“Hiiiiiii,” Derek said happily, when Isaac broke down the door, and he and Scott and Stiles burst into the room. “I’m chained up!”
Stiles looked at Scott, who looked at him, and then they both looked at Isaac, who was too taken aback to even blink, apparently. Derek was indeed chained up. Again.
That wasn’t the surprising part.
“I’m really glad to see you,” Derek said, rolling his head against the fence. He was barefoot and dirty, and he was slurring his words just enough to be noticeable, but there was no blood anywhere Stiles could see. “Are you glad to see me?”
“We’re, um, yes?” Scott said, like he wasn’t entirely sure.
“We’re really, really glad to see you,” Isaac said, in the tone of voice you’d use to talk to a little kid. “Aren’t we, guys?” He shot threatening looks at Stiles and Scott.
“Right, yes,” Stiles said immediately as Scott said, “Absolutely! Super glad!”
“Are you all right?” Isaac asked Derek, taking a wary step closer. They were all off balance now, unsure of what they’d walked into.
“No,” Derek said petulantly. “I want to hug you but I can’t.” He frowned and tugged against the manacles on his wrists. “You’re my best friends in the whole world.”
“I think he’s okay,” Scott said after a long, awkward silence. “Except. You know.” He made a vague gesture at Derek, who didn’t seem to be hurt, specifically. Just very…un-Derek-like.
“We should—we don’t have much time,” Stiles reminded everyone, but it still took a few more seconds for someone to move, all of them completely thrown by the way Derek was acting. They’d been prepared for gore, for carnage, maybe for a dead body. They hadn’t been prepared for this.
“I was hoping Stiles would come,” Derek said dreamily, eyes fixed on him while Scott started on the manacles with a bolt cutter.
“And here I am,” Stiles said unnecessarily, throwing his hands out in a little flourish before he awkwardly shoved them in his jacket pockets. Derek’s dirty, beaming face was freaking him out.
The last manacle came apart under the bolt cutters and hit the floor next to Derek’s bare toes with a loud clang. “I care about you guys so much,” Derek gushed, slumping over into Isaac’s arms.
“This is way worse than I imagined,” Scott said under his breath, shaking his head.
“Guys, I’m serious. We gotta go,” Stiles said. They’d already been here too long, and every little noise was making him jump.
“Stiles says we gotta go,” Derek muttered. “Stiles is always bossing me around and I like it.”
“Oh my God,” Stiles said faintly, into the shocked silence. Isaac looked like he was trying not to laugh. Scott was looking at Derek like he’d grown a second head.
“You are so stoned, man,” Isaac said, shaking his head, and Derek promptly launched into another repetition of I’m so glad you guys are here. Isaac propped him up while Scott slipped his shirt over his head, both of them humming agreement to every single one of Derek’s declarations of love and happiness.
There were some syringes, most of them empty, one of them still full of a cloudy yellow liquid, scattered on the floor. Stiles grabbed the full one and carefully put it in his pocket while Scott and Isaac helped Derek into his shoes.
When they finally got him out to the Cruiser, it looked like Derek was going to get in willingly enough, until he saw Stiles head for the driver’s seat, at which point he balked, bracing his arms against the door frame like a cat trying to avoid the kitty carrier. “I want you to ride in the back with me, Stiles,” he said, refusing to budge. “I missed you.”
Stiles paused, hand on the door handle, and wondered how this shit kept happening to him. He wanted to bang his head against the Cruiser’s window, but that wouldn’t help anyone. “Please stop talking,” he begged Derek. “Just get in, okay?”
Derek glared at him, and for one reassuring second it was like the real Derek was back, until he said, “You’re hurting my feelings.”
“Jesus Christ,” Scott said, with feeling.
“Fine!” Stiles hissed, because shouting was a bad idea when you were escaping with someone’s prisoner. He marched around to the back door and handed the keys to Scott.
Appeased, Derek caught the front of Stiles jacket in his grubby hand and held on as he got in, practically dragging Stiles with him. As soon as Stiles’ butt hit the seat, Derek was right there, pressed against his side, trying to burrow under his arm.
“You need to put your seat belt on,” Stiles protested, shoving at him to no avail. “Safety first!”
Derek scoffed at the idea of a seatbelt as he wormed a little closer and put his head under Stiles’ chin. “I want to sit by you,” he said stubbornly. “You smell nice. I like you. I want to touch you. I think about you when I—”
“Okay!” Stiles yelled, slapping his hand down over Derek’s mouth before he could finish that horrifying sentence. “I think I get it.”
