“Hi, there, Sheriff Hale,” Stiles says, smirking at Derek and walking closer, and it takes Derek every bit of control he has to not step back.This was not what he expected to find when he got called in at two a.m. for a double murder.
“What are you doing at my crime scene,” Derek says, sending up a silent thanks up to whichever deity made his words come out flatly, in control. He hasn’t seen Stiles in years, since John retired and Derek got elected as his successor. Since the night Derek, high on the town choosing him, thought that now Stiles might–
“Don’t tell me this doesn’t remind you of old times,” Stiles says, taking measured steps closer still, and Derek can feel his skin prickle under Stiles’ steady gaze. He’d feel less naked if Stiles gave him a blatant once over.
“I’m not your dad,” Derek says, ignoring the fact that his deputies and the ME have all stopped working to watch them. “I won’t tolerate you snooping around.”
“Yeah, well, I guess you’ll have to,” Stiles says, taking a final step that brings him into kissing distance. Derek feels the old want unfurl in his stomach, spread through his veins, and he holds his breath as Stiles’ eyes dart down to his mouth and back to his eyes. “Since I’m the new assistant DA.”
second fic for the @sterekreversebang challenge 😀 This was so interesting! it’s so nerve cracking waiting for someone to claim your art!! But I loved it! @thisnewjoe was great! kept me in the loop and was so so kind!
Summary: Stiles is a talented spark looking to test and develop his magical abilities to fix a problem from the past. Derek is with the rest of the Hales in a forest far from home, both isolated and protected from the world they once knew. When they meet, they find the other is who they have been looking for all those years. If they can figure out how their connection works, they have a good chance of making things right in the past and the future….. READ Magic, and the Ways Home HERE
Stiles never knows much about the jobs he takes. It’s not surprising, the producers and writers want to keep as much of their masterpiece a secret as humanly possible. So when Stiles walks onto a set he often looks a little lost and tries to keep out of the way until someone inevitably finds him and tells him what he’s supposed to do.
This job is no different. The set is in one of the fancy studios that Hollywood is famous for, towering false walls and a green screen in another area for who even knows what. Stiles doesn’t even know what the movie is called, just knows a subsidy of Paramount has hired him to double for Grant Gustin. When he had been told that precious little detail he had to stop himself from preening in front of his manager. Grant was not a bad looking man and was best known for the Chaser series that Stiles loved.
Stiles was ready for this to be amazing. Not only was he going to double for the handsome love interest of one of his favorite book series but the leading man was none other than Derek Hale. You could call Stiles a fan, Lydia called him a lunatic. So, he might have searched his IMDb for a list of his appearances … and then proceeded to watch them all. That just meant he could appreciate good acting!
“On your left!” Stiles steps to his right and turns to watch a rather frazzled looking man rush past him with a tray of coffees from Starbucks. He shakes his head in sympathy for all the poor little interns trying to carve a place in the movie industry one latte at a time. He follows the sound of a booming voice calling for “more energy!” and “you need to get your head into it, Hale!”
The set includes the rafters of what might be an industrial building and a green screen behind and below it. They will likely edit in the rest of the shot to cover the fact that the actors are landing on soft pads rather than gritty concrete. Stiles watches over the shoulder of a few stage hands to see a very fine ass all caught up in a harness. That truly amazing rump belongs to none other than Derek Hale who is talking with the director, gripping his replica Glock. A makeup artist touches up his artfully dripping blood on his forehead and all Stiles can do is stare in amazement.
“Alright everyone, take a few minutes and we’ll come back to this,” the director calls to the group that slowly disperses around Stiles. Derek hands off the Glock and undoes the harness around his hips with skillful precision. Before he knows it, Stiles is the only one left standing around when Derek looks up to walk off set. He can feel his cheeks flush and busies himself with a piece of nonexistant lint on his shirt, hoping he’ll be ignored. That’s usually how the movie stars treated him and honestly that would be better than making a fool of himself in front of his celebrity crush.
