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undercoverbastard · 8 months

Text

Judging a Derek by His Cover

“Seriously? You have to ask?” Stiles asked, in a bit of a disbelieving tone. “I mean I-... have you seen you? Resisting you sounds impossible, Derek, I mean seriously. I don’t think anyone in their right mind would tell you no if you gave them even a second look that’s- that’s impossible, you’re-”

Derek had already begun to tune out, a sick feeling crawling from the pit of his stomach upwards. He had grabbed for his shoes, fumbling slightly as he slid them on, in the middle of Stiles’ rambling. Before the other could continue, Derek waved away the rest with a nod.

“Right, right - you’re not… blind,” Derek interrupted. Stiles seemed a bit stunned at the overly neutral tone. Moving past Stiles without looking him properly in the eye, Derek mumbled about needing to get ready. Stiles attempted to stop him, his voice going low once the door opened, but it was of no use.

+.+.+

OR: a fic from the vaults, inspired by modern-day royalty au, derek’s penchant for being sought after just for his looks, and im not sure what else was going on in my brain at the time tbh

Word Count: 4387

———

“I have to get ready,” Derek said, pushing himself up and out of the bed. He sighed, sitting on the edge, staring at his hands a bit blankly. He wished he could freeze time - stay in moments like these. These moments are stolen in between chores and tasks, family and staff. He didn’t want to have to leave.

“Oh?” Stiles asked, stretching out lazily, tucking his hands behind his head. “What’s on the agenda today, sir prince?”

The tone was teasing but it made Derek cringe. Another reminder. He didn’t hate his position or his family or his people or any of it - he loved Beacon and his family was amazing and he adored being able to be a part of what made all of it. But, his position - his title - came with limitations. Expectations.

“Some gathering,” Derek mumbled, ducking his head a bit lower, “my mom says it’s in celebration of the peace treaties - ten years this week. But…”

“But…?” Stiles prompted, moving to curl behind Derek, his chin resting on a pillow as he gazed up at the other’s face. Derek cut his eyes to the side, letting the slightest of smiles curve across his lips before it fell off again. That was another one of Stiles’ talents - his ability to make Derek laugh and smile, no matter the day or its events.

“But,” Derek gathered a deep breath, “she’s been hinting at… socializing, at dating. She keeps bringing up names and countries and heirs and… I don’t know. She keeps mentioning Braeden and just…”

Stiles moved away, crawling up to a sitting position himself. Derek cast a look back at the other, waiting for some sort of response. It took a minute, Stiles facing away from him and seemingly fiddling with his shirt and hair. When he turned back he had a wide grin, cheeky and teasing.

“Oh you’ll do fine, Der, who could ever resist you? Huh?” Stiles said, giving him a nod of appreciation. It made Derek’s throat dry up, a reminder creeping in.

“Resist me…” Derek repeated a bit dumbly, staring now to the side of Stiles’ head, looking unseeingly out the window on the opposite side of the room. He heard Stiles give a huff of laughter, saw the shaking of his head from his peripheral.

“Obviously,” Stiles scoffed, “they’d have to be blind!” And that’s when Derek’s blood ran a bit cold, color draining from his face ever so slightly. “Anyways, I should - uh- get going. Let you get ready for the party and all that.”

Stiles stood up, fingers carding through his hair before tugging at and smoothing down his shirt. They’d laid lazily in the spare room for hours, taking turns carding fingers through one another’s hair, biting lingering kisses into one another’s lips, straddling each other’s laps as they got lost in the quietness disturbed only by soft groans and gasps. It had been bliss, those couple hours together. It was one of the only times Derek didn’t feel like he was on display or out of place to some degree. It felt right. Comfortable.

Staying quiet, Derek watched as Stiles stood up, slipping his shoes back on and fretting over his clothes again. He was always busy, mind and body in constant motion even if it didn’t make sense. It used to infuriate Derek when Stiles first began working in the library - he could never focus with the other’s mumbles and murmurs and humming and moving. It was chaotic in the smallest of ways. Now, though, he felt restless if Stiles didn’t move - his skin felt prickled if the younger man stayed still too long, a wrongness about it.

Before Stiles could open the door and sneak a look outside before he darted out, Derek asked, “Why didn’t you?”

Stiles paused, looking at the other in confusion and a half tilt of his head. “Why… why didn’t you resist me or - turn me down? Why?” Derek elaborated. His voice held steady and sounded normal but his heart was lodged in his throat and the tips of his fingers felt numb.

The question at least gave Stiles pause. He stepped back closer in the room, an incredulous look on his face once his mind seemed to catch up. He began waving, hands exaggeratedly emphasizing the length of Derek’s form still sitting on the bed before he gave an answering huff.

“Right, right - you’re not… blind,” Derek interrupted. Stiles seemed a bit stunned at the overly neutral tone. Derek always spoke in an even manner, known for being a bit brasher in his tone than others but fairly neutral and even overall - it was a mark of the Hale family, after all. To be balanced in all ways. He couldn’t risk being too nice or too rude. He may toe the line of overly curt and brash but he was never outright cold with his words. But even he could hear it - the change in his voice. It was exceptionally vague - not a hint of brashness. He was as even as his mother in her political discussions - unreadable.

Moving past Stiles without looking him properly in the eye, Derek mumbled about needing to get ready. Stiles attempted to stop him, his voice going low once the door opened, but it was of no use. Even the soft touch to Derek’s shoulder as he stepped out slid off with just a single step, allowing the steadily growing wall between them to commence.

Derek tried not to think about it. Shoved the thoughts out of his mind as he left the mostly empty hall and trailed back to his own room. He shouldn’t have thought Stiles would be interested in anything else besides his looks. It was, after all, his saving grace. After Kate’s stunt years back, most people averted their eyes - unable to meet Derek’s. It lingered with some, but it only took a year or two at most before he was once more a display.

Giggling visitors from other countries bashfully complimented him on how handsome he was, eyes raking up and down his body at parties and celebrations. Tabloids posted dozens of photos whenever he left the palace - endless remarks of his looks and how well clothes fit him and how others were sure the good looks didn’t stop at just his face pouring from every media outlet in the country and even in others.

He was used to it. He smiled his practiced smile, knew when to bow his head and murmur thanks. He was used to the squeezes to his bicep when being requested to dance and the lingering eyes of his partners. But that was it. Even Kate had said so when she still played the part of smitten girlfriend.

She’d tease him for his quiet nature and his lack of ability to feed into normal conversations. He could talk policy as needed and he had a plethora of books surrounding philosophers, history, and even art at his disposal - but they were drab topics outside of negotiations and proper business. And even if the analysis of Picasso’s The Old Guitarist was one Derek found interesting and showed the necessity of the arts and their value to civilizations old and new, Kate didn’t want to hear about it. Besides, even with his most impassioned topics on the table he still was a man of few words. Part of that came from being the son of the reigning Queen of Beacon, another part came from Kate’s backhanded nature.

Either way, it didn’t matter. Derek earned his keep with his looks. He was a nice face to look at and a figure that harnessed desire. Either no one cared what else he might be able to offer or his lack of personality drove them back to their distanced gazes. Just because Stiles could quote at least one line from every book Derek has ever picked up since he started working in the library and just because Stiles had enough words for five people let alone a conversation of two didn’t mean he wouldn’t be the same.

It was to be expected.

+.+.+

Several hours later found Derek in one of his more casual attires but one fit for a prince nonetheless. The party and celebration were not one for hosting political affairs - they were for rejoicing. Sure, it was shared amongst several other visiting countries, and the sprawling room and subsequent halls were filled with faces far and wide, but none of them came to talk about further negotiations, treaties, or trade options. They all came to eat, dance, and laugh - embracing the decade’s worth of peace since King Christopher took his father’s place in Silvenia and ended the wars and trade blocks.

Derek stood off to the side, doing his best to obscure himself as much as possible in the throng of people. He’d eaten, he’d talked to his family, and he’d even danced with several people. He had done his share, he thought. This was meant to be enjoyed, and he enjoyed being alone.

He couldn’t, however, forever hide from Braeden. He’d seen his mother walking with her, laughing. His mother’s eyes seemed to search the crowd, trying to find him, and he did his best to slink away before she caught a whiff of his location. He’d done a good job so far, but he knew it was a fruitless endeavor to try and avoid her all night. It had only been two hours and the celebration would more than likely go well into the night. His mother would find him eventually.

Musing the odds of success if he were to try and slink away to his room or possibly to the gardens for a couple of hours to avoid detection a bit longer, Derek zoned out momentarily - unaware of his surroundings. He acknowledged the movement of others, the change in music, but it was all background noise in his mind. Which is why it was the perfect time for him to be found.

Just not by his mother, it seemed.

“Derek?” Stiles asked, gently laying a hand on his arm, eyebrows scrunched up in concern. “You okay?”

Shaking himself out of his clouded thoughts, Derek nodded and went to pull away from Stiles’ touch - planning to test out his garden escape. He should’ve been looking out for the man. After all, Stiles has been a regular attendee of nearly all the Hale family’s gatherings and parties for over 10 years. His father was now the Head of Palace Guards and his mother had once overseen the library he now worked in. Stiles’ presence was all but guaranteed between his two parents both working in the palace on a daily basis. Derek had just distantly hoped he wouldn’t approach him here - similar to all previous events.

“Then you wouldn’t mind me asking for a dance, would you?” Stiles asked, his eyebrows now unscrunched, one raised in question as he held out his hand. Derek stared for a moment, bewildered.

In all the years Stiles had attended these gatherings, he’d never once asked to dance with Derek - he rarely spoke to him. He’d danced with Cora once or twice, the two having been closer as kids since they were the same age and Cora deciding Stiles was the perfect partner for her scheming ploys. But even now in recent times, since Derek and Stiles had begun their… whatever it was between them, he had never asked. It had been nearly a year of sneaking into hidden library corners, empty guest rooms, and ducking into stable stalls - stealing kisses, fingers unbuttoning shirts, hands roaming skin. In that same time over a handful of parties, political events, and other such gatherings had come to pass of all different magnitudes and Stiles had all but avoided Derek.

Cautiously, Derek put down the drink in his hand and laid the other in Stiles’ open palm. He let the other pull him seamlessly into the throng of moving bodies. The music wasn’t slow enough for proper dance steps but it wasn’t fast enough to deter other couples from swaying and moving across the floor together. Blessedly, Stiles moved into the crowd and guided one of Derek’s hands to his waist, clasping the other in his hand while Stiles laid his second hand on Derek’s shoulder.

No one really led in this dance, but Stiles letting him control the speed and direction was a godsend as he was sure to stumble if he had to follow. Derek was sure he had Cora to thank for that, as he recalled his younger sister demanding to be the lead and making a young, 11-year-old Stiles learn to follow in all their dance numbers. He recalls hiding smirks and laughs behind his hand and drinks, watching the two kids stumble about when Stiles accidentally went to lead them and Cora stubbornly refused to follow.

He pushed those memories aside, trying to remove the fond film he’s learned to lay over all the memories with Stiles in them. He doesn’t know when he’d begun to do it, but it was harder than he’d expected to try and stop it.

“You left kinda fast earlier,” Stiles finally murmured, voice low as his eyes danced around the room. They got a couple of second glances, those who knew of Stiles’ position a bit surprised to find the two dancing together. Sure, he danced with Cora over the years, but that was largely when they were kids and it was cute - something for the adults to coo over and take pictures of.

“Yes,” Derek answered simply. He didn’t know what Stiles wanted and he preferred to keep his cards close to his chest. Stiles huffed at the minimal response, a fond eye roll following it shortly after.

“Okay, thanks for that,” Stiles teased, “what I meant is why? Did- did I say something to upset you? Did something happen - are you okay?”

Even in shorter sentences, Stiles still somehow rambled. His tempo was a bit too fast, his tone of voice wavering and pitching in odd places, teeth biting at his lips as he came up with a dozen more thoughts - his face mirroring his reaction to each one in live action. Derek quelled the amusement he found in the mannerisms.

“Just wanted to leave.”

At this, Stiles seemed to stutter in movement, feet delayed and causing the two to stumble momentarily. Both of Derek’s hands moved to hold him at the waist, righting him before he could fall while Stiles’ hands both gripped Derek’s shoulders to help anchor himself. They found themselves closer together, the stance becoming a bit more personal and intimate than before.

“Leave… me?” Stiles whispered quietly, looking over Derek’s shoulder. Derek stayed quiet, unsure how to answer without giving too much away. “Is it because of what I said? That I’m attracted to you? Did that upset you?” It was Derek’s turn to bring a stutter to their movements, going rigid. He thankfully composed himself much quicker, only setting them off by a step at most that was easily regained.

“I don’t have an issue with you finding me attractive, Stiles,” Derek sighed, “like you said, who isn’t.”

