Sterek AU: The Hale family owns a villa in Italy and they’re vacationing there,
renting out the room to a young man named Stiles. Derek initially finds Stiles
irritating because he flirts with Cora and the other girls, but he always seems
to fail at winning them over. And when responsibility falls upon Derek’s
shoulders to look after their guest, things get a little tense.
Stiles asks if
there’s any dos and don’ts when talking to the locals, especially women, but
Derek says he doesn’t know.
“What do you
mean you don’t know?” Stiles asks. “I mean I
don’t know,” Derek replies, tense. “How can you
not know?” “Because I
don’t flirt with women. I’m gay.”
Things from there
on out are very quiet between the two of them. Until one night – when Stiles
comes home from a festival with Cora, covered in mosquito bites and very
uncomfortable. Derek brings him an ointment that he made to help and helps
Stiles treat the bites.
As he’s lathering
the cream on his legs, but freezes, hesitating for a moment before bending
forward and kissing Stiles’ shin. He freezes, waiting for Stiles to object, to
shove him away, kick him, whatever. But Stiles just meets his gaze.
Derek trails kisses
up Stiles’ leg, stomach, chest, growing more and more impatient and faster
before crushing their lips together.
They end up lying
back against the bed, limbs entangled and passionately making out. Between
kisses, Stiles says that he doesn’t want to have sex, and Derek understands,
asking if Stiles is still comfortable kissing him. Stiles says yes and they lie
down together, eventually drifting off to sleep.
The next day, they
head into town to get breakfast at a café when Derek gets a phone call. He says
he has to leave and he’ll call one of his sisters to pick Stiles up, but Stiles
begs Derek to take him wherever he’s going. Not wanting to fight, Derek agrees.
Derek takes Stiles
to the house he’s renovating across town, and the construction workers had
called because the water main had burst. They both get drenched trying to fix
it and once the problem’s dealt with, Derek looks at Stiles and starts to
apologise when the young man bursts out laughing and Derek can’t help but join
in; that laugh is contagious.
Stiles tells him that that was the most fun he’s
had the whole time he’s been there.
So, over the next
few weeks, Stiles helps Derek out and they spend time together and sleep
together. A month later, Stiles has to go back home, but Derek doesn’t want to
let him go, so he finishes the renovations and asks Stiles to move in with him.
The woods have been Stiles’ home for all his life, so when something Dark starts to creep in, it’s obvious that his world is going to change…
In more ways than one.
I was paired with the marvelous @theproblemwithstardust for the @sterekreversebang and they made this gorgeous artwork! Talking with them and working through the story was so much fun! Thank you for being my partner in this!!!
There’s a beautiful part two! Look at every precious detail of this Sterek artwork and then go commission@linneart because I want to see as much of her work as possible on Tumblr. Also on patreon!
Imagine Scott and Stiles go to the nightclub and they make their way to the bar to order drinks. Since Scott is driving, he jokingly orders “One screwdriver as virtuous as my friend”. The bartender stares at him, deadpan, and slides a full bottle of vodka across the bar. Scott looks at him, shocked, and Stiles bursts out in laughter. Taking a moment to compose himself, Stiles introduces Scott to his boyfriend, Derek.
derek and stiles on a road trip across the country
(◕‿◕✿)
You know what this makes me think? Of all those stories where Derek left Beacon Hills but Stiles stays to fight. And maybe they keep in contact in a vague way over the years. Like Derek always sends him a card on his birthday, and occasionally Stiles will text him for advice when some new supernatural disaster hits town. And it’s okay. Stiles thinks. He’s tired, sure, and he wishes things were different. Wishes he could catch a break sometimes but he’s trying and that’s got to count for something, right?
Then one year, on Stiles’ birthday, the card he gets from Derek has an address carefully written in the lower left corner, in Derek’s fastidious cursive. Stiles doesn’t let himself think to much about it. Doesn’t ALLOW himself to, because he knows what it means. It means Derek has found somewhere.
