sure that it’s been bothering him. He himself has often felt that way, so he knows that simply brushing Stiles’ concern aside with platitudes will do more harm than good. “I think that there is someone for everyone. People love differently, and we just need to find that one person that just…gets us.”
Stiles’ brows lift, “Wow, that was decidedly poetic.”
Derek laughs, “Yeah, well,” he shrugs, ducking his head to hide the blush he can feel flooding his cheeks.
“Never thought I’d ever be talking to you, of all people, about this kind of stuff.”
The words sting a little; more than a little, if Derek is honest with himself. He gives Stiles a tight smile, “I guess I deserve that.”
“What?” Stiles blinks in confusion for a few seconds before he realizes what he just said. “No, that’s not what I meant! I just mean,” he drags a hand over his face, “god, I’m such a dick.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s really not.” Stiles waves his hand in the air, “What I meant was: we’ve never really been friends, and yet I feel completely at ease discussing this with you.”
“I don’t make friends easily.”
Stiles nods, “Yeah, me either. I’m a lot to take. Hell, I made it through four years of college with no real friends. If it wasn’t for your weekly pack Skype sessions, I think I would have spent the majority of the time in a drunken frat boy stupor.”
“You? A frat boy?”
“Hey! I could have been a frat boy, if I wanted to, fuck you very much.”
Derek smirks, “Of course you could have.”
Stiles makes a face at Derek, flipping him off in the process.
“You make it sound as if you never got out of your dorm room. I know for a fact that’s not true.”
“Aforementioned frat parties don’t count.” Stiles yawns, “late night hook-ups in dark hallways aren’t nearly as fulfilling as all that.”
“You had more than that though. What about that blonde from freshman year?”
“Blaise?” At Derek’s nod, Stiles waves a dismissive hand, “she only dated me to make her ex jealous.”
“Really?” Derek shakes his head, “that’s a shitty thing to do.”
Stiles laughs softly.
Derek frowns, “What?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you cuss before.” The look Derek levels on Stiles, only serves to make him laugh more, “it’s cute how you think you can intimidate me after all these years.”
“I am not cute.”
Stiles grins, “I never said you were.”
They spend one night together – a near decade-long dance of simmering, mildly violent flirtation finally sparking after a late night of research and whiskey, wolfsbane-laced for Derek, of course. The sex is intense and focused and the orgasms are multiple and mind-blowing, and afterwards they fall in a sweaty, come-slick heap onto Derek’s bed, both of them asleep almost instantly, limbs tangled. They wake in tandem a few hours later and, wordlessly, make love again, slow and sleepy, bodies woven effortlessly together, mouths swollen with kisses and unspoken declarations.
Stiles has to work early the next morning and they say goodbye at Derek’s door in the dawning light and kiss each other chastely and then they never speak of it because even though their bodies could tell each other how much they love one another, their words still fail and their fears still shackle.
A month goes by and then another, and there are more research nights where Stiles is always sure to leave at the same time as the others, and there are pack meetings and movie nights and a barbecue at the sheriff’s station, and they go along as if nothing happened.
And then one night Stiles is lying in bed, the insomnia pills he been prescribed no longer working, the weed not helping either, and it dawns on him that the best night’s sleep he’s had in years was in Derek’s bed, in Derek’s arms, and he wants nothing more than to sleep next to his sourwolf again.
And so the next time they all meet at the loft to research, he lingers when everyone else leaves, and awkwardly asks Derek if they can sleep together again.
“Sure,” Derek says, something akin to reluctance in his voice, and then, rushed, “but honestly Stiles if this is just about sex for you I don’t think I can – “
“Sex?” Stiles interrupts, thoughts and heart racing. “I just wanted to sleep in your bed…maybe cuddle…I think sleeping next to you helped me actually sleep, you know…wait, what do you mean, you don’t think you can if it’s just sex?”
And that’s when Stiles learns that Derek is utterly adorable when he blushes, when his eyes go extra-big and round. Stiles can see that he’s struggling to find the words and then he lets his body to the talking once again and he takes three long strides and kisses the frustration from Derek’s mouth, cradles his jaw and buries his fingers in his beard, downright unruly these days, speckled here and there with gray. They kiss until they’re both breathless, and when their mouths separate their foreheads fall together, and Derek’s eyes are the most beautiful they’ve ever been, greens and golds Stiles doesn’t even have words for but he knows he’s going to spend the rest of his life trying to find them.
Derek speaks softly, thumbs stroking Stiles’ cheeks. “I mean that I want you sleeping next to me every night, sex or no sex, for as long as you’ll have me.”
Stiles smiles and kisses him, and they find their way to the bed again, and again the night after that, and the next one, and every night after that, forever and ever.
shealwaysreads 