It wasn’t a question. But he couldn’t control the bite that came out with the last two words, a bit of a sarcastic drawl underlining his words. At this, Stiles snapped his eyes to the side, looking questioningly at his dance partner. Derek didn’t explain any further, instead avoiding direct eye contact as best he could while still dancing.

“Is that…” Stiles’ words faltered, dying off. Even without looking at his face, Derek could see his thoughts play out. He swear he could hear the gears grinding in his head as he raced through all possible questions, answers, scenarios, and each of their meanings in a span of a few seconds. It would never cease to impress and exasperate Derek how Stiles thought just as quickly as he spoke - often one blending into the other without filter or regard for how his words came out.

“Der,” Stiles said, his voice suddenly a bit louder and demanding. Derek just raised his eyebrows in response, gaze still not meeting Stiles’. The younger boy huffed, hides sliding up from Derek’s shoulders to grip either side of his face and force Derek to look at him before he continued speaking. “What I said was true. I don’t know any sane person who would turn you down, but - that’s not the only reason I’m attracted to you. You know that, right? You have to know that.”

Derek swallowed the lump in his throat, giving a partial shrug to try and show his indifference on the matter. It seemed to be the wrong response, however, when Stiles growled out low in frustration, his fingers digging in a bit more into Derek’s skin and demanding his attention.

“You have to know,” he said, incredulous. “You think - what? All this time I just wanted some casual… fling? That I just saw a pretty face and that was all it took? A pretty face and I spend hours sneaking away from my work, hiding from my dad, skirting around guards?”

Stiles paused, but not long enough for Derek to actually respond. He shook his head as if in disbelief before continuing, “Is that it? You thought I just wanted to fuck around with you? Jesus Christ, how shallow do you think I am? Better yet! How stupid?! If I just wanted someone for their looks why would I go after a prince? A prince, Derek. I know we’re evolved and all but I’m sure your mom would still approve a hanging or beheading or some other medieval offing of me, fuck.”

Derek couldn’t help but crack a wry grin at Stiles’ vomit of words, head ducking down slightly as he tamped down on his laughter. The idea of his mother not only approving but requesting a beheading seemed comical - the woman was terse and poised, levelheaded beyond compare, but she was also the same woman who cried over Animal Planet at 9 PM on a Tuesday after seeing a crocodile eat a baby zebra. She blubbered about ‘the poor baby’ for half an hour, squeezing Cora into a smushed hug against her chest and all but breaking Derek’s bones as she held his hand. It was a hilarious thought, all things considered.

Stiles’ noise of exasperation broke him from his daddling thoughts, surprising Derek. Another thing Stiles was good at; even without trying, he got Derek lost in his own rambling thoughts - Stiles’ jabber and ranting offering endless avenues of thought and consideration, even if absurd. It was a nice change of pace, having something to ponder and get lost in. Something that was entertaining and not all too important that demanded his full focus or response all at once.

“Derek, I am about to make a damn fool of myself and if someone overhears this and then sees you walk away from me I think I’ll be forced to exile myself but, Jesus fuck , here it goes,” Stiles let out a long breath, eyes closing briefly before reopening and settling on Derek as if he were a target. “I am in-fucking-love with you. I love how you speak with your eyebrows and eye rolls better than any person can with words. I love how you obsessively read fucking historical books and pour over goddamn poetry and art journals. I love how you get spaced out when we talk about centuries-old plays and hundred-year-old paintings as if you can’t comprehend what they mean and are stunned by their mere existence. I love how you talk and sound like you’re thinking of murdering me and then just- laugh! And god, your laugh - I still can’t figure out if it’s your smile or your laugh that’s my favorite. And, fuck- I just… I can’t think of a single thing I don’t obsessively think about when it comes to you. And of course, of course, you’re fucking beautiful - work of art, walking god, all the usuals - but I… I just love being with you.”

They stopped dancing, coming to a halt in the middle of the mass of people. Derek is sure the song changed, people who still lingered a bit further away now going through similar steps and movements he couldn’t be bothered to recall or put a name to. He also knew they were being watched - hell, he’s sure half a dozen people caught at least half of that spiel, with Stiles’ voice raising in tone and pitch and volume like crazy throughout as if he couldn’t control it.

He felt a bit punch drunk, in a way. He didn’t know if he should be embarrassed that Stiles caught him wistfully zoning out over paintings or if he should laugh at the fact that Stiles has somehow done what not even his family has by being able to read and understand his responses just by facial expressions alone. It felt like a weight had been removed from his shoulders but his stomach felt heavy, stirring with nerves.

“You love me?” he finally asked. Stiles groaned, smacking his head against the curve of his own arm that rested against Derek’s shoulder. He was muttering and cursing quietly.

“I only repeated it about a hundred times but, yes. Yes - I love you. I am in love with you, I will figure out all the euphemisms to say it and learn it in as many languages as I can. Hell, I’ll do it old school - find a fucking boombox and sta-”

Stiles’ remaining rant cut off as Derek pulled his chin up, pressing a harsh kiss against the other’s lips. It wasn’t soft or biting, just… hard. Solid. Reassuring. Stiles helped quell the bruising press of lips by softly dragging a thumb over Derek’s cheek, the gesture making the kiss soften until they both were pulling away. Stiles looked awestruck, eyes dancing and sliding side to side to take in the room before ultimately landing once more on Derek’s face, a pleased grin taking over his face as their eyes met.

“I’ve been stupidly in love with you ever since you began singing that awful song when I tried to explain what a Blue Period was and then I kept humming it all week because it was stuck in my head,” Derek offered as an explanation for his actions. Stiles paused, eyebrows pulled together in consideration for a second before he broke out into loud laughter, probably remembering the exact scene from two years prior. If no one saw them before they surely had garnered enough people’s attention by now.

“I think I’ve been in love with you since you told Harris off for making me cry during the Polka,” Stiles grinned. It was Derek’s turn to bark out a laugh, louder than he had laughed in a while. He remembered that, it was 8 years ago - when Stiles and Cora were still learning various dances. Cora had to learn for the sake of her title and appearance, Stiles was just the poor culprit she wrangled into the mess and who could barely keep time with the three-step beat, leading to lots of stumbling and Harris berating him before Derek growled out a retort about being so pathetic to bully a child.

Derek remembered it as a scarring experience, Stiles refusing to dance for two weeks after. Stiles, however, decided it was the moment in which he’d fall in love with a then-angry, overly private 16-year-old that barely even spoke to him. Derek wasn’t sure which moment of realization was more absurd between them.

“You were thirteen !”

“And I was in love!”

It got quiet between the two, both of them just grinning at the other. Neither bothered to realize just how quiet it had gotten, or how much space had been carved out around them during their conversation. They were lost in their own world, ignorant to the rest of the room around them.

It wasn’t until a minute or two passed when a cleared throat caught their attention, making them realize the quieter atmosphere and their center stage set up among the crowd. Talia - Queen Talia - stood beside them, a knowing smirk on her face as she regarded them with a raised eyebrow, hands clasped in front of her.

Stiles gave a half-choked squawk in realization while Derek bowed his head, his cheeks heating in embarrassment. They separated abruptly, standing side by side to face Talia head-on.

“So,” Talia broke the silence, “I don’t think I’ll be introducing you to Braeden anytime soon. Seeing as you already have a boyfriend, hm?”

Stiles choked again, some mangled word dying in his throat, while Derek simply looked up at his mom with a deer-in-the-headlights look. When she gave a pointed tilt of her head, eyes shooting to Stiles as the younger man seemed paralyzed on the spot, Derek knew she was encouraging him to confirm. To say something .

“Yes,” he finally managed to pull out, his hand reaching out to grasp Stiles’ and squeezing it in question. When he got an immediate squeeze in response, he gave his mother a wide, genuine smile. “I’m dating Stiles.”

With that, Talia seemed pleased. She clapped her hands, announced that further celebration was to commence, and then left them as they were. It was oddly anti-climatic, the room returning to its usual activity and volume as before - only sneaky side glances were thrown their way in curiosity. It was easy for Derek to pull Stiles back to the outskirts of the room, however, the two of them were unable to stop glancing at each other and sharing smiles.

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undercoverbastard · 8 months

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“Don’t believe me?” he asked, a bit haughtily, lips becoming pursed. “Hmm… did your supposed, imaginary cat sound anything like… this?”

Stilinski proceeded to meow long and loud, making Derek clamp down and bite at his lips to hold in the laughter. The guy wasn’t too bad, his imitation of a yowling cat was pretty spot on actually. But, still, there was something undeniably hilarious about a shirtless college student with pillow creases still marring their face throwing their head back and yowling at the top of their lungs like a distressed cat. Matt on the other hand looked none too pleased.

“No, actually, it didn’t,” he huffed.

“Oh? Hm - maybe this?” Stilinski asked, making several shorter, higher-pitched sounds, imitating a chittering cat. Derek was now raising his eyebrows, eyeing the guy. Even from his placement behind Matt, he could see red splotches crawling up the RA’s neck and speckling his skin, showing just how frustrated he was becoming. Stilisnki remained undeterred.

+.+.+

OR: another writers block + 15 WIPs + tumblr prompt = something involving cats that is meant to make you feel good. that's it. that's the fic.

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undercoverbastard · 8 months

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Yowlin’ For You

“Don’t believe me?” he asked, a bit haughtily, lips becoming pursed. “Hmm… did your supposed, imaginary cat sound anything like… this?”

“No, actually, it didn’t,” he huffed.

+.+.+

OR: another writers block + 15 WIPs + tumblr prompt = something involving cats that is meant to make you feel good. that's it. that's the fic.

Derek froze up when he turned the corner, his dorm room in sight and the RA - Matt - standing there knocking loudly. He slowed his steps, trying to make out what was being said.

“Hale!” Matt finally loud, ending his incessant mumbling, voice sharp. “Open up! I know you have a cat in there!”

Hearing the words, Derek began to freak out. He watched as Matt began to search his pockets, more than likely trying to find his master key for the dorms. Quickly, Derek strode up, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance. He wasn’t all too sure he was pulling it off - there’s a reason he refused to take theater, even if Laura was a Big Name among BHHS for all the roles she played (that was reason number two for why he didn’t sign up: Laura).

“Matt? Everything okay?” Derek asked, scrunching up his eyebrows in fake confusion. He could feel his heart thudding loudly in his chest. The only reason he was even half-sane was because Fenny never turned him down when he scooped her up and made her cuddle with him. Otherwise, Derek probably would have overdosed on Redbulls or impaled himself on his pencil after falling asleep at his desk at 4 AM while doing an essay (for the nth time.

When Matt heard Derek, he whipped around with a murderous look in his eye. Angrily, the shorter man moved much too close to Derek, with only a few inches of space between them, and shoved his finger harshly into Derek’s chest. This was the closest Derek had ever been to the RA and he was quickly understanding why the entire floor avoided him like the plague no matter how dire a situation may be. Matt made Derek’s skill crawl .

“I know there’s a cat in there! I could hear it and it explains why I’ve felt like I’ve had a damn cold for the past two weeks. You know the rules; no pets. Get rid of it,” the last few words came out from clamped teeth, a vein popping out on Matt’s forehead and making Derek shrink in on himself. Which, aside from that gross display on Matt’s face, was not at all accurate. Fenny had been living in the dorms since the third week of the semester. They were barely a week away from finals; it had been much longer than two weeks and therefore was not the cause of Matt’s stupid cold symptoms! Though, Derek thought, that fact would not help his case.

Fumbling, Derek grappled for words, silently shaking his head as he looked at the other. Unfortunately, when Derek clammed up, he got what his sisters lovingly called ‘murder face’ - his eyebrows knit together, his lips dipped into a harsh downward curve, his jaw tensed, and he overall looked like he was ten seconds away from a killing spree. Oddly enough, such a look did nothing to deter Matt - if anything, it only egged him on further.

Squinting his eyes, Matt stabbed his finger into Derek’s chest again, leaning forward into uncomfortable levels of closeness. “Anything to say, tough guy?”

“I,” Derek finally got out, his jaw unclenching just enough, “don’t know what you’re tal-”

“BULLSHIT!” Matt suddenly yelled, causing Derek to lean back as far as he could. The shrill sound of Matt’s voice made his ears ring. Not only did the guy give off the world’s biggest Creeper Vibes he was also headache-inducing. Quite literally, in Derek’s case, seeing as his brain felt like it was being assaulted by the sharp tingling sensation that now took residence in his eardrums.

Luckily, before Matt could continue his screeching and squalling, a door opened up just next to Derek’s - behind Matt. A guy popped his head out, squinting angrily at the duo. He had a mess of brown hair that seemed to spill in all directions and Derek could still see the creases from the guy’s pillow pressed into one of his cheeks. If the murderous squint he had directed at them didn’t show his displeasure then the exaggerated frown did. It was almost comical how low the guy’s mouth was downturned.