“You’re new aren’t you?” The voice catches him by surprise and makes Stiles jump. He wants to evaporate in his own skin (wow, that was a gross mental image) when he realizes Derek Hale is just a few feet away from him. Oh, he’s addressing Stiles!
“Uh, yeah, first day-”
“Great. Whatever. Make yourself useful and get me a black coffee with two sugars, yeah?” The ‘yeah’ is obviously a mock and Stiles feels a spark of anger ignite in his gut. Of course he knew it was possible Derek was a complete asshole, but he had his hopes, you know? He’s about to open his mouth when the idea strikes him. He smiles, saccharine sweet.
“Of course, I’d love to.” Derek just rolls his eyes and walks away. Stiles watches him – well, his ass – as he goes to his chair where they have a table set up for his props and some snacks. He makes his way to the coffee booth he had seen while walking to set and tries to reign in the smirk while he orders the coffee. He’s practically giddy while he dumps two packets of “sugar” into the coffee and stirs it nicely, making sure it all dissolves.
He walks back to Derek’s table and hands over the coffee with a smile and a “enjoy”. Derek doesn’t even really look at him, just glances over to take the coffee and continues to talk to the makeup artist next to him. Stiles backs up a few yards but keeps his eyes on Derek as he raises the cup to his lips and takes his first big sip.
The face is priceless and Stiles wishes he were legally allowed to take pictures while on set but alas, the memory will be held precious in his mind. Derek looks down at the coffee like it personally tried to poison him before his glare snapped up and searched out Stiles. He’s just smirked with a little wiggle of his eyebrows when, like a planned entrance in a movie, a familiar voice calls out –
“Stilinski! Is that you?” Stiles turns to look at the stunt coordinator, an old friend from stunt school, and reaches out to pull him into a quick hug. “You should come meet Grant. He’s super psyched to meet the man doing all his stunts.”
Stiles turns to look at Derek one last time and, bless the good Lord, it is perfection. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lips pressed tight, not confused but realizing that he’s made an ass of himself. Stiles enjoys it far too much to be a twenty six year old man.
Before he turns back to his friend he catches Derek mouthing you’re going to regret that. Stiles just sends him a wink and tries to calm the butterflies in his stomach.
Derek isn’t great with people. Not since he was a teenager and he lost his entire family. Now he’s a bit of a recluse, not that it stops the curious gossips from talking in a small town.
The late-night supermarket across town put in self check-outs. Derek is more than willing to drive the twenty minutes across town rather than go to the store down the street in order to avoid the awkward checkout conversation wherein most cashiers inappropriately flirt with him, ask odd invasive questions like ‘how are you?’ or ‘having a good day?’
Stiles, the young night manager working crap hours for worse pay to put himself through college, is oddly enamoured by the hulking, leather-clad mess of angry eyebrows that comes in every Friday night half an hour before close to shop. The best part of his week. Totally worth missing out on the parties and wild nights out just to watch Derek argue with the self-checkout and struggle to weigh tomatoes.
Teasing; well, it’s a form of endearment.
Hope you don’t mind me dabbling a little with this!
“There’s not a single god damn item in the bagging area, you utterly unhelpful, hypersensitive, overly-critical heap of scrap,” Stiles heard from where he was crouched down behind the Service Desk next to the self-serve checkouts.
“Hey, don’t talk to Bucky like that,” he said, standing up straight and smirking at where Sexy Bearded Nightshopper was scowling at the one bag on the bagging area that has a dozen tomatoes in. “He’s trying his best.”
“I wouldn’t have to if the stupid thing would just– Bucky?” he finished incredulously.
“Bucky,” Stiles confirmed cheerfully, too cheerfully, he suspected, for half two in the morning. “Half-metal, half-brooding malcontent, desperately in love with Steve.” Sexy Bearded Nightshopper eyed Stiles with a curious mixture of disbelief and reluctant curiosity. Stiles just waited, interested to see which way he was going to go.
“Who is Steve?” SBN ground out, clearly loathing himself the moment the words were spoken.
