“Coffee’s good. I like coffee,” Stiles says cautiously. Obviously it’s a wrong number, but this is an interesting conversation.
There’s a long pause, and then: “You’re not Erica.”
Stiles can’t help it. He snorts. “Yeah, no, dude, that’d be pretty difficult since I’m a guy.”
“Right. Uh. Sorry, wrong number—” Mystery Caller starts to say, sounding gruffly embarrassed, but Stiles is distracted by the fact that a redhead in dangerously high heels has just burst into the bathroom, head down as she digs through her purse.
Stiles straightens, gaping, and the movement apparently catches her eye. Her head snaps up, and she gasps a startled “Oh!” followed by an indignant, “The hell are you doing in here?”
“What does it look like I’m doing? And what do you mean, what am I doing? What are you doing—” Stiles starts to say.
She gestures expansively. “This is the ladies’ room!”
Apparently Mystery Caller can hear her through the line, because he makes a noise in Stiles’ ear that’s somewhere between a cough and a laugh.
It’s my Birthday tomorrow and like last year I’ve decided to celebrate it with Sterek crack
Tags: High school AU,
teen!Derek, human!Stiles (for now), Humor, crack, fluff, getting together,
everyone is some kind of were-creature, dragon!stiles.
Summary: Even though Talia
Hale’s first and foremost plan on moving to Beacon Hills was to “Clean up the
Hale image”, Derek was far too contented with his “Scaring the shit out of
Stiles” plan. Just – he didn’t know Stiles was already of age and maybe
transforming into something pretty bad-ass any day.
Stiles’ ears perked
up on hearing a sudden rustling of dry leaves from somewhere above.
“Hey, anyone out
there?” He quickly shot up from his lying position from where he’d been
sprawled flat on the dirty, comfy bed of the forest floor, stumbling over his
own feet. “I fell in the hole,” he mumbled, weak and disappointed, as the
noises stopped. He wiped away the beads of sweat from his forehead with a quick
drag of his shirt sleeve, feeling the heat striking him hard.
Stiles had turned
sixteen a month before and his body was all set to welcome the restructuring of
his entire biology, the incarnation of his true genes which were buried deep
inside in the core of his bones, flesh and blood. He’d already started feeling
the change as his appetite suddenly became ten times larger than usual, which
was saying something because Stiles loved food. His sleep became more
conscious as his senses developed. At odd hours of a day he felt a quick rise
in his body temperature, like a fever, an internal furnace.
To burn off the
overwhelming energy he’d been running around the forest after school for a few
days now. He knew he was going to transform pretty soon into a were-something.
He just wished that day could be today.
He stretched his
neck, standing on the tips of his toes, hoping to get a better view of the
world outside. He’d started muttering to himself when no one had replied,
enjoying the way his voice reverberated through the quiet surroundings.
“If you can still
hear me, any help would be truly appreci- baah!” he screeched, toppling
over a tree root near his feet, landing on his ass.
A big furry black
head had suddenly peeked over into the hole.
“Jesus Christ! You
just gave me a heart attack,” he huffed out, clutching his thumping heart. He
watched as the stranger’s head tilted a little, staring back at Stiles with its
pale, weird green eyes, cocking one thick, judgemental eyebrow.
“Hey buddy, have ya
came to my rescue,” Stiles cooed at the huge – giant dog, sounding pathetically
hopeful. He wrinkled his nose trying to figure out its earthy, musky, very
non-doglike scent. “Go fetch your owner and get me out of here. Go Tommy
go.”
“Beacon Hills Crisis Center. This is Stiles. How can I help you?”
No one answered; a shuddering breath skittered across the line.
“Hello?” Stiles frowned, mashing the volume button with his thumb. It was already maxed out. “Hello?”
He definitely heard breathing that time, a sharp, sudden inhale. Whoever it was still wasn’t saying anything and Stiles ground annoyance between his teeth.
“Look, if this is Mr. Stankowski, you are still not permitted within two hundred yard of a school for good reason. I’m not explaining that again because, seriously, I’m right in your preference range and it freaks me out.”
A beat passed, then another. “This was such a bad idea.”
Stiles jolted upright, knocking his knee into the desk and hissing at the pain now radiating in his kneecap. That voice – gruff, masculine, nearly a growl – was sure as shit not the neighborhood pedophile.