“Dude, what the hell is going on out here?” the guy asked, his voice rough from - what Derek assumed - his interrupted sleep. Derek would later reflect on just how nice that voice sounded, deep and rough around the edges; tinted with sleep.

Matt let out what was probably meant to be a growl before turning to face the other. Derek was all too glad to have his attention directed elsewhere so he could take a couple of steps back and reestablish his personal bubble. He did, however, feel guilty that Matt’s rage was now turned towards this stranger (this admittedly cute stranger, who Derek was now realizing he had never seen and was largely disappointed by such a fact).

“Butt out, Stilinski,” Matt snapped, making a shooing motion with one hand. Surprisingly, the guy - Stilinski - seemed unphased by the angry outburst. If anything, it seemed to egg him on as he opened his door even more, lips curling up into a lazy smirk instead of their previous frown. Derek watched as the guy leaned back against his door jamb, arms crossed over his bare chest, head cocked in question as he looked both Derek and Matt up and down. He was sure Stilinski’s eyes lingered on him a bit longer, but they quickly snapped back towards Matt before he could take even a second to process the probability.

“I would,” Stilinski drawled, “but your hissy fit is disturbing my beauty rest. And I need my whole 3 hours, Matty. Looks like this takes a lot of effort - you don’t want my dashing looks to wither away now, do you? Exactly - so I can’t butt out.”

The more the guy talked, the easier it was to see the smirk on his face. By the end of it, he was all but grinning at Matt, a twinkle of amusement and mischief lighting up his eyes as he spoke. It seemed like a familiar song and dance with the way he said ‘Mattie’, the snark and sass secondhand. Or maybe that’s just how this guy was, Derek thought.

Matt’s attention seemed to be focused entirely on Stilinski now as he took a couple of steps closer to him. However, the other man stayed as he was - relaxed, unbothered. He was definitely familiar with Matt, then. No one could be faced with someone as unsettling as Matt Daehler for the first time and be this unphased.

“You can blame your lack of sleep and apparent ‘beauty’ on Hale and his damn cat,” Matt hissed. “Now go back to your room and butt out .”

At this, Stilinski seemed to straighten up, a proper look of confusion no painting his features. Derek found the confused pout and cocked head reminiscent of a puppy. Just as cute, too.

“Cat? I think you’re mistaken, Mattie, cats aren’t allowed in the dorms, and Hale,” he nodded, jutting his chin in Derek’s direction, “is as prim and proper as they come. I don’t even hear the guy open his door after 9 PM. Think ya got the wrong guy, dude.”

Matt gave his attempt at a growl once more, shaking his head. “Cut the shit, I heard the meowing. Do I looks stupid?!” A muffled huff of laughter was given at the end, Stilinski moving a hand up to rub at his jaw as if to hide the action, but if Derek could hear it from where he stood he was certain Matt could too. Derek’s own silent chuckle caused him to duck his head, doing his best to remain in the background of whatever was now going on.

“Hate to burst your bubble,” Stiles said, grinning widely and not-at-all sorry or apologetic, “but that wasn’t a cat. That was me!”

It was Matt’s turn to laugh, his snort loud and clear as he shook his head. This reaction prompted Stilinski to raise an eyebrow as if in challenge. Derek was, by this point, utterly lost on where this whole thing was going. Maybe Stilinski was also harboring a cat? But if so - why out himself? And if he wasn’t harboring his own fluffy, cuddly refugee, then why bother swooping to Derek’s defense?

“Don’t believe me?” he asked, a bit haughtily, lips becoming pursed. “Hmm… did your supposed, imaginary cat sound anything like… this?”

“No, actually, it didn’t,” he huffed.

“Oh! Oh! How about this one - I do this one a lot when I’m bored-”

He promptly cut himself off, producing a long mrrrow and a rumbling purr-adjacent sound at the end. The purr was shaky, less accurate, but more of an afterthought than the ‘mrow’; at this point, Derek could tell he was just fucking with Matt, seeing how far he could push the guy.

“I mean, maybe you heard a hiss? I do that one a lot too, yanno, doing homework and stuff. Here, let me show you,” Stilinski offered, now standing up straight and taking in a deep breath as he prepared to - apparently - hiss at Matt. Unfortunately (or maybe, fortunately, for Stilinski’s remaining pride and Matt’s barely contained rage), Matt cut him off with waving hands.

“I get it, I get it! It was you, Jesus Christ,” Matt grumbled. “Just cut it out with the fucking cat noises and stay out of my sight, I don’t care anymore.”

Turning to cast one last withering look at Derek, Matt huffed and stalked off. Stilinski gave a mock salute with two fingers, his lazy smirk quickly and easily settling back into place as he watched the RA slink away and around the corner. After several seconds of quiet, when Matt was possibly out of earshot but also possibly not, Stilisnki burst into laughter, bending his body in half as he curled into himself and clutched his stomach. His laughter was loud and clear, pouring out from deep in his stomach as the sounds wracked through his body in waves. Derek couldn’t help but grin at the sight, the joy from the other contagious.

After he had his fill of laughing and had once more straightened himself out, Stilinski finally looked up and met eyes with Derek. Derek gave an awkward half-smile in response, hesitantly raising his hand slightly to offer a wave as means of greeting. The only response was an amused smile.

Figuring the interaction was done with, Derek gave a nod of thanks, ducked his head, and made the final few steps until he was in front of his door. He jiggled the door while twisting his key in the lock for a second or two before a voice spoke up, suddenly much closer than it was the last time Derek heard it.

“So can I see him?”

Jerking, Derek shoved his door open a few inches as he pivoted to come face-to-face with Stilisnki. Who was now standing next to Derek. Still shirtless. With his hands in his pockets. And rocking on his feet. And with the cutest, most hopeful smile on his face. Shit .

Realizing he’d not answered and was still staring at the guy, Derek shook his head to clear himself before clearing his throat, mumbling a quick, “Her.” Which was not what he meant to focus on or respond to - but at least it was a response. Sort of.

Stilisnki scrunched his eyebrows in confusion before understanding dawned, a more excited tone coloring his voice when he corrected himself, “Can I see her ?”

Derek darted a glance down the hall, cocking his head back and forth ever so slightly, before sighing and deciding fuck it. With a nod, he was suddenly pushed back away from his own door as Stilinski wormed his way into his room. Once he got over the abruptness of the actions, Derek followed him in and shut the door behind himself. When he turned around, he came face to face with the sight of Stilisnki laying on the ground on his stomach, a hand outstretched just under Derek’s bed as he clicked his tongue softly to try and coax Fenny out.

Fenny was usually quiet and content with keeping to herself. If she wasn’t sleeping next to Derek at night or curled up in his lap while he studied then she was often found under his bed, curled up on her own fluffy bed filled with toys and blankets. The toys she had were rarely played with, however, though she did entertain herself endlessly with the dangling strings of the hoodie thrown over the back of Derek’s desk chair. He’d gotten an extra long piece of cord and threw it over the back of the chair, tying it to the middle support beam that held up the backrest. That way, he could wear his hoodie without feeling guilty and Fenny could play with the string without knocking his hoodie to the ground and ending the fun accidentally. It was a win-win.

“Oh, what a pretty girl, oh! And you’re so soft, like a piece of fluffy cotton candy - and just so sweet,” Stilinski cooed, words falling in a mumble as if he couldn’t control them. He praised Fenny with every word even faintly resembling ‘pretty’ at least twice, compared her to soft clouds, all but recited a poem about her ‘silky’ fur, and proclaimed several times how he would be forced to kidnap her if she didn’t stop purring in such a ridiculously cute way. Derek was actually a little scared the guy would, in fact, try and steal her.

Derek was caught up in his thoughts, doing his own silently cooing over how adorable Stilinski was acting sprawled across his dingy dorm carpet just to pet a cat, that he missed the question. He caught the tail end of it, a murmured ‘...name?’. Assuming he was asking Derek’s name, Derek replied as such.

“Derek. Derek Hale.”

This prompted Stilinski to turn bodily towards Derek, propping himself up on one elbow, and raise his eyebrows in question. With amusement clear as day, he asked, “You named her Derek? Not a name I’d think of for a cat, or a girl, but I’m not one to judge.”

Derek felt himself flush momentarily as he shook his head. “No- no, her name is Fenny, I’m Derek… sorry.” This only made the guy laugh, his shoulders shaking with the noise and movement of his body, uncontrolled by the laughter freely flowing out just as before.

“Ah, that makes much more sense,�� he mused before adding, “I’m Stiles.”

Derek rolled the name around in his head, finding it oddly suiting for the guy (though, Stiles Stilinski ? That had to be some nickname, maybe a middle name, right? He knew a few people who had things for alliteration with names but… Stiles Stilinski? ). The guy must have heard his thoughts as he puffed out another breath of air in laughter as he assured Derek it was ‘just a nickname for his inconceivable first name’. Derek couldn’t help but ponder what Stiles’ actual name was, along with what his favorite color was, what bands he listened to, if he preferred Mexican or Italian, if he’d prefer to get coffee or catch a movie instead on a first date…

Shaking himself from his lost train of thought, Derek awkwardly cleared his throat, once more catching Stiles’ eyes before he ducked his head down a bit. “Uh, thanks. For, you know, covering for Fenny and me. With Matt. I don’t know what I’d do if they made me get rid of her,” Derek said, thinking a proper thanks was called for, all things considered. His brain may have gone off course but the realization of what just took place in the last ten minutes made him realize all that led up to Stiles being in his dorm room now and how it could have gone terribly wrong instead.

Stiles simply waved him off before he dragged himself back into a standing position, his fingers lazily dragging themselves through Fenny’s fur once more as he fully stood up, causing the black-haired monster Derek called a pet to quietly protest and begin to wind herself around Stiles’ legs in search of more pets. Stiles grinned down at her quickly before looking back up at Derek.

“No problem, Mattie Boy is a real piece of work - I’d have done it just to get under his skin. Helping you and Fenny out was just the cherry on top,” he said, popping the ‘p’ at the end and offering a crooked grin. He suddenly tilted his head, a question dancing in his eyes.

“Fenny… how’d you come up with that anyhow?” Stiles asked, genuinely seeming intrigued. Derek blushed a bit, already knowing a follow-up question would be asked once he explained the name.

“Ah, well… I called her Fenrir when I first found her but then it just… became Fenny and… yea,” Derek mumbled. Stiles seemed to light up at that. It made Derek feel things, very bubbly happy things, at the intrigue and delight that swam in the other’s eyes, his eyes all but glowing and glinting in the dully lit room.

“From Norse mythology? Awesome, dude! How’d you even come up with that? And where’d you even find her? I mean, I saw you sneak in once with some litter a couple of months back so I know it’s been a while but she’s pretty quiet. Have you had her this whole time? Dude - sneaking her in must have been a bitch,” Stiles rambled, a seeming mountain of questions already piling up. Derek felt overwhelmed just the slightest but couldn’t help the slight smile that peeked out.

“It’s kind of a long story,” he muttered, shrugging. The mischievous glint returned to Stiles’ eyes, though his posture seemed to become a bit shy, smoothing out and ever so slightly hunching in on himself as he eyed Derek for a moment.

After a brief pause, Stiles shrugged in seeming nonchalance as he announced, “I’m not busy. Maybe you could tell me about it. Maybe over coffee or something…”

Derek squinted ever so slightly, seeing how the softest of pinks began to bloom over Stiles’ cheeks, how his hand reached up to push through his hair while his eyes darted to the side as he awaited an answer. Maybe Derek wasn’t the only one interested.

“Sure,” Derek offered, “it’s a date.”

Stiles grinned widely, straightening up immediately. “Okay, yea, awesome! Let me just, uh, I’ll go grab my phone and wallet if - if you’re free now…?”

Derek nodded, taking another look at Stiles, allowing himself a minute to properly look the other over. With a sly smirk, he added, “Now works. But… are you going to grab a shirt too? Or do you usually forego a shirt on a first date?”

Stiles looked down, seemingly surprised at his state of dress, before barking out a laugh and shaking his head. When he looked back up at Derek, he already knew from the grin on the other’s face that his next words were going to be just as teasing.

“No, not usually… unless you’re lucky,” Stiles replied, offering a wink. He moved towards the door, seemingly to go grab his phone, but paused just before opening the door. “If you’re really lucky, maybe I’ll forego more than just the shirt. Guess we’ll see.”

With that, Stiles slipped out of the room and down the hall. Derek was left grinning at the closed door, a rush of excitement and delight pumping through his veins. Fenny decided her presence had been ignored long enough and began to paw at his legs until Derek picked her up. Scratching her stomach and listening to her purr, Derek mumbled to himself.

“If I am lucky, you’ll have the room all to yourself tonight, Fenny.”

