So I had this thought this morning and I don’t THINK I’ve read this premise (but there are four and a half billionty Sterek fics in AO3 so probably it has been written lol)…
Sheriff gets shot on duty.
(Are you still here? Good. Like I’d ever kill John, please, not happening. Sheriff Hotass lives forever!)
But it’s bad enough that he’s in hospital for a good while and then requires physical therapy.
His physical therapist? Derek.
So Stiles, who is An Adult, basically lives at the hospital for the time that Sheriff is an in-patient, and due to Lack Of Sleep and Stress and Worry/Severe Anxiety, he sees Derek the first time and proposes marriage and/or life partnership.
Derek sees this guy with the dark circles and pale skin and shaky hands and KNOWS how Stiles is feeling (he knows Sheriff’s wife died many years ago) but he also thinks, due to the backpack spilling papers and books all over the floor, that Stiles is in high school (and also Stiles has resting baby face, so).
So Derek laughs it off, says he’ll take a ring pop as an engagement ring, but not just ANY ring pop, it has to be… Watermelon flavored or whatever.
Stiles’ brain goes offline for a minute or an hour, and resorts to random factoids about the candy industry while watching Derek put the Sheriff through a round of PT that doesn’t look like much more than gentle manipulation but has Sheriff gritting his teeth and sweating bullets (haha, Stiles’ brain, too soon!) and swearing under his breath.
And then Derek keeps coming back at the same time every day, and every day Stiles has a different flavor ring pop, and it’s cute and a “joke” but it’s never watermelon flavored, and also Derek continues to think Stiles is A Kid.
Until…
The day comes for Sheriff to be released and Stiles and Sheriff are arguing about something when Derek comes in for Sheriff’s final in-hospital PT session.
Sheriff: Would you tell my kid he needs to stop using up all his vacation time on me? Even my DOCTOR (significant glare at Stiles) agrees I’m capable of surviving on my own now.
Derek: Vacation time?
Stiles: It’s MY vacation time, and Derek understands that our honeymoon will have to wait until I’ve built up more. He’s understanding like that.
(Stiles hands Derek another Ring Pop that Derek puts in his pocket to give to the kid with the severely shattered femur in Room 14 without even looking at it because the package was purple, so probably grape flavored. It’s like Stiles isn’t even trying, but Derek feels a bit bad that this kid is spending all his allowance on candy for Derek that he ends up giving away to other kids…)
Sheriff: I know you FBI agents mostly just stand around with your thumbs up your asses, but even THAT requires you being present to do so.
Stiles: *significant eye roll* Hey, at least we don’t volunteer to be the target for two-bit gas station robbers to shoot at.
Derek: FBI?
Stiles and Sheriff: Huh?
Derek: Aren’t you a student? *a bit panicky, because suddenly Stiles is An Adult and Derek’s brain is having problems redefining him and his place in the world*
Stiles: *eye roll* Really? Did Melissa pay you to say that shit? I go undercover at a high school ONE TIME…
Derek: How old are you?
Stiles: 27.
Derek: Oh. I gave all the ring pops to kids in pediatrics.
Sheriff: *starts laughing, which fucking hurts, oww*
Stiles: I am Offended. You must take me out to dinner to make up for it.
Derek: *actually taking a moment to look at Stiles, who is cute and has been there for his dad every minute of the day for weeks* I only have enough time for coffee for a FBI agent, sorry. *is actually flirting now, which is vastly different from humoring an underage boy*
Stiles: Oh, is it gang up on the FBI agent day?
Derek: Well, all those investigating skills and you still haven’t found me a watermelon ring pop.
Sheriff: *fist bumps Derek*
Stiles: *narrows eyes* Fine. But if I bring you a watermelon one, you’re legally obligated to go to dinner with me.
~later that day/week~
Derek is waiting in the coffee shop on his day off when Stiles enters. He’s well-rested, cleaned up, and wearing a suit jacket because he’s going back to FBI office after this.
He looks HAWT.
Derek is the one nearly tripping over his tongue now, which is made worse when Stiles pulls a watermelon ring pop out of his pocket and drops to one knee.
Derek’s not sure whether his immediate “Yes” is to dinner… or the rest of his life.
(Spoiler: It starts with dinner but ends up being The Rest of His Life barely a year later.)
(Sheriff makes a full recovery but retires three years later when Stiles and Derek adopt their first child.)
(Yes, Derek is a werewolf. He leeches little bits of pain from patients when it won’t interfere with recovery.)
Stiles knows he’s in trouble when he invites the Beacon Hills Fire Department into his third grade classroom and he can’t stop staring at a certain scruffy fireman. But after the third graders take a field trip to the fire station and participate in the fire department’s holiday canned food drive, Stiles can’t ignore his crush any longer.