Stiles fully expected to get bitten, but instead Derek gently took his hand and tugged it away. He didn’t let go, just rubbed his thumb over the knob of Stiles’ wrist as he lifted his head so he could stare into Stiles’ eyes. Isaac was right–Derek was completely stoned. His eyes were almost all pupil.
“Do you?” Derek asked Stiles earnestly. “Do you really get it?”
“I think he’s gonna get it,” Isaac snorted up front.
“You’re not helping,” Scott gritted out as he started the engine. He didn’t look happy to suddenly be the getaway driver, but tough luck. Stiles was the one dealing with the real problem here.
Derek was still waiting for an answer, with wide eyes and a painfully open expression on his face. Stiles swallowed and said, “Can we—if I promise we’ll talk about this once we’re alone will you stop? Will you please stop?” Derek was twining their fingers together, Stiles realized, aghast. “Just wait until we’re alone, okay?”
“Okay,” Derek said, and put his head back on Stiles’ shoulder and didn’t say another word until they got to his place.
He’s staring at Stiles over his own tall, white glass, like he’s waiting for something. Stiles stares at the milkshake that’s been placed in front of him. The straw is tilted at a jaunty angle. This is all very strange.
A scene from part two of a really adorable fic! You can find the series here.
I highly recommended it if you like fics that really focus on the characters and their interaction. I was pretty excited to find it as they were one of my fave authors from another fandom.
A year ago, I got an ask
for Sterek and dragons. I started a dragonriders fic for it (which is still a
WIP growing somewhere deep in my files).
But never let it be said
that I don’t have hundreds of ideas for dragons, so here, have Sterek and a
baby dragon, the result of two days’ worth of insomnia and a beta by my beloved @seanconneraille (keep in mind that it’s 4 AM here, so all the errors left are totally mine)
–
It all starts when Stiles
trips on a rock in the forest.
As always, Derek is the one
walking closest to him and he manages to catch him by the collar of his shirt, using
a combination of werewolf reflexes and years of knowing Stiles.
Stiles hangs in
the air for a second before Derek shoves him back on his feet, Stiles swearing
colorfully at the rock the whole way up. The rest of the pack keeps gossiping
about the new restaurant in town, walking away from them both without a look
backward.
All in all, it’s a Monday
as usual.
Until the rock at their
feet swears back.
Well, squeaks. In an
angry way.
Derek looks down at the
very boring, big, grey rock that tried to break Stiles’ neck. The rock looks
back with one tiny, golden, disturbingly-out-of-place eye.
Ok but seriously. Hear me out. sterek fic where everybody is alive and the Hale can actually turn into wolves.
Derek is in high school with Stiles and he has the BIGGEST crush. And then stiles comes to the Hale house for some reason (common paper/friend with Cora/helping Talia to organise the precinct barbecue) and Derek’s hell begins.
Because stiles is perfect and nice and funny and he tries to bond with Derek. And everything would be perfect if his family wasn’t a huge pack of TROLLS.
every times, one of them find an excuses to disappear and reappear as a wolf, and stiles is completely completely gone on them and Derek as to suffer silently while watching Stiles petting his sisters, his cousins, his fucking father.
Tonight he was drinking tea outside with stiles, and it would be kind of romantic and intimate, with the sunset and everything.
But Peter is sprawled all over Stiles’ laps and looking at Derek with a leer that should not be able to exist on a canine face.
Derek wants to cry.
Stiles is confused.
(I really want to read all the fics with the Hale trolling Derek. I live for that)
Derek shines his flashlight, hoping fervently this isn’t a drug deal. He’s just campus security, armed with little more than a fierce scowl and a flashlight. The dark alleyway lights up with a guilty looking guy who spots Derek and immediately takes off, holding a paper bag to his chest.
Derek decides not to pursue him, seeing as the dealer is still in the alleyway with nowhere to go, trapped between Derek and a wall.
“Oh my God, please turn that thing off!” the dealer says, shielding his eyes.
Derek knows he doesn’t have the authority to arrest anyone, but he can still scare the living daylights out of this kid. “No,” Derek says. “I’m going to keep you here until the authorities come for you, I can’t believe you’re throwing away your college education by doing this—”
“I swear, it’s for the public good, there’s a demand and I just am rerouting some of the supply—” the guy says sheepishly.
“You’re a menace,” Derek says, and he feels a bit badly for shining the light in the guy’s eyes so much, so he turns it off.
Derek immediately regrets this decision. The drug dealer is cute.
“Thank you,” the guy gasps. “Please, don’t rat me out, I just was making some extra cash, and it’s my own recipe but the bakery has these stupid strict rules and I think they’re gonna try and copyright it or something—”
Derek doesn’t understand what he’s saying. It’s probably all codewords for drug things.
theproblemwithstardust 