Fenny purred and nuzzled against his chest, seemingly uncaring of the declaration. Derek took as her agreement to such an arrangement. He’d deal with whatever passive-aggressive shredding of clothes Fenny decided to do in protest if such a thing happened at a later time. For now, he had to focus on getting ready for his date. And on how to convince Stiles to forego his shirt again. And the rest of his clothes.

End Note:

Please note this is not edited or beta read or anything. I’m aware there’s typos and I’ve tried to clean it up as best as I can but there’s bound to still be some! This was originally posted on AO3 and a link to it will be posted after this as well!

If any changes / edits are made on AO3 it’s for minor changes such as spelling or grammar. Changes will not be made in this post - please see AO3 for the most updated version of anything posted here!(:

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undercoverbastard · 1 year

Text

The Jeep

Eli’s sixteen and Stiles wants to give him the Jeep, Derek might need some persuading.

[AO3]

“I’m just saying—” Stiles said, sitting back against the velvet covered bedhead. “He’s sixteen now, he’s got his licence, he’s going to need a car.”

“Then we’ll get him a car,” Derek replied from the ensuite.

“Why not just give him the Jeep?” Stiles pressed.

Derek peered his head around the corner of the doorframe. “Because that thing is held together by duct tape and prayers.”

“Then we’ll get it fixed up,” Stiles suggested.

“Or we just get him a new car,” Derek countered, stepping out of the ensuite. He turned the light off behind him and climbed into bed beside Stiles. “One with better safety ratings, GPS, Bluetooth, and all that. A car that’s not going to break down or fall to pieces every time he reverses out of the driveway.”

“A car that crumples like a paper ball at the smallest dent? I mean, I hit Jackson with that Jeep and it barely made a dent.”

Keep reading

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undercoverbastard · 1 year

Text

“Anything else I can get for ya, big guy?” Stiles asked, head cocked. He still had a playful glint in his eyes but his smile was wide and sincere. Of course, Derek took none of that into consideration and fell back on his oh-so-limited supply of responses.

“Fight m-” Derek broke off his attempted growling words, dissolving into a fit of wheezes and coughs. The words were strangled and harsh, his throat apparently drier than he thought. Even just the couple of words scratched down his throat most unpleasantly, making it feel like he had swallowed liquid fire and a mouth full of sand. It probably didn't help that he had tried to growl out the words, pushing too much on his vocal cords and throat, but he refused to take blame for his pitiful display. He was too pissed off about this whole thing to begin with.

+.+.+ OR: based on a tumblr post - sick derek+nurse stiles=weird flirting and coffee cup dates

#teen wolf #teen wolf fic #teen wolf fanfiction #derek hale x stiles stilinski #stiles x derek #sterek fic rec #sterek fics #stiles stilinski #derek hale #derek hale fanfiction #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #archive of our own #ao3 #ao3 writer #ao3fic

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undercoverbastard · 1 year

Text

“Fine. On three?” Stiles asked, hands moving to the ties at the back of his head. Mystery Man smiled and nodded, mirroring the position.

“One,” Stiles began.

“Two,” Mystery Man continued.

“Thr-”

“Derek! Where did you go?! Mother has been seeking your presence for the last hour!”

Stiles felt himself seize up in partial shock. He never finished removing his mask but Mystery Man - Derek - had. Stiles was stuck between watching Derek’s chiseled, sharp-angled face come into view - his multi-colored eyes somehow popping even more with the lack of a mask - and between watching the movement of the girl who barged in, dressed in the riches of cloths, dress the blood red color of Beacon’s Royal Family with the family crest proudly pinned to the golden trim around the swoop of her neckline, who looked murderously annoyed.

+.+.+ OR: Cinderella!AU… with a twist! WA fic born of my recent Royaly AU/Historical AU fixation that was supposed to be a snippet, became a bit more developed but also… not really?

#teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fic #teen wolf #sterek fic rec #derek hale x stiles stilinski #derek hale fanfiction #stiles x derek #derek hale #sterek fics #stiles stilinski #archive of our own #ao3 #ao3fic #ao3 writer #royalty au #royal au #fluff

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undercoverbastard · 1 year

Text

Stiles: do you like me? Like REALLY like me?

Derek *literally on one knee, proposing*: take a wild fucking guess Stiles.

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undercoverbastard · 1 year

Text

Note

For anyone who found me via Tumblr first by chance, just wanted to let you all know that I recommend using the AO3 links on my posts to read!

I have a couple fics I have yet to upload and whenever I am able to re-read and self-edit fics I only update them on AO3 (I often forget about Tumblr since this is a backup) So you may find additional work(s) and have a better reading experience through Archive of Our Own. It's my more organized platform - Tumblr-me is... messier

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undercoverbastard · 1 year

Text

Double Cherries (and 'Extra' Hoodies)

“No, no - wait - don’t tell me,” Stiles suddenly said, leaning forward and grinning at the boy directly on his right, eyes gleaming with joy and mischief as he spoke. “You want… a salmon burger, swiss, with fruit, and a vanilla shake. Eh?”

Derek scowled, shoving his menu at Stiles as he slumped back. “No,” he said plainly. Stiles pouted.

“Too bad! That’s what I’m penning you in for, Eyebrows,” Stiles said, scribbling on his notepad as he stood and began to walk away. Derek huffed, opening his mouth to give Stiles his actual order, but the only word he got out was ‘I’ before Stiles waved him off without even looking back at Derek or down at the notepad, stride unbroken, as he recited:

“Double cheeseburger, half swiss, half cheddar, no pickles, curly fries, side honey mustard, strawberry milkshake, extra thick, double cherries.”

+.+.+ OR: alive hale family, alive claudia, and high school friends stiles/derek - all wrapped into one, based on a joke from a TV show i watched when i was 7, and then got wildly out of control!

Archive of Our Own Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45190867

“Welcome in! You know where to go,” Stiles grinned and threw a nod to the back room area with several tables shoved together. The Hale family simply smiled in response, some waved as they walked by, and filed into the larger of the two side spaces off the main floor.

He was sure his mom had specifically set up that area for the Hale family. He’d only ever seen them sit there and on several - very few - occasions, large groups assembled for some birthday, reunion, or other such events that could only be accommodated by using the larger space. If they were super busy for whatever reason, sometimes his mom would break up the tables to accommodate additional, smaller groups. But the main setup, with the three tables all shoved together in the center of the room, stuffed with chairs running down each side of the long, conjoined table, and several smaller 2-4 seaters off in each corner? Yea, that was for the Hales. No one could convince Stiles otherwise.

They came in at least twice a month, the whole group, and had dinner. It was almost a daily thing to see at least one of them - picking up an on-the-go meal, grabbing extra pastries from the display case, or stopping for a fix of his mom’s homemade apple cider. But all of them together? That happened like clockwork every other week.

“Ready to order or do you guys need a few extra minutes to pretend to look over the menu and still order the same thing anyways?” Stiles grinned as he sauntered up to the table. He pulled out one of the only open seats left at the very end and flipped it around, sitting down and bracing his elbow on the back of the chair as he leaned his chin against his open palm. Half the table rolled their eyes, the other gave small huffs of laughter. They were all used to Stiles’s particular brand of humor.

Starting with the person to his left - Elaine - Stiles jotted down each person's order. Despite his joke, the Hales did like to spice up their orders even with their frequent attendance. Most of them had a few dishes they regularly liked to cycle through, some were always trying new things (Laura was the reason for the Weekly Specials, Stiles was sure of it, after she complained one too many times about how boring all the restaurants in town were for his mother's liking), and some were oddly picky (Jenna, the youngest Hale of the bunch, sometimes liked pickles but never when she liked tomatoes - and she always wanted ketchup with her meal but if she got curly fries then she’d also ask for ranch or blue cheese, Stiles couldn’t tell what determined the preference but it was always a toss up).

Out of all the Hales, though, one of them was without a doubt predictable without fail.

Derek scowled, shoving his menu at Stiles as he slumped back. “No,” he said plainly. Stiles pouted.

“Double cheeseburger, half swiss, half cheddar, no pickles, curly fries, side honey mustard, strawberry milkshake, extra thick, double cherries.”

Derek scrunched his eyebrows, glaring at the younger boy as he walked away, but the small uptick at the corner of his mouth wasn’t lost on his family. Laura laughed behind her hand, Cora smirked, Mark gave a long-suffering sigh, the younger kids already lost interest, and all the adults gave a roll of their eyes (Peter mumbled something about “stupid teenagers” but was quickly shut up when his wife Lila elbowed him sharply, earning a giggle from their son Austin).

“Three.”

Talia raised an eyebrow, turning to see Claudia now standing just behind her chair and to the side, arms crossed and an amused look on her face as her eyes focused on Derek. She must have slipped in during everyone placing their orders, though how much of the interaction she saw Talia was unsure.

Humming to herself, Talia watched as Stiles finally made it to the kitchen, only part of his upper body visible through the open doorway as he leaned against the window to pin up his order and call out something to the cooks, a wide grin painted on his lips. He laughed with his whole body, leaning heavily against the window as he talked with whoever was in the kitchen, tapping at the ticket he just put up with a playful grin.

“Really? I saw six,” Talia smoothly responded, leaning further back into her chair. She cast a mischievous glance up toward Claudia, who gave her a smirk in response.

“Six?” Nick asked, looking between his wife and Claudia. “Three? What? Six and three what?”

“They’re betting on how long it’ll take those two to get a clue,” Lila offered, rolling her eyes at the other man. Her husband snorted beside her, earning him yet another jab to the ribs.

“Still! Three and six what? Days? Weeks? Months? Years?!” Nick cried. No one answered him, causing him to pout and wildly look between the two women (one of which was his wife) in his life who always seemed to be up to something or another.

It was silent for a beat, before Peter - who was still rubbing at his ribs, obviously overplaying the jab from his wife - piped up, “I vote four.”

“Four WHAT?!”

+.+.+

It didn’t go unnoticed that when Stiles brought their food out, Derek’s burger had more tomatoes than anyone else’s just how he liked, even though extra tomatoes were never mentioned.

It also didn’t escape their notice that Stiles stole the first fry from Derek's plate and only got a roll of the eyes, while Cora got a smack to the hand and a glare that could start WWIII when she only attempted to take a fry.

+.+.+

“That’s not what I ordered,” Dereked huffed, though Stiles would say it sounded more like a whine. The darker-haired boy pouted and shoved the glass back across the counter, leaning back on his barstool as if the drink personally offended him.

“It’s not,” Stiles easily agreed, “it’s better.” He pushed the glass back toward Derek with a single finger. Derek’s glare became poutier and Stiles's grin became more of a smirk.

Claudia watched from the other end of the counter, counting out the till. She’d have to recount - she lost track two minutes ago when Stiles first began teasing Derek while they waited for his milkshake to be finished.

“Stiles.”

“Derek.”

“Stiles.”

“Derek. ”

“Please,” Derek said softly, a genuine frown now making its way onto his face. His shoulders slumped slightly, eyes darting to the side as he seemed to slowly lose his ability to keep up with Stiles’s usual banter. Claudia cocked her head, immediately noticing the change. She had the urge to ask what was wrong, a protectiveness she often forgot she had for the Hale children rearing its head inside her. But her own son seemed to beat her to it.

“Woah, hey, no of course. I’m sorry,” Stiles quickly corrected, pulling the glass back and moving to grab a second glass from the counter just behind him. He slid the second glass, filled to the brim with a thick, viscous pink liquid, in front of Derek slowly, his posture opening up slowly as he leaned against the opposite side of the counter and looked at Derek with a single raised eyebrow.

Neither said anything else for a minute, and Claudia was sure the interaction was over, but Stiles still had his head tilted ever so slightly, his body open and pointed towards Derek, an inquisitive expression aimed at the other. It was odd - seeing her son be so quiet. But he didn’t break, he remained steadfastly quiet, the only hint of conversation from him being the questioning look he directed at his friend.

Derek finally looked up and made eye contact after taking several slow, long sips of his shake (strawberry - as usual).

“I’m benched from the next game,” he said softly, almost so quietly Claudia didn’t hear. Stiles simply tilted his head more, chin dipping down as if to encourage Derek to keep going, but Stiles himself never spoke a word. “I’m two points away from failing math. Coach thought it would… encourage me to do better. But I just don’t get it, and basketball helps when I can’t focus and…”

Derek fell silent again, frowning as he fiddled with his straw, unable to meet Stiles’s eye.

Claudia watched, jaw dropped, as Stiles turned and walked away without a word. She felt her blood boil, ready to whack her own flesh and blood ten ways to Sunday with the nearest object and bundle Derek up in her arms and apologize for her stupid offspring, but just as quickly as the red rage filled her vision, Stiles was back.

Stiles plopped the previous milkshake on the counter across from Derek, but closer to himself, and placed a plate between them. It had two forks, what looked like a brownie that was cut to be the size of three regular brownies put together, and a large mound of whipped cream.