When Captain John Stilinski retires from the force, his next in line Chris Argent takes his place. Argent’s first order of business- assign Detective Stiles Stilinski a partner to assist him on his cases. Stiles has been tracking the distribution of a deadly new drug called Wolfsbane that is sweeping through the campus of the local high school. Stiles emphatically does not want a partner, especially not Derek Hale, a new addition to the BHPD fresh from the NYPD. However, as the two detectives get closer to solving the case, they also grow closer to each other, a move that has the potential to save the day or tear them apart.
After Stiles’ mom passed, the only solace he found was on the road trips he took with his best friend Derek. His favorite time was in the fall when the trees looked like they were on fire and the sunrise looked like gold. And Derek loved it because the nights got colder and Stiles always slept closer, on those nights he’d wrap his arms around him and stay awake listening to him breath.
But after awhile, the feelings they were both avoiding became too heavy, until Derek made it clear just how much he loved Stiles with a heated kiss. The rest of the road trip (and all the ones after) was spent with entire days in bed, hand holding through towns they stayed at, and long nights tangled together in the sheets.
Stiles has never put much stock in online dating. He’s an avid watcher of Catfish, okay? He trusts no one to be who they say they are – particularly people like ‘Derek’, who look like they should be modelling underwear, not working for his sister’s tech company. Nobody that hot could ever initiate contact with Stiles – not unless he’s actually a basement-dwelling fedora-toting psychopath.
But.
But Derek’s never asked for money – in fact, he’s hinted on more than one occasion that money isn’t an issue at all: he frequently texts Stiles photos of all sorts of fancy foods from various restaurants around L.A., often accompanied by disgruntlement at his sister ditching and leaving Derek to entertain her clients.
Stiles has to be off his game, because all of the reverse-image searches of Derek’s photographs have just directed straight back to the Facebook page Derek gave him – there are several profiles that look obviously fake, too, under a few different names, but none of them look as legitimate as Derek’s.
They’ve spoken on the phone, but Stiles isn’t an idiot – for all he knows, Derek could be a seventy year old who just sounds young. The thing that’s ringing alarm bells in his head is any time Stiles has suggested Skype, Derek’s wriggled out of it, and any time they’ve tried to organise meeting up, something’s come up in Derek’s life.
Stiles wants to believe. Stiles is Fox Mulder and Derek might as well be an alien life form for how badly he wants to believe.
Stiles
doesn’t want to be dramatic, but he’s destined to die alone.
First
there was Lydia. Okay, that may be an exaggeration, seeing as he
never actually dated
Lydia
That
doesn’t mean he didn’t love her though, because he did, and
that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt when he finally accepted the fact
that they were never going to be together, because it ached in
the worst possible way. (He
ate his way through an entire tray of cupcakes the day she told him
she really did love Jackson
Whittemore, he’s still not entirely over it.)
Then
of course there’s Heather, and okay maybe he wasn’t infatuated with
her like he was with Lydia. The thing is, he’d known Heather since
they were kids and they’d always been friends, so when they finally
started dating once he was eighteen, he’d figured this was it. They
were going to be together forever. He’s
always been a long term planner. He’s always committed himself
one-hundred percent to the people he cares about. One-hundred
percent.
So
two months in when Heather told him she thought things were moving
too fast and she that wanted to take a break, he was understandably a
teensy bit crushed. (He may of eaten an entire chocolate bundt cake
to himself in one afternoon.)
And
now finally there was Danny.
Fuck.
He
scrubs a hand over his face in frustration.
Danny
was the first guy he’d ever dated. The first proper relationship
he’d ever had. They’d been together pretty much all the way through
college. Their relationship built on the strongest of foundations, a
shared love of video games, sarcasm and Ryan Gosling. Hell, they’d
been talking about moving in together. Stiles had been happy.
He
thought Danny had been too.
Apparently
not.
Apparently
Stiles isn’t the one.
Is
there even a one? Stiles is beginning to doubt that. It’s probably
just a lie promoted by Hollywood and greetings card companies.
‘Starts where 3B stops, with Kate attacking Derek in the loft. She kidnaps him to Mexico, and Stiles, Scott, and Lydia rush to find him before Kate can inflict too much damage. She inflicts enough, and Derek retreats into his mind to escape the horrors of his situation. The Derek they find is not the one that left Beacon Hills.’
This is truly an incredible fic. It’s written like poetry and never disappoints. Read it!
shealwaysreads 