“Steve,” Stiles said, ducking out from behind the desk to assist SBN, “is Bucky here’s One True Love. He patted the checkout next to Bucky and grinned widely. Steve, meet Sexy Bearded Nightshopper. Sexy Bearded Nightshopper, meet Steve and Bucky.”
The tips of his ears turning pink as Stiles scanned his ID over the sensor to fix the scales’ malfunction, SBN seemed content to ignore Stiles’ name for him, as well as the introduction. “You’re trying to tell me two of your self-serves are in a homosexual relationship?”
“Aht, we don’t throw labels around,” Stiles informed SBN archly. “But yes, their love is an epic for the ages.” He leaned back against Steve and watched as SBN scanned a couple more items before Bucky needed to take another break. Again, Stiles came to the rescue. “You know, I could just have Scott put your stuff through if you wanted to–” Stiles trailed off when he turned to gesture to the one staffed register, only to find Scott lying on his back on the conveyor, sound asleep. “Oh for cryin’ out loud.” He snatched up a bag of skittles from the impulse bar and lobbed it across the store, fist pumping when it hit Scott square in the side of his head and he flailed awake so hard he fell off the conveyor.
He turned back to SBN to see the last moment of what could have, potentially, been the remnants of a tiny smile disappear from the guy’s gorgeous face. “As I was saying, Scott,” he said loudly, “if my staff were even awake I could have saved you Bucky’s PTSD flashback moments and–”
“Don’t like people,” SBN said with a scowl. “This is fine.”
“You realise that I’m a people, right?” Stiles grinned, saving SBN once more.
“I stand by what I said,” SBN told him, straight-faced.
“Might have to revise your nickname, come to think of it,” Stiles frowned back. “’Bearded Nightshopping Asshole’ might work.”
The Shopper Previously Known As SBN huffed what could have been considered a laugh by employees who didn’t know any better and swiped his card to pay for his things. “Do you have a manager I could speak to?” he asked casually.
“Oh, unlucky, I am the manager,” Stiles told him, aiming for menacing and missing by approximately a mile.
“Does it make you feel powerful to say it like that?” TSPKASBN asked dryly.
“Like I could rampage through these aisles like Godzilla in downtown Tokyo.”
There was a squeal of feedback from the store’s P.A. system and then Scott began talking with his mouth much too close to the mic, as always.
“Attention customers,” he began as per usual, “the time is now two forty five, and the store will be closing in fifteen minutes. If you would kindly finalise your purchases and make your way to the registers, it would be greatly appreciated. It would also be greatly appreciated if the dude flirting with the night manager would leave his name and number before leaving the store.”
There was another squeal of feedback, then an awkward silence, and then Stiles clapped his hands together once, loud in the otherwise-empty store. “Welp, that was incredibly embarrassing. FOR SCOTT,” he shouted towards the back of the store, making TSPKASBN startle. “On an utterly unrelated note, do you know anyone in need of a job? I have a sneaking suspicion there will be a job opening for a night cashier very. soon.”
Stiles just sighed a little as the beautiful guy just shot him a confused look and left without another word.
Sterek mate fic where Derek knows early on that Stiles is his mate, probably since they were inches apart on opposite sides of a metal grate in a police cruiser.
Insert your own mate rules here. Who knows how he knows, maybe it’s a pheromone thing or a sixth wolfy sense.
Derek, is of course, shocked and horrified. Stiles is a fetus with lip. And he’s human. The first few years of their relationship is a series of Derek going “this kid?”
But it’s maybe only sincere those first few times, because it only takes about a week for Derek to see how different Stiles is from every other human he’s ever known.
Eventually, Derek admits those first few times Stiles was there for him, willingly sacrificing for him, weren’t some fluke of character but just Stiles. Derek didn’t want to believe Stiles was his mate, part of him still doesn’t, but now it’s a fearful hopeful disbelief.