Taking one of the forks, Stiles cut a piece of brownie off and moved it toward his mouth before pausing. He locked eyes with Derek.

“I don’t work on Mondays, we should hang out. Go over homework together. I’m pretty good at math, might need some help with history though,” he said casually, popping the bite into his mouth, “I can barely remember one old white dude from the next.” Claudia raised an eyebrow. Her son had a 97% in history - she knew because his teacher called to discuss a recent essay regarding male circumcision and Claudia promptly ended the call once the teacher confirmed his grade in the class (he could write about the mating habits of mosquitos in history class for all she cared with those grades).

Derek gave a roll of his eyes and a half-smile. “I like history,” is all he said, before taking a bite of the brownie himself. Derek also knew Stiles's claim for needing help was far-fetched; he did, however, know Stiles didn't like history.

“I know.”

Claudia watched, a bit awed and with a dopey smile only a mother could pull off, as the two boys shared the brownie and sipped their milkshakes. Stiles began rambling about Scott’s newest girlfriend and also complaining about a weird sound the Jeep is making. Derek nodded along, mostly silent, communicating in some weird fashion with his eyebrows and various smirks.

Claudia gave up on the till and took the next two tables that came in, letting her son enjoy his moment in the bubble he’d created with Derek. She’d get onto him about socializing while on the clock and make him do the trash run later. For now, Derek seemed like the more important task.

+.+.+

Claudia paused between orders to watch as Derek walked out after throwing several bills on the counter (of which, she noted, could pay for his tab nearly three times over - even if Stiles charged him for the monstrosity of a brownie he brought out and therefore shouldn’t be charging Derek for anyways). And she was immediately thankful for her pause, as she got to witness Stiles pausing as he went to clear the dishes, only to stop when he saw Derek’s extra cherry from his shake carefully balanced on the top of his straw.

Stiles popped the red fruit into his mouth, stem sticking out, and smiled softly to himself as he went about clearing the counter and clearing out Derek’s order.

+.+.+

“Why you little-” Talia let out a low growl of frustration as she smacked her hand against the half-opened entryway door, watching as the two boys ran out and down the street before she could even get a good look at their faces. She had just come in with Laura and Derek to get a couple of Claudia’s pies for dinner that night. Grades had just come out the day before and she wanted to celebrate her children all having passing grades by getting their favorite desserts.

While waiting at the counter, Talia watched as two teenage boys smacked the large tray Stiles was carrying from the back out of his hands, causing food to fly all over the place and make a mess over the poor boy. Shouts and jeers were heard as they darted out, Talia hot on their tail to try and get names and faces but to no avail.

Turning around, Talia watched as Stiles knelt on the ground, head bowed, trying to clean up the spilled food. He was drenched in various drinks and covered in a mess of food. Laura and Derek were both crouched down trying to help clean up as well.

Before Talia could ask if Stiles knew who those boys were, she paused. Stiles’s hands were shaking, progressively getting worse, and he seemed half frozen to the spot aside from the tremors running up from his hands. Derek immediately dropped the stack of dishes he had been collecting and shuffled to sit right in front of Stiles on his knees, taking both of the boy’s hands in his own.

“Stiles,” Derek said softly, “breath. Come on, with me. In… One, two, three… out… good, again…”

Talia watched as her son gently coaxed Stiles into a familiar pattern, staving off what looked to be a panic attack. She watched silently as they went through the motions several times until Stiles’s hands shook less, only slight jumps of movement instead of literal tremors.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. I have a spare shirt in my bag from practice.”

Derek easily pulled Stiles up from the ground and grabbed his discarded backpack at the same time. He wound an arm around the smaller boy’s body and steered him to the back, not even bothering to look at Laura or his mom as he did so. When she met her daughter’s eyes, Talia just got a shrug and Laura motioned for her to help with the scattered dishes. It wasn’t long until another server was coming out from the back with rags and a bucket, insisting they could get the rest.

By the time the pies came out, Derek and Stiles still hadn’t come back out. The waitress who cleaned up the mess gave them one of the pies for free and apologized profusely before Laura waved them off. They did however confirm that Claudia was out for the day but that they’d see about having her pull video footage from when the incident occurred, jotting down the time and making a note for when Claudia came back in the next day.

Laura had already headed out to the car, telling her mom she’d get it started and warmed up. Talia was just about to leave and wait Derek out in the car after five more minutes had passed, hand on the door, when the two boys came back.

Stiles was in clean clothes, face red and eyes puffy, and a bag clutched in his hand along with his keys. Derek had a grip on the back of his neck, not saying anything, but helping to keep the other grounded with the touch as they walked.

Before reaching the door, Stiles stopped, gave Derek a weak smile, and leaned in for a hug. They hugged one another tight and quick, then let go. Stiles turned immediately, head ducked low as he moved towards the kitchens. Talia vaguely heard something mumbled about ‘clock out’ and ‘Jeep’, so she assumed Stiles was clocking out and then heading out to his car that was parked out back.

Derek watched after the other until he couldn’t see him through the kitchen entryway anymore. Then, he simply turned back towards his mom and walked out the door Talia held open for him. Neither of them said anything, but she did give her son a gentle squeeze on his shoulder and a soft smile. Derek simply nodded in response.

+.+.+

Talia wasn’t willing to comment on it, but she was sure she wasn’t the only one to notice Derek’s own change of clothes. The maroon hoodie he walked in wearing was missing, in its place was a plain t-shirt Talia was sure he wore earlier that week.

Conveniently, Talia also noticed that alongside a pair of BHHS branded basketball shorts, Stiles walked away in a maroon hoodie that looked to be a size too big, hanging from his frame like a blanket rather than a jacket. She stayed quiet about it. Just like she stayed quiet about the extra pie Derek had carried out to the car in one hand (peach cobbler - his favorite).

+.+.+

“What about Thursday? Nick’s making lasagna, Peter, Lila, and their kids will be out camping until the weekend, Cora and Eric will be doing a sleepaway for Adventure Scouts, and Laura is staying at a friend’s. It’ll just be Derek at the house and you know how he is,” Talia urged.

Claudia grinned widely, leaning against the counter. They hadn’t had a chance to have dinner together in ages, even with the whole family, but with just the four of them? Claudia was willing to bet it had been years (“Three months, Claude,” Talia corrected with a huff). Noah had Thursday and Friday off this week, a rare ‘proper’ weekend, and Claudia could escape the diner for the night.

“Stiles doesn’t work that night - we could bring him along or have Derek hang at our house for the night,” Claudia innocently offered. Talia scowled.

“That’s cheating!” she huffed. “But Stiles is welcome to come, of course.”

“Actually, maybe it’s not cheating,” Claudia suddenly said, eyes focused to the side of where the two of them sat, where the counter stood near the front of the diner. Talia scrunched her eyebrows before turning to focus where her friend was already looking. They were sat at an empty booth, not too far away but just far enough to the side that neither of the boys seemed to notice either of their mothers’ presences. Thank god, Talia thought.

“Oh come on! You always get the same thing,” Stiles whined, pouting at Derek. “At least try a different shake! I promise the peanut butter banana is awesome, Der, swear it.”

Rolling his eyes, Derek smirked at his friend and leaned further against the counter as if in a challenge. “I order the same thing because I always go to the same place,” he said airily, “take me somewhere different and I’ll change it up.”

Stiles paused, eyes narrowing slightly. He cocked his head to the side a bit, leaning onto his hands across from Derek and letting his eyes scan over the other boy slowly as if analyzing the person in front of him to ensure it was indeed Derek Hale.

“Somewhere different?” Stiles confirmed. Derek gave a soft hum, his lips tilting up at the sides slightly. “Somewhere different… for dinner?” Derek rolled his eyes but the smile finally cracked across his lips and he gave a slow nod.

Stiles, in turn, pursed his lips, obviously biting back on a grin of his own. “You tryin’ to get me to ask you on a date, Hale?” he finally asked, unable to bite back on the wide grin that finally took over his face.

“Depends,” Derek drawled, “you actually gonna ask?”

“You know, you could ask me yourself,” Stiles challenged. Derek gave a small bark of laughter.

“I could,” he agreed, “but you asking is more fun.”

“Yea?” Stiles laughed, then rolled his eyes. He leaned fully onto the counter, bracing himself on his elbows. Derek moved in to mirror his position, putting them just a few inches in front of one another. “Alright. Will you go on a date with me, Derek Hale?”

Derek cracked a grin. “It would be my pleasure, Stiles Stilinski.”

Talia and Claudia watched as their sons stood, staring at one another with too wide of grins, acting like stupidly lovestruck teenagers without a care in the world. They watched as they made plans about where to go, when to go, and argued over who would drive.

“So I guess it’s just us on Thursday, then,” Claudia mused, turning back to give her friend a half-smirk.

“Guess so,” Talia chuckled, then groaned almost immediately after. Claudia raised an eyebrow in question. “Peter won the bet,” she amended glumly.

“Really? It’s already been four months?” Claudia moaned, slumping in her chair. “That bastard’s going to be so smug…”

+.+.+

Years later, Derek would ask Stiles if he ever figured out why Derek insisted Stiles ask him out on their first date instead of the other way around. When Stiles had no answer, Derek would kneel down and tell him he wanted to be the one to ask the next big question.

Stiles would then roll his eyes as he retold the story at their wedding, causing everyone to aww and coo. And when Peter (once again) told everyone about how he predicted the union of the two from the start, everyone would laugh (except for Claudia and Talia).

#derek hale x stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski #derek hale #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #derek hale fanfiction #sterek #sterek fics #ao3 #ao3fic #ao3 writer #archive of our own #ao3 fic #teen wolf fic #fic repost #alive hale family #alive claudia stilinski #claudia & talia friendship #i forgot i didnt upload this yet so this is a late repost from ao3!

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undercoverbastard · 1 year

Note

Hello hello!!

I've just read your double cherries fic (which, hot damn, was one of tye best fics I've ever read. It was so cute and the flow and build up was incredible.)

Thought I'd drop this idea by you for your consideration hehe.

In the same vein that Spencer had do idea what was going on with that icarly quote, how do you feel about Derek and Stiles being able to communicate in half sentences, single words, just a movement or gesture and both frustrating and amusing all the Hales. But Claudia and Talia just eat it up because they think it's adorable and they're besties who just want their kids to be happy.

I for one think you could make an incredible drabble or fic out of ut but do with it what you will!

- tae

Ayye! You're the first person to request/submit anything to my inbox - thank you so much💖

and i am SO glad you liked Double Cherries! it was written on a random schpeel and ended up being one of my personal favorites so i genuinely appreciate you reading and enjoying it!!!

i took your idea, ran with it, and can only hope it's somewhat close to what you were looking for! here's the link for my post on my blog and it can also be found on my AO3!

hope you enjoy! and, i know it's a part of my Fast Fix Fics collection meant for my shorter fics and drabbles but... well... it's the longest of the lot so far at 5.5k! i never have a plan or know what I'm doing, so both of us can be surprised by how long i drew it out😀😅 it was fun, though

#request #requests open #fic request #sterek fics #sterek fic rec

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undercoverbastard · 1 year

Text

Speak My Language

As Derek disappeared, the others gathered in the dining room all looked at the empty space he left. They waited until the sound of Derek’s door closing could be heard, the dull drone of video games acting as a distant beat in their ears. It was silent for a couple of minutes before anyone said anything.

“Did they ever finish an actual sentence?” Laura asked, her eyebrows scrunched.

“Stiles, maybe. Derek? Not so much,” Nick hummed, a fond eye roll slipping out as he spoke.

“I think Stiles just speaks Derek,” Cora huffed, an annoyance to her tone. The adults chuckled.

“I think you might be right,” Talia hummed, meeting eyes with Nick as they quietly commiserated over their vague and uncommunicative child. Claudia bumped a foot against Talia’s under the table, a delightful grin hidden behind her cup.

+.+.+ OR: Stiles and Derek don't need actual words to communicate and it drives everyone mad - except for Talia and Claudia, who bask in their sons' alien-like communication skills. Just cutesy, fluffy stuff because that's what the people wanted!

Archive of Our Own Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45311107

Talia huffed and fell into the chair at the dining table, sprawling slightly ungracefully as she did so. A snort to her left caused her to flash her eyes to the side, a fake glare pointed at the occupant of the neighboring chair. In turn, Claudia simply smiled and batted her eyelashes, a muffled bout of laughter pushing back her lips as she slid a freshly poured glass of lemonade toward her friend.

Pursing her lips, Talia straightened up and took the glass. “You’re the worst,” she declared, before downing her drink. Claudia cocked her head, listening intently, before grinning smugly.

“Lie.”