Somewhere he calls home.
It means he’s not coming back.
Derek’s not coming back– and Stiles feels like an icy fist has grabbed his insides.
He won’t let himself think about it.
Maybe a week later, though, after Stiles is injured in a vicious battle with a rival pack, he patches himself up as best he can, drives home feeling shaky and unsettled. Hobbles through the front door, pours himself a drink of whiskey, then another, feels a little maudlin. Maybe lets his mind drift back to that card. Flips open his laptop and brings up Google Earth. Types in the address (which he’s memorized), and hits enter. It’s a ranch in Wyoming. Sees pictures. Endless rolling planes and a vast expanse of sky. A place where you can see everything that’s coming towards you, where there are no shadows for dark things to hide in.
And he aches.
It occurs to him that he hasn’t really felt safe. Not really. Not for the longest time. Not since– well– not since Derek left. Because Derek was the one. The one that made sure that when the supernatural shit hit the fan, Stiles wasn’t getting gouged by harpies or shredded by asshole werewolves. Derek actually HAD his back. More to the point, they had each others’ back. He misses that. Misses having someone he can depend on, someone he can banter with when the chips are down. It hits him in all in a rush that he misses Derek. He’s tired. So tired of fighting and pretending to be okay, and he misses Derek.
The idea won’t leave him alone. Days pass. Weeks. Months. Nearly a year. And it gnaws at him. He spends his nights staring at his laptop, at the ranch. The plains. The breathtaking emptiness of it. Then one night, after another particularly brutal fight in which he narrowly escapes with his life, he comes home, packs a bag, leaves a note for his dad, climbs into his car and just drives and drives and drives. Day and night. Only stopping when he absolutely has to.
As he finally approaches the ranch in the Jeep, though, he’s convinced himself that Derek won’t even be there. That he’s probably moved on again. It’s a beautiful place, timber glowing almost red in the late afternoon sun, endless green fields in all directions and, in the very distance, barely visible on the horizon, he sees mountains. Even if Derek isn’t here, he thinks he’ll stay. See if he can find work.
As he pulls up, though, a door to one of the many out building opens, and Stiles’ breath catches in his throat.
Derek looks– softer. His beard is fuller, jeans looser. He’s wearing a faded gray shirt rolled up at the sleeves to reveal the corded muscle of his arms, which he folds across his chest, as Stiles kills the engine. They stare at each other for a moment. Stiles’ gaze drinking in all that capable strength, safe hands, the slight gray in his beard. He looks good. So fucking good. Stiles can’t sit here staring at him all day though, so, heart in his mouth, he opens the door to his jeep and tumbles out, stumbling forward a few steps, suddenly feeling every inch the awkward teenager he hasn’t been in years.
“Hey. Hi, you look–uh–” he begins, but can’t seem to find the words. “I–had to. . I needed to–” And the way he falters over it, the intonation, makes it sound like there’s more to it. Like he need to see Derek for some other reason, because of some crisis or whatever. Like he’s come to get him. When the truth is: Stiles needed to see Derek. Period. The end.
Derek raises one eyebrow in a silent question.
Stiles swallows. Starts again. “I just wanted to see you,“ he says. Raw. Honest. “Is that–? Okay?” His heart is pounding in his chest, because it’s only just dawning on him that he doesn’t know if Derek wants him here. If Derek feels the same way he does– the way he’s always felt ever since that first day in the preserve all those years ago.
Derek purses his lips. “Of course I wanted to see you too,” he says, with a slow blooming grin that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. “That’s why I sent you my address, idiot.”
Stiles huffs out a startled laugh. “What? Really?”
With a shake of his head, Derek lopes towards him easily, reaches out a hand, cups Stiles’ face. “Really,” he says. “Took you long enough. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.” And he dips his head to kiss him.
Stiles would protest at that, but he’s too busy kissing him back, besides they’ll be plenty of time to argue later. For now he’s just going to enjoy being home.
theproblemwithstardust 