He never tells Stiles. Except, wolves are able to tell when another has chosen a mate, been mated. Which is sort of like saying he got werewolf married. Which is what Stiles calls it when he discovers the topic. He bombarded Derek with questions and he sort of wanted Stiles to figure it out, but he was also terrified by the thought.
Maybe another pack comes to town, or an omega, whatever. Someone that can see that Derek has a mate and comments on it, offhand. The rest of the pack is shocked. But their wereguest can’t tell it’s Stiles, and asks Derek if his mate will be joining them, and Derek says ‘no’.
‘Cos, the thing is, Stiles is a human, and Derek doesn’t think its even possible for Stiles to choose him as his mate. How would that even work. But, Derek can. So, he does, because he knows Stiles is it.
Derek would probably be shifty and awkward the rest of the evening, the pack asking him together and individually who it is.
Stiles never asks, because he already knows. He already thinks he knows. He hopes he knows. Derek doesn’t have any friends outside the pack and they’re all here.
Afterwards, Derek shakes the group off and manages to flee in his car before the others can accost him.
It’s less than an hour later when Stiles shows up on his doorstep and asks “when did you know we were mates?”
Derek wasn’t prepared for that question. Stiles doesn’t even consider the possibility that it isn’t him. Derek doesn’t know what to do with that information. “Is there a wrong answer?” Derek asks instead.
Stiles huffs a laugh and shakes his head, Derek catching it in his peripheral, “No.”
“When we first met,” Derek admits, looking up at him. Stiles nods thoughtfully.
“And when did you…” Stiles says, licking his lips, “you know…decide to put a supernatural ring on it?”
“Nobody would know it was you,” Derek assures him.
“You would,” Stiles says.
“Yeah, that was the point,” Derek counters.
“Right.”
There’s silence for a long moment. Derek can tell that Stiles is thinking, and he tries to prepare for it. Mostly for the rejection he was trying so hard to avoid.
“Can I ask you something,” Stiles says. His voice is soft, vulnerable. Derek swallows thickly and nods.
Stiles opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything, he huffs a shaky breath and Derek glances down to where Stiles is opening his hand instead. There’s a mood ring in his palm.
“It’s late, there’s nothing open. I didn’t have anything else,” Stiles says before Derek can comment on it. But, Derek just stares at it.
“What was your question?” Derek asks, dragging his eyes away to look at Stiles.
“Seriously?” Stiles asks, his voice back to its normal level of sarcasm. It makes Derek feel better some how.
“What are you doing?” Derek asks, shaking his head.
“So, you’re allowed to choose me as your mate but I don’t get to?” Stiles says. “That’s racist, Derek,” Stiles admonishes.
“You’re ridiculous,” Derek confirms, but his heart is pounding.
“No, I’m your ridiculous,” Stiles says, holding up the ring. “If you want? I thought maybe, If you’re okay with getting werewolf married than why not? Unless, the whole mates thing isn’t anything like being in love with someone and hurting physically when they’re gone.”
“Stiles,” Derek sighs. Stiles steps forward and pulls Derek’s hand towards him, slips the ring onto his finger and kisses him. Derek lets him, settles his hands on Stiles’ hips and kisses back.
“We don’t have to get married now, or anything. If you don’t want to. I just don’t know how to say ‘i choose you, too’ bigger?”
“I’m not sure there is bigger, Stiles,” Derek sighs, he kisses Stiles again.
“I just want to be with you, all the time, forever and probably after, you’re stuck with me, Hale.” Stiles says, his voice is soft and nervous. Derek moves his mouth to Stiles’ jaw, down his throat. He nips at Stiles’ throat, and Stiles tilts his head back, hands clutching at Derek’s biceps when he bites down harder.
“Pretty sure I just werewolf submitted, so like, is that a yes or?”
“Yes, and yes,” Derek answers, dragging himself back up to Stiles’ face. Stiles smiles, and it’s one of the rare ones he’s seen only a few times. The sincere kind, the one that breaks through all those walls he puts up, Derek kisses it.
theproblemwithstardust 