“You’re the worst beta,” Talia growled, flashing her eyes. It was dampened by the tilt of her lips. Claudia mouthed the word ‘lies’, laughing silently as Talia rolled her eyes. Talia could huff and puff all she wanted, everyone knew Claudia was her favorite. They’d been inseparable since Claudia accepted the bite, their lives and families easily becoming blended and mixed indecipherably from one another - Claudia still recounts the story of Stiles being mistaken as one of the Hale siblings and having to threaten to call the Sheriff to confirm the boy was, in fact, her own!

The two friends continued to bicker amicably until others began to pour in. Kids arriving home from school and practice, adults getting off work - the house slowly began to fill and come alive once more.

Claudia and Talia turned from gentle barbs and banter to discussions of business. Before the bite, Claudia had left her job due to getting progressively sick. Talia had immediately demanded she come and work at the family business. It was a bookstore that had the smallest of coffee nooks and menus alongside the books available for browsing, meant to encourage further business and further wandering of the book selections while enjoying a cup of coffee. It was one of several the Hales had and Claudia had initially refused, going as far as to roll her eyes as her brand new alpha flashed her eyes, but she finally relented.

Now, several years later, the bookstore has grown, moved buildings, and now houses a proper coffee bar and bakery section thanks to Claudia’s wizardry with an oven. They had just begun to discuss restocking lists and what items would be needed in the following months for upcoming season changes and holidays when their sons came stumbling in.

Stiles still had on a baggy t-shirt and sweats with ‘TRACK & FIELD’ sprawled on one leg, hair wet as if he’d just dunked it in the sink, while Derek was in his actual clothes worn to school, hair slightly damp after having been properly dried (the difference between the two was unmistakable no matter what it was they were doing or where they were; Talia loved it, Claudia mourned her trainwreck of a child).

“But coach-” Derek continued what seemed to be an ongoing conversation, a growl in his voice, and his eyes hardened, downcast from his friend as they strode into the kitchen.

“Oh yea, Coach Davis is a di - he’s… he’s a jerk ,” Stiles said, minutely stumbling on his words as he abruptly caught sight of the various adults scattered about the dining room and kitchen.

“No, Stiles, you don’t understand. He-” Derek began, but Stiles waved him off with a wave of his hand, eyes rolling as he reached into the fridge with intimate familiarity to procure two Gatorades.

“Yea, no - it sucks when he does that. And his voice ?! Ugh, makes me want to shove a screwdriver in my ear,” Stiles scowled. Derek nodded his agreement, eyebrows still furrowed as he glared at his Gatorade. There was a pause in their conversation, then Stiles pursed his lips as he scanned Derek’s face, shaking his head as if in disbelief. “Don’t take it personally,” Stiles said, bumping his shoulder into Derek’s, casting him an intense look.

It must have done the job, as Derek let his shoulders sag, heaving a low sigh before he cocked his head to the side. He didn’t even speak a word before Stiles was racing out of the kitchen and up the stairs, “Dibs on Mario!”

Derek huffed, glaring towards the ceiling as Stiles clomped up the stairs. He had just made it to the bottom step, about to ascend, before he yelled up at Stiles, “If you set me as Princess Peach, Stiles, I swear to god!”

“Did they ever finish an actual sentence?” Laura asked, her eyebrows scrunched.

“Stiles, maybe. Derek? Not so much,” Nick hummed, a fond eye roll slipping out as he spoke.

“I think Stiles just speaks Derek,” Cora huffed, an annoyance to her tone. The adults chuckled.

+.+.+

“Two more burgers and add a few links, love!” Claudia announced, coming over to gently grip her husband’s arm as he stood manning the grill. It was a bit late in the year for a barbecue but with temperatures sure to start dropping the next month and today being exceptionally bright and sunny, Claudia had convinced her husband that a final barbecue would be an excellent way to spend his rare Saturday off.

John had agreed with a small grumble - his fond smile showing just how unbothered he actually was, and the fact that affection had been pouring off him in waves when Claudia had asked. He was a bit hesitant to just show up to the Hale house, a cooler filled with beers and meat, but Talia had greeted him as soon as his car door had shut, easily hefting up the cooler and marching around to the back of the house with Claudia at her side.

John and Nick shared a half grin and chuckle, mumbled words of their wives' antics shared between them as they followed them back. After that, it was off without a hitch!

The Hale’s had several picnic-style tables in their backyard, ideal for the numerous birthdays, celebrations, and other such occasions they often celebrated at the house with too many bodies to be contained inside. The also had an elaborate, oversized grill off to the side, ready to be put to use at a moment’s notice (John hadn’t let it skip his notice that from his first visit to his second the new addition of the appliance, and right after offhandedly mentioning his penchant for grilling on his days off while having a proper dinner with the Hales after his wife’s introduction into the pack - he kept quiet about it, but it made him smile even now).

“Of course, dear,” John dutifully responded. Claudia grinned at him, bumping into him playfully. Soon they were joined by Nick and Talia, a newly opened beer extended to him by Nick. Talia and Claudia - as usual - easily slipped into banter and conversation. John was of the understanding they were long-lost twins. Nick claimed them to have been dropped off by the same spaceship.

Same thing.

The small, parental bubble created by the four was soon disrupted when Derek came ambling up. He asked - in vague, short terms - about going out with friends bowling later. Nick squinted, mulling over the fact that he still had chores to do.

“It’s with Stiles and some of his friends,” Derek offered, “he’ll be a third wheel, otherwise.” More like a fifth wheel, though Derek didn't feel the need to clarify that precisely.

Talia eyed her son. His heartbeat was even, he smelled neutral - no nerves, no anxiety, no displeasure. Just… there. He was a hard kid to read sometimes. “If Stiles can take you and drop you off, yes. Laura has a late meeting at the school for the yearbook and your father and I have to get up early tomorrow so we’ll be going to bed before you get back more than likely,” she reasoned. Derek nodded.

“Oh,” John piped up, “if you’re going to ask Stiles about a ride, will you ask what he wants? Kid either eats the amount of a toddler or enough fit for a damn horse.” He scowled gently as if bemoaning his child’s peculiar habits (to be fair, Adderall did that! Stiles couldn’t control the fact that he either never felt hunger or felt like a starved man of seven days!).

Derek simply turned to the side, eyes landing on Stiles who was currently engaged with two of Derek’s younger siblings, a heated debate going on about superheroes and comics. Derek rolled his eyes as he tuned in briefly to the conversation.

“Stiles!” he called out, just loud enough to draw the other’s attention. Stiles immediately halted his conversation, turning to meet Derek’s eyes with a tilt of the head. The adults all watched as Derek cocked his head to the side, eyebrows ever so slightly scrunched up. After a minute, Stiles beamed a smile and nodded excitedly. Derek grinned in response then threw a lazy thumb toward the side, aimed at the grill. Stiles squinted and tilted his head side to side. After a second of deliberation, he held up two fingers. Derek jabbed his thumb once more at the grill, with a bit more force, raising an eyebrow. Stiles huffed but nodded, then swiftly turned back to the two younger Hales, picking up right where he left off, the urgency in his tone in regards to their previous discussion back without hesitation.

“Two burgers and a hot dog,” Derek told John as he turned to properly face the man. “Only one with cheese. And he’s fine with giving me a ride there and back.” Derek aimed the last part of his sentence toward his mother. Then he was off, offering a smile as his signal of departure.

The four adults watched as he walked off to grab something from one of the picnic benches, all quiet for a moment.

“I’m not a werewolf, so were there any words in that conversation just now?” John asked a bit hesitantly, eyeing the three next to him.

“Not a single one,” Nick confirmed, exasperation lacing his tone. “I don’t know how they do that.” “Telekinesis,” John mused, a joking tone present despite the crease in his eyebrows and the huff of air. “Or… something .”

Nick hummed, eyes darting between the two boys. “My vote is for aliens,” he declared. John glared at him, grunting about his vote was always for aliens, earning a sharp grin from Nick.

Talia and Claudia shared a look, grinning between themselves. “Or something,” Talia agreed, causing Claudia to jostle her shoulder.

+.+.+

“What’re you two doing?” Laura asked, leaning on the counter that looked into the kitchen. She cast an inquisitive eye at her brother and his friend. At this point, though, both of the pests were her brothers, but claiming blood relation to Stiles felt like crossing a line in Laura’s book - no way she was sharing those genes.

“Baking,” Stiles answered, offering a wide grin to the older girl. Laura rolled her eyes, giving him a dry look in response.

“No shit-”

“Language,” Nick chided from where he sat at the table, journal in hand as he squinted at the writing. Laura paid her father no mind.

“-I meant what are you baking? And what for?” Laura finished, after her father’s rude interruption.

“Cookies, brownies - whatever our heart’s desire,” was Stiles’ loftily given answer, hand flicking in the air dramatically and drawing a small groan from Laura.

“Stiles wants to start working at the bookstore part-time with his mom. We’re practicing,” Derek piped up, answering Laura’s second question with a side of biting sass and a snarky eye roll. She could smell the underlining annoyance coming off her brother. His snark somehow softened the blow, proving he wasn’t properly annoyed by Laura, just by having to answer.

“I want brownies!” Elaine cried. She darted into the kitchen, standing on tiptoes to peer over the counter. Peter came in with a gentle huff, exasperated with his youngest daughter. He was quickly derailed, however, at seeing Stiles and Derek standing at the counter with various baking ingredients spread out.

“I could go for a nice piece of banana bread myself,” Peter hummed, “especially if it's your mother’s recipe your practicing.” He gave a sly grin towards Stiles, who promptly stuck his tongue out at the older man. Peter showed just how mature he was by mirroring the action in kind.

Nick chided the room at large to let ‘the bakers be’, earning a small whine from Stiles and a groan that rumbled in the back of Derek’s throat, only audible to most due to their heightened hearing. Stiles must have heard it from being so close, however, as he threw a grin at Derek in what seemed to be companionship over the teasing titles bestowed upon them. Derek smiled back, making Laura turn around to her father and silently gag dramatically

It was less festive after that. Nick continued to pour over the writing laid out before him, Laura became bored with the two boys and began texting on her phone, Elaine soon took station at the end of the dining table and wrangled her father into coloring with her.

Stiles and Derek had soon completed a batch of cookies - orange cranberry and white chocolate. They either didn’t notice or didn’t care when Cora and Eric slipped down the stairs, both stealing a cookie. Cora quickly went back to thieve two more - one for her father and one for Elaine, smirking smugly at her uncle when Peter threw daggers at her after nodding dramatically at the counter in a request for her to get him one too.

Quiet grunts and grumbles were coming from Nick, playful banter between Cora, Elaine, and Peter, and even Laura was humming under her breath as she typed out messages. The sounds of their own movement and conversations led to a delayed notice of Stiles’ incessant chatter dying off randomly. The boy had been muttering and speaking a mile a minute, gagging over Scott and Allison, whining to Derek about conditioning for track, and pulling up every random thread of conversation his mind stumbled on. Derek would chide in response or answer when prompted but allowed Stiles to lead the conversation - as usual.

It wasn’t until a small hum from the kitchen did everyone else seem to collectively notice the lack of constant background chatter. Eyes flicked to the kitchen and watched as Derek and Stiles each chewed on one of the cookies, somewhat thoughtful (Stiles a bit less so, as he stuffed half a cookie into his mouth without preamble, but - still).

The two met eyes and Stiles gave a small frown. Derek pulled his mouth to the side as if in consideration. Suddenly, Stiles brightened and nodded his head backward, seemingly gesturing something further in the kitchen. Derek huffed but dutifully turned around, yanking a bottle of lemon juice from the fridge and dropping it onto the counter, giving Stiles dramatically raised eyebrows.

In turn, Stiles gave a small smile and tilted his head, a slight pout working its way onto his face.

“This isn’t practicing, this is directing,” Derek grunted as he turned around, grabbing brown sugar from the cabinet and the measuring spoons.

Stiles bumped his shoulder into Derek’s jovially and grinned as he turned to start a new batch of cookies. Derek dutifully handed over measuring cups and ingredients on his side of the counter without prompting, either from memory of the recipe and its steps or in another streak of silent communication with his friend - either was plausible.

“How’d’ya do that?” Elaine piped up, having turned her attention to the two like everyone else. Derek looked at his younger cousin with a raised eyebrow, staying silent. Elaine huffed. “How’d’ya’know what Stiles needed?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “He asked,” Derek answered simply, before turning as if on command and taking the tray from Stiles and popping it into the oven. Stiles wasn’t trusted with ovens quite yet, the Tearful Tragedy of Thanksgiving is still a stark reminder in everyone’s mind (there were lots of tears and an entire bottle of burn gel involved that day). So Derek remained in charge of handling the oven.

“I set it for-" Derek began, waving towards the timer on the oven behind him, but was swiftly cut off by Stiles' nod of agreement.