This year’s Sterek Big Bang i did with the wonderful Suchfun o/ The fic is very lovely, and I had a lot of fun drawing for it – sadly RL was way too busy to manage something more polished. Go read it, it’s worth it ♥
Stiles snorts. “Food,” he mocks. “Derek you have like seven Hungry Man frozen dinners in your freezer and half a jug of milk in your fridge for the stale cereal in your cabinet.” The look that accompanies his list holds way more gotcha than Derek thinks it deserves.
Still, he can feel the tips of his ears turning red as he crosses his arms. “Food,” he insists, adding a glare that is completely ignored.
Hey! Still working my way through these prompts, so sorry that this took a while, thanks for the awesome prompt. This is BAMF!Stiles who rescues injured!Derek, but then Derek has to take care of him a little too. With a side order of snark– oh… and there’s only one bed! Hope you enjoy!
Cradling his stomach, Derek can feel the slipperiness of something he doesn’t want to even think about, something that definitely shouldn’t be on the outside, now clutched in the curl of his fists as he tries to hold it in. He doesn’t need to look down to know his hands are slick with his own blood. His breath comes out in short, stabbing gasps, chest burning, water leaking from his eyes as he scrunches them tight shut, his whole body curled over to protect himself.
He can smell them on the wind. Cheap cologne, tobacco and liquor– nitroglycerin and wolfsbane.
Fucking hunters. Fucking hollow point bullets.
His skin feels too tight, he wants to scream. Needs to howl. But he’s deep in the preserve, the pack are miles away and he’s all alone. He staggers forward on shaky legs as another bullet zings past him and takes a chunk out of a nearby tree. Derek throws himself to the ground arms still wrapped tight around his midsection and tries to hide in a nearby thicket, scrabbling back on his haunches until his back hits the rough bark of a tree.
There’s nothing he can do, he can feel the wolfsbane seeping into his system, fucking with his head, his co-ordination, his ability to heal. Any minute now he’s going to lose consciousness and then it’s game over.
Then the hunters win.
Wincing, he lets go of his stomach long enough to reach into the pocket of his jeans with one hand and ease his phone out. If this is it. If it’s all over for him now, there’s only one person he wants to reach out to.
Another bullet zips past him, and he hears the sound of heavy footsteps clomping towards him, treading down bracken and crunching through leaves and twigs.
One of the bastards starts to hum, it takes Derek a second to recognize the tune: who’s afraid of the big bad wolf.
Fuckers.
Hand trembling violently he swipes through his contacts until he finds who he’s looking for and begins to type out a message. As the footsteps get closer still he inhales shakily, staring down at it, then hits send.
With nothing but the sound of his own shallow breathing and the blood rushing in his ears he looks up. Five hunters tower over him. Their leader, a heavy set man with dirty blond hair, grins nastily and raises his gun.
“Any last words?”
“Fuck you,” Derek hisses and closes his eyes.
Next moment there’s a crack, a sickening tear, a sound like the fabric of reality is literally being ripped in two, and the smell of sulfur rises on the air. Derek’s eyes fly open, in time to see the hunters turn as one to face the source of the noise, their guns raised.
He tries to lift his head, to get one last glimpse, but he can’t, the world is closing in and the last thing Derek hears as he tips over the edge into unconsciousness is a familiar voice snarling, “Surprise motherfuckers.”
There’s the sound of a loud explosion, gunfire, and after that, Derek doesn’t remember anything else.
“Who … who am I to wed?”A small flash of guilt covered
the king’s features before he was able to recover.
“Your union will join
the royal families—joining our family to the Hales.”
Dread and sorrow sunk in Stiles’ stomach as he closed his eyes.There
was only one Hale left unharmed by the great fire that nearly wiped out
the entire royal family—the Dread Wolf of Triskelia, Crowned King Derek
Hale.
|-An awesome commission for an awesome fic! go read it guys!!!-|
“Derek, c’mon, let me have a pizza roll.” Stiles reaches over and tries to grab one from the plate on Derek’s lap, only to be thwarted when Derek moves them out of his reach.
“Mine,” Derek says, stuffing one into his mouth. "My house, my food.“
“But – you’re an alpha.”
Derek eyes Stiles and shrugs. "So?“
"So you’re meant to – provide for the pack and stuff. Be a giver and a –” Stiles huffs and reaches over again. "Gimme a pizza roll!“
"Nope.”
“It’s like you think I won’t climb on you,” Stiles says.
“You could try,” Derek says dismissively, grabbing the handful of pizza rolls left on the plate and pushing them all in his mouth.
theproblemwithstardust 