"Good call, dude. You were right - too crunchy," Stiles nodded, approving of Derek's actions.

The next batch came out a bit thinner and a bit bigger in size, but they were less crunchy - instead softer and less crumbly - and the zest and tang of the orange stood out with the sourness of lemon backing it instead of blending in and hiding behind the sweetness of white chocolate. Everyone voiced their compliments, dragging wide grins and blushing thanks from Stiles and smug smiles and a puffed chest from Derek.

Later, when three batches of cookies, two varieties of brownies, and a (begrudgingly made) loaf of banana bread, Stiles announced his goodbyes. Derek easel kept pace to walk Stiles to his car, grabbing the other boy’s nearly forgotten jacket from a hook by the front door and his phone from the counter as he went, Stiles’ chattering back to full speed. Something about chemistry and ‘one tiny explosion, Derek, one!’.

“I didn’t know Stiles could be quiet,” Elaine said randomly, drawing the looks of everyone else in the room. Peter snorted.

“He can’t be, darling,” Peter drawled, earning a half-hearted look from Nick - though no denial was voiced. Elaine, however, shook her head and fixed her father with a look of exasperation.

“Yes he can!” she insisted. “He asked Derek for the stuff for cookies and I didn’t even hear him! He must’a been real quiet, daddy - my ears are super good.” Elaine nodded, easily becoming entertained with her coloring once more.

“Sure, that’s it,” Cora laughed humorlessly. Laura grunted in agreement.

It was quiet before Laura broke the silence again. “Anyone else starting to get annoyed by it?” she finally asked, glancing around the room. Peter rolled his eyes and scowled gently, Cora groaned and nodded, sharing a commiserating look with her older sister, and Nick simply leaned his head against his hand, shaking it slightly.

They were all exasperated by the two who seemed to communicate telepathically (“Or with alien technology,” Nick piped up, never letting his alien theory die - ever ).

Talia, who had remained in the front living room, half curled up on the couch with a book and a napkin piled with various sweets dropped off by Stiles as he rushed out, simply grinned.

Our boys, she sent the message off to Claudia - who she had delightfully been regaling the happenings to, snickering softly as she retold the mumbled words of her family to her closest friend - who immediately responded. They’re something .

+.+.+

Laughter was filling the house, glasses clinked as various people shared cheers. It was festive and fun, the whole family was together. Kids sprawled out, still in PJs and squealing over the presents they’d opened. The adults were sharing mugs of hot chocolate and lazily picking at a variety of food sprawled out to snack on.

The Hale family had opened presents bright and early, sharing the first few hours of the day with just those in the house and ensuring a more intimate celebration for Derek alone, wanting to embrace his personal celebration of the day just as joyously as the holiday. Soon after, however, others began pouring in. Extended family was coming in from neighboring towns and the county over, a couple of turned ‘wolves joined - some alone, some with a couple of members of their own family - and just moments ago, Claudia and John had joined.

The couple had arrived a bit late, John having been unable to wake up properly until later in the morning after pulling a double the night before in order to get Christmas day off with his family and pack. The only one missing had been Stiles, who - as Claudia mournfully as well as laughingly explained - managed to upend a plate of half-eaten pancake smothered in syrup, thus needing a shower before joining the festivities. He had ushered his parents out the door, insisting he’d drive over himself as soon as he was dressed. He then promptly waddled up the stairs to take a shower.

When the two Stilinskis arrived without their son in tow, Derek immediately asked to go and pick the boy up himself - a giddy glint in his eye at the prospect of being able to take his birthday/Christmas present for a ride. Claudia and Talia shared a look, rolled their eyes, and ushered the teen out the door. The roar of an engine and crunching gravel indicated his departure.

“Your boys are quite the enigma,” Peter hummed, settling into a seat on the couch beside the two women. They pointed matching grins at the man.

“Only to others,” Talia mused, earning a scoff from her husband and a snicker from Laura. It was no secret at this point that all the Hales - as well as one Sherrif Stilinski - had become at a loss for how the two boys communicated. Laura had whined to her mom, saying she never could get a good read on her brother. He was either silent, with broody eyebrows wrapped in stoicism, or he was cocky arrogance, sharp wit, and sharper tongue. Neither gave way to his actual intentions or feelings.

John had bemoaned to the family how despite Stiles’ constant chatter, reading his own son felt like examining a cold case twenty years later - layers of evidence, statements, and testimonies but not a clue how to link it together.

However, Stiles always knew what Derek felt and was two steps ahead, addressing him before Derek could probably even feel the emotions or think the words. And Derek always knew exactly what Stiles was saying or thinking, able to answer questions unasked and snatch items despite Stiles’ entire string of words revolving around how Napoleon was actually average height for his time period and how the phrase made no sense and how common sayings are often butchered and lose proper meaning and people don’t know how to properly articulate meaning (ironic, considering).

Talia and Claudia simply smiled and shrugged as the other family members added to the conversation. John talked about a silent battle of eyebrows (Derek) and arm flapping (Stiles) held in the front lobby of the sheriff’s station somehow led to Stiles begrudgingly shoving a thing of fries into his father’s lunch. Cora narrowed her eyes as she retold the cut-off conversation of single words that led to Stiles ordering for both of them at the ice cream parlor after school when they picked her up a couple of weeks ago. Nick muttered something about glares and switched shirts before they headed out to meet friends at the movies. Even Peter mused about watching Stiles cornering Derek after a basketball game, whispering reassurances and weighing down the older boy with a hand to the neck - Derek’s scent unchanging as he stared at the ground but his heartbeat somehow slowed with each whispered encouragement.

It was a lot of groaning, sighing, and rolling of the eyes as the lot recounted instance after instance where the two seemed to see, hear, or notice something no one else had. It seemed to bother everyone that no one could understand Stiles despite his constant stream of verbal thoughts and no one could read Derek despite the majority having the advantage of heightened senses.

The conversation had drolled out, annoyed huff and side glares still intact when the crunch of gravel and slammed car doors sound just outside. Soon, two new faces were in the living room. Stiles deposited a box of gifts by the mostly vacant tree, ready to be unwrapped by the members of the Hale family once their own morning celebration had been cleaned up to make proper room.

When he returned to Derek’s side, both Claudia and Talia leaned forward, suddenly intensely interested in the two boys. Stiles began to fidget, blushing lightly, as he always did when attention was drawn to him without provocation. Derek only tilted his lips up ever so slightly more at the attention, though he made no other move in demeanor.

“Oh my god,” Claudia gasped, hands clapping together and drawing a wave of quiet over the others.

“ Mom ,” Stiles hissed quietly. Derek’s scent turned a bit syrupy, a tinge of affection and joy slipping out that everyone immediately noticed now that they were zeroed in on the two boys.

“I thought I’d have to stage an intervention at the rate this was going,” Talia hummed, earning a sharp look from her son and a moan of betrayal from Stiles whose own scent shouted of mortification and embarrassment.

Everyone else was at a loss, now staring at the two mothers who were at the literal edges of their seats. The two paid no mind, both grinning wildly and staring at the younger boys and giving off waves of excitement.

“Did we miss something?” Peter bit out a bit hotly, raising an eyebrow at the two women. Claudia promptly waved him off, huffing out what sounded strikingly similar to ‘bastard’ under her breath and Talia shot her brother a look of defiance.

“Isn’t it obvious?!” Claudia chirped, now standing and moving towards her son, who was vehemently waving her off and already protesting. “They’ve finally wisened up, the dense idiots!”

That cleared nothing up, as proven by the round of bewildered looks around the room.

Talia stood and joined her friend, clapping a hand down on her own son’s shoulder who slightly pursed his lips, the slightest twinge of embarrassment tinting his person now. “We’ve been waiting for this,” she said, a twinkle in her eye despite the calm tone she portrayed. Similar to their sons, Talia was an air of grace compared to Claudia’s exuberant personality. It was easy to see where the two boys got their traits from.

“You make it sound like we eloped or something, christ,” Stiles mumbled, ducking his head away from his mother’s gentle cooing. Talia hadn’t let him get far, sliding her hand off Derek to cup the younger boy’s cheek.

“Not yet,” Talia amended.

“ Mom ,” Derek growled, his embarrassment now openly filling the air as he became a bit wide-eyed, eyes darting down much like Stiles’ had.

“We’re just dating!” Stiles cried. “There was no proposal! No wedding! No eloping!”

“You’re dating?!” Laura yelled.

“Proposal?” John exclaimed as Nick muttered, “Wedding?”

“Ugh,” Cora huffed.

Other cries, exclaims, and other such reactions were heard, further smothering the two boys as they both reddened in the cheeks and further cast their looks downwards. Stiles gave into Talia gripping his neck, a prideful stance as she maneuvered as if to show him off to the rest of the room. Derek begrudgingly allowed Claudia to coo over him and pet his hair in frantic motions, though she was undeterred when she caught the twitch of a smile and the flowery scent of petals from delight from the boy in front of her.

“How could you possibly tell they were dating?” Nick finally asked. Laura made a noise of agreement and even Eric looked inquisitive as he eyed his older brother with glee, enjoying Derek’s pinked cheeks and lingering embarrassment. Even those who seemed disgruntled ( Cora ) showed piqued interest in their eyes.

“Isn’t it obvious!” Claudia reiterated her previous statement, waving between them. Talia hummed her agreement. “Quite,” she said aloud.

“Maybe you two should take over for my investigations team,” John grumbled, looking a bit pinched in the face still. He loved the Hales and had taken on all of the Hale children as his own, even being dubbed ‘Uncle Sheriff’ by Elaine and a more correct title of ‘Uncle John’ by Eric at a young age, but still. He was a father - he was allowed to be disgruntled.

“Just look at them! Lovesick lil pups, the both of ‘em,” Claudia exclaimed, finally returning to her seat - grin never once leaving her face.

“It seems our pack is ever-growing,” Talia simply said, moving to follow Claudia back to her seat.

“I already was pack,” Stiles immediately pouted. Derek moved to squeeze at his shoulder in reassurance, causing Stiles to turn and smile at him. Derek immediately mirrored the gesture.

And, perhaps for the first time, everyone in attendance could clearly see it - could read them both. Stiles’ wide, frantic eyes softened, his lips curving in a gentle way that was rarely seen with his sharp, wide-framed grins and quick remarks. Derek’s smile became more defined, almost emboldened, and his stance became a bit straighter, angling open towards the other boy as if in pride and excitement.

It was the first time reading either of them was as easy as pie. Stiles was softer from his usual sharp demeanor but despite the way he curled into Derek it was also obvious in the way his hand curled around the dark-haired boy’s wrist that he was putting a small wall in front of him, defending him in a way that only Stiles seemed able despite his gentle appearance. And Derek got a bolder look to him, his looseness that is always hard to pin down becoming sharper with his entire person also relaxing and somehow letting down his guard to let Stiles in completely without concern of outside influence.

They balanced. Taking bits and pieces of one another to ensure they were well rounded but never leaving one need or one part just for the other to shoulder. It wasn’t 50/50, it was each of them taking turns - 80/20, 40/60. Finding the spots to fill the other in when needed and pushing them to embrace the parts they had at any given moment.

“You two are going to be disgusting.”

Both Stiles and Derek slipped into their normal demeanors to glare at Cora, who promptly fell into giggles before urging Stiles closer to try the cookies she made for Derek’s birthday. Though she was quick to be the first to show disgust at the two and be disgruntled over their weird means of communication, everyone knew Stiles was her favorite. Stiles was adamant he was her favorite to abuse and mock but the teasing grin that easily slipped on his face as he jokingly gave a running commentary of the cookie-eating experience proved he was just as fond of the younger Hale.

From there, it easily slipped into a normal day of family and celebration. More food was eaten, and the Hale siblings teasingly snapped their teeth and flashed eyes at Stiles and the younger family members to produce squawks (Stiles) and laughter (everyone else). Wrapping paper and presents from before were cleared from the floor just for it to be once more littered with new paper and items as everyone exchanges gifts with those who they hadn’t shared the morning with.

Stiles and Derek engaged with the others, Stiles becoming a jungle gym for many of the kids as usual and engaging in snarky banter with Peter while juggling three energetic tiny werewolves. Derek sassed Laura and rolled his eyes at Eric’s teasing about his earlier blushing embarrassment. But they still drifted towards one another as they tended to do.

Derek easily tossed Stiles’ gift to Nick over when Stiles shouted a short “Hey!”. And Stiles quietly slid a mug of hot chocolate with an absurd amount of marshmallows into Derek’s hand, somehow knowing he needed a pick me up without ever asking. No one commented or grumbled, most ignored it in the chaos of activity, but both Claudia and Talia took silent note, smiling to themselves.

Later, when everything was settling down and everyone had their fill of food and was now playing with new toys and presents, chasing one another around the house, or enjoying another fill of their mug, Claudia leaned into Talia who she had been curled into slightly in the corner of the couch, observing the flurry of activities, and whispered in her ear. “I vote for spring.”

Sighing, Talia shook her head. “They’ll definitely choose fall.”

Whoever heard them didn’t really comprehend what they meant, but the playful glint in their shared look confirmed they knew what was being discussed. Their sons weren’t the only ones who could communicate in half words and subtle gestures. They also wouldn’t be the only ones planning their wedding.

Claudia and Talia already had a year’s leg up on them in that department, after all.

#derek hale x stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #derek hale fanfiction #stiles x derek #sterek #high school au #same age au #alive hale family #alive claudia stilinski #ao3 #ao3fic #ao3 writer #archive of our own

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undercoverbastard · 1 year

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Derek: who’s in charge here?

Stiles: well, usually that’s whoever yells the loudest.

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undercoverbastard · 1 year

Text

“Do you like that show?”

“I certainly enjoy the self indulgent version of it I wrote in my head after it began to disappoint me.”

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undercoverbastard · 1 year

Text

If being friends with a bunch of fic writers has taught me one thing, it’s that not a damn one of you can finish a fic without starting another halfway through. Your minds

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undercoverbastard · 1 year

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No Roses

“Oh, there you are! Sorry, I took so long, you wouldn’t believe the traffic.”

Derek froze up momentarily as a hand gently curled over his shoulder, putting a small barrier between him and the girl sitting beside him. Soon after, a mess of brown hair was peeking over his shoulder and a blinding white smile was beaming at him. Compared to the unnamed woman, the man now filling his line of sight seemed like an actual ray of sunshine. His smile was wide and open, his voice was light in tone but loud in volume, and he didn’t have a single lick of arousal tinging his person.

+.+.+ OR: that classic meet-cute au where stiles saves derek from someone who never learned the word no - wolfbane-laced beers, giggling, and rambling also occur. sober derek is going to be embarrassed, but at least he got a date!

Archive of Our Own Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45090202

Derek bit the inside of his cheek, choking down a growl rising in his throat. The bar was a bit loud, the crowd a bit rowdy, but he still didn’t want to draw any further attention. The attention from the giggling blonde was already more than enough and was slowly driving him to insanity.

“Aw, come on babe, lighten up!” the woman teased, flicking a piece of hair over her shoulder as she brushed her shoulder against his, tugging her bottom lip between her lips. She was beautiful, her red lipstick dark and glinting, a sight that should have been irresistible. If anything, it made Derek want to be sick. Because despite her artfully tousled hair, her skin-tight, figure-accentuating outfit, her perfect makeup, and her purring voice she didn’t understand ‘no’. She could have been a literal goddess who decided to deign Derek’s lowly lifeform with her presence for the evening and he still wouldn’t be interested because she outright ignored any and all forms of no (no thanks, I’m not interested, not tonight, no, no, NO – nothing got through).

Derek tightened his grip on his beer, deciding he would just leave. He had opted to stay and finish his beer. He had slipped in a bit of the wolfsbane-laced powder that Laura got her hands on and he was actually feeling a buzz - to leave it felt like a waste, especially with how hard it was to get that stuff. But he was realizing he’d rather waste his one chance in two months to get drunk than deal with the blonde before him a second longer.

“Oh, there you are! Sorry, I took so long, you wouldn’t believe the traffic.”

The woman scoffed, and the man leaned back slightly before snapping his eyes to her. He gave a mock gasp, just a tad exaggerated but seemingly genuine nonetheless. “Oh! I am so sorry - I was just so excited to see my boyfriend! I didn’t mean to crowd you,” he apologized, his voice sincere and kind. Derek wanted to snort when the woman’s eyes widened and darted between the two. Without wasting a second, she was moving away from the bar and mumbled a soft apology as she darted away. Her arousal was quickly overtaken by embarrassment.

Derek couldn’t help but smirk.

“Ah, sorry man,” the guy said, voice suddenly sheepish as he withdrew his hand and scratched at the side of his neck a bit awkwardly. “I saw her hanging over you the last few minutes and you looked like you were about to pop a blood vessel with how tense you were. I just wanted to-” he cut off, waving his hand, then his eyes widened and he stared at his hand, “oh god! Oh, I just wanted to help but I totally hung all over you without even asking. Oh fuck, I’m just as bad, huh? Shit, man, I really wasn’t thinking, I am so-”

Derek waved off the rest of the rambling, the other man’s voice seemingly increasing in pace despite already being one of the quickest-paced conversations Derek had ever heard.

“You’re fine,” he assured, “and thank you - for getting her off my back. I… I appreciate it.”

Despite his hesitancy, Derek smiled in satisfaction when the man next to him seemed to beam with pride, his smile wide and genuine. Still, not a lick of arousal - just an air of contentment and happiness. It made Derek relax properly - albeit minutely - for the first time that night.

“Oh, awesome! Glad to help. Oh! I’m Stiles, by the way - should’ve probably introduced myself first before claiming the title of your boyfriend,” the guy joked, holding a hand out toward Derek. He easily took it and gave it a shake.

“Derek. Derek Hale.”

“Well, Derek - Derek Hale - can I get you another beer? If not as an apology for throwing myself all over you while trying to save you from someone doing that exact same thing, then in commiseration for people not taking a hint,” Stiles asked, his eyes searching Derek’s a bit more intensely. His scent changed ever so slightly from content and happy to ever so slightly nervous. Derek could almost feel the uptick in Stiles’ heartbeat in his own chest.

Derek assessed Stiles for a minute, doing a sweep over the other. He really should turn the offer down. Finish off his beer. Leave. But…

But Stiles. He was… something else. He was cute, that wasn’t arguable, he was tall and lean, packing a good couple of layers of muscle hidden underneath his baggy flannel. He had on a pair of jeans that left little to the imagination and his shirt was plain but hugged his chest, cutting down low enough to display his collarbones in an almost taunting fashion. He was attractive, very much so, but he took the focus away from his looks with his actions. His fingers were drumming on the bar’s edge, his foot was alternating from a jiggle to a weird heel-toe kick, constantly in motion. Like the blonde before, he was biting at his lip, but unlike the blonde Stiles didn’t do it in a seductive manner - he did it in a contemplative and considering one, moving his jaw with the action and zoning out a bit as his jaw shifted to the side.

He was attractive. Had every reason to be cocky and flirtatious. Could easily talk his way into someone buying him a few drinks or into someone’s bed. His confidence from the earlier confrontation proved him to be quick-witted and snarky. And yet - here he was.

Apologizing for touching Derek without asking. Joking instead of teasing. Shyly introducing himself. Asking to buy Derek a drink. Smelling like nerves and happiness instead of lust and desire.

Derek wasn’t able to turn that down; Stiles was the perfect combination of ‘too good to be true’ and ‘wanting what you can’t have’ in the weirdest and most convoluted of ways. So no one could blame him when Derek quirked a half smile, nodded his head once, and said, “I’d like that.”

+.+.+

After ordering several rounds of drinks for them both and striking up a conversation at the bar, the two men eventually found their way to one of the smaller booths set up along the perimeter of the room. It was a bit more private and allowed them to talk more freely and the bartender - Ashley - threatened to test out her new mace on them if they didn’t make room for ‘actual paying customers’. The triumphant smirk painted on her lips after they moved only served to further prove she hadn’t been lying.

“No, no! I swear, the man had to have daydreamed over 100 different ways to kill me before the end of the semester,” Stiles laughed, hand flailing a bit as he finished off the tale of how he and his best friend nearly blew up their high school chemistry classroom. Apparently, Stiles was not one of Mr. Harris’ favorite students - Derek was starting to see why, though.

In turn, Derek chuckled lowly, head tipping down. He was sliding his latest beer bottle in a circle between his hands, his head just fuzzy enough to let him relax a bit more fully and be a bit less wound up. He became more tactile like this and needed to have something to ground himself, something to touch and hold. And dammit, he refused to freak Stiles out by holding his hand under the dingy corner table like some middle schooler. So fondling a beer bottle it was!

Looking up, Derek caught Stiles watching him with fond eyes, his teeth once more pulling at his bottom lip as he zoned out momentarily as if mentally caught up. When he snapped back to the present, his already alcohol-flushed skin darkened as he noticed Derek’s lazily raised an eyebrow.

“Just-” he began, smelling of nerves again, “you look nice. When you laugh, I mean. I like it.”

Derek sobered up for a second, eyebrows both raised, and looked at the younger man in shock. Stiles seemed even more anxious and his embarrassment-tinged anxiety began to fog up Derek’s airways. Finally, he grinned at Stiles a bit more openly, bowing his head as he leaned forward.

“I like it too - when you make me laugh. You’re good at it,” Derek offered. The alcohol was loosening him up, letting words flow a bit more freely. They must have made enough sense either way, as Stiles grinned cheekily at him and leaned further into him, minimizing the space between them.

It wasn’t until an hour or so later when the last call was being announced and the music began to wind down, that it went any further. Both Derek and Stiles were tumbling out of the bar, Derek pulling out his phone to see about calling an Uber. Stiles was a bit quiet, though he continued to follow Derek down the sidewalk a bit away from the bar until they were far enough from the stream of patrons to count as privacy.

Clearing his throat, Stiles grabbed Derek’s attention and gave a crooked half grin.

“So,” he started, swaying as he spoke, nerves back in full force, “I know this whole night started because you were being harassed by someone else’s advances and I realize how backward it is for me to ask this considering but- you know- the past couple hours and just- okay. So here’s the thing; you’re stupidly attractive and sarcastic and funny and I really liked spending time with you so… would you maybe want to do this again? Like a date?”

Derek blinked, his brain still intoxicated plentily enough from the plethora of wolfsbane-laced beers he ingested. It took a minute for him to process the word vomit Stiles had just offered up and it apparently had taken an actual minute or two because by the time he was looking Stiles in the eye again, the guy was looking to be about five seconds away from throwing himself into traffic to avoid the conversation.

“A… date?” Derek asked slowly, cocking his head. “With me?”

Stiles squinted at him. He had drank a fair bit as well but Derek was willing to bet he wasn’t as intoxicated as Derek seemed to have gotten himself. He really had let his guard down.

“Yes,” Stiles spoke slowly, “ya’know, a date. Dinner, movies, walk in the park - pick you up, worry about what to wear for five hours, flowers - the whole nine yards. Un… unless you don’t… want that? It was a question- an offer. You can say no, like, no pressure, dude. I just thought we-”

Derek didn’t remember raising his hand but he must have since it was now clamped loosely over Stiles's mouth. Stiles, who was staring at Derek with wide eyes, eyebrows dancing a complicated dance across his forehead and causing Derek to bite down on a bout of laughter.

“Yes. I’d like that. Go on a date with you,” Derek finally answered. He dropped his hand from Stiles’s mouth before pausing and cocking his head to the side again, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “But can I veto the flowers?”

Stiles seemed to pause in his actions before kicking back into gear after a short pause, an exaggerated gasp leaving his lips. “Absolutely not! Derek, the flowers are a necessity,” Stiles insisted. Derek rolled his eyes.

“Flowers imply posh. I don't do posh.”

“Fine, what if I take you to a diner? Furthest from posh we can get.”

“And the movie?”

“The shittiest comedy we can find, obviously.”

“What about the walk?”

“I lied about the walk. But we for sure sit for hours. Sitting is definitely on the schedule.”

Derek paused, looking at the other a bit curiously before letting a grin take over his face. Stiles had been speaking with vehement seriousness, his face the vision of solemnity, his tone monotonous and sincere. How a date could sound absolutely disastrous as well as charming was beyond Derek's comprehension but he wasn't about to turn down what sounded like the best date he'd probably have in the past year (possible years, plural, if he was being honest).

“So - diner, shitty comedy, lots of sitting followed by a walk back to the car, and the prettiest bunch of roses an underpaid sheriff’s desk clerk’s salary can afford. Sound like a deal?” Stiles asked, hand raised, a cheeky smile now taking over his face.

“No roses,” Derek countered, raising his own hand. Stiles pursed his lips.

“Fine... Tulips then!” he declared, clasping Derek’s hand in his own. Stiles’s grin only grew as Derek groaned.

Despite his quiet refusals and his exasperated glares, Derek couldn’t deny the pleasure swooping through his stomach. Sure, Sober Derek might be a bit mortified by how easily Tipsy Derek agreed to a date. He may want to kill Tipsy Derek for the way he laughed (giggled) at Stiles’s flailing and determined explanation of why everyone deserved flowers and how it was part of his duties as the asker of the first date.

But Derek knew he’d be equally pleased with his plans with Stiles for Tuesday night once sobered.

#ao3 #ao3fic #ao3 writer #stiles stilinski #derek hale #sterek #stiles x derek #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #derek hale x stiles stilinski #derek hale fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #archive of our own #backup

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