Summary: In the summer between high school and college, when most people get to be lazy and hang onto the last remnants of their childhood, Stiles is training to become the Hale Pack emissary (as soon as he can bully Derek into accepting him), supervising Pack training… and trying to figure out why so many people are acting so weird.
It’s probably nothing.
Right?
Author’s note: My deepest thanks to the following people for all their help in making this fic happen: first, to @wildamongwolves , whose beautiful art inspired every word of this fic; to @drgrlfriend and @badwolfbadwolf , who made it infinitely better; to @leelathecat , who held my hand and talked me off the ledge; and to the sterekreversebang mods, for being completely awesome.
Stiles stared into eyes that were just a little lighter than even the day before, looking almost beta-gold in the harsh lighting. His nose was just a little less uptilted, the moles on his face not quite where they used to be. The scar on the bottom of his chin from when he fell off the swings in third grade was just gone. He seemed a little bit taller, his shoulders a little bit wider.
With trembling fingers Stiles folded his left ear forward, craning his neck. A wheezing breath escaped him, his legs suddenly feeling weak with relief.
The mark of the Oni was still there, the one that meant self.
Stiles was still himself. For now.
Your friends. Your family. Everyone who ever meant something to you. We’re going to destroy all of them, Stiles. One. By. One.
The nogitsune’s words echoed in Stiles’ head again, and he grimaced. It wasn’t just that the nogitsune had threatened everyone Stiles loved.
It was that he had said we.
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(Don’t worry, it starts out angsty but then turns into communication, fluff, and smut).
honestly look at Derek’s jacket in 6.19 and tell me he and Stiles aren’t already together by that point. That is 100% a Stiles’ jacket that he borrowed.
this is a hold my beer moment for meta
let’s talk canon, and specifically the skewy time line in 6b
before s6 we can give days to things happening but s6 is the longest season by far and very non specific
but here’ what we’ve got
Stiles left at the end of 6a which is early June [we know the school goes back in late august so early june to late august makes most sense] so that means the scene with the FBI happened BEFORE Scott went to leave for school in August [the day before BHHS went back for the new school year]
the scene with Chris Argent meeting Derek happened BEFORE he was framed by Kate getting him in with the FBI – they wouldn’t want him for murders in mexico but it’s shown much later in the timeline
the raid happened most likely in late summer, so depending on stiles being loquacious probably within a six week window, there’s not a lot to be very specific but it was certainly early
now there are things we can be specific on, Derek said that Stiles had a toe blown off but when we see him he’s fine, that means he had a period of healing and long enough that Derek was entirely let off the hook – that takes time, at least several months
as far as we can tell the Anuk-ite escapes in August, Monroe doesn’t become militarised until September at the earliest, and the show ends around May, 6b seems to last the entire school year, but even if it is just the winter term that’s still august through december
if Stiles was in that theorised six week window [allowing for bureaucracy] that means it’s likely that it had happened by the time that Lydia had the bad feeling.
Let me repeat that – no matter how we slice this Derek and Stiles were together for at least three months BEFORE they came back to Beacon Hills, long enough for Stiles to heal, that means they were together when they came back, they not only healed stiles foot together they drove down from washington dc
that’s love, man, being stuck in a car with Stiles that long and not throwing him out of the window
TLDR: Teen wolf’s timeline makes the fact that Sterek were together for months seem impossible, they were absolutely together!
Okay, for this one I absolutely see Stiles nagging Derek to go take care of himself for once in his fucking life. Derek protests, he wants to go check on everyone in his pack, make sure they’re okay after the last monster of the week has been defeated. Stiles glares at him and says, “They’re fine, everyone’s fine, you need to relax. Literally. Let them go live their lives, you know Boyd and Erica are just gonna go have sex anyway and you definitely don’t want to interrupt that. Not a hair was harmed on Isaac’s pretty blonde head, and Scott hightailed it out of here with Allison. So just stop and go home.”
And Derek looks hurt for a hot second, then irritated, and Stiles figures that’s pretty much par for the course.
Also, because Stiles knows Derek, he doesn’t actually leave him to do what Stiles has instructed. He plants himself in the Camaro’s passenger seat and gives him a “do not fuck with me” look and gestures in the direction of the loft, which Derek returns with a sneer but obeys. When they get back, Derek gives him a look like, “Well, you can go home now,” and Stiles responds by pointing a stern finger at the door, and then proceeds to follow Derek up the stairs because Derek is an asshole and pointedly doesn’t take the elevator. Stiles figures he should just be grateful that Derek doesn’t werewolf-leap up the multiple flights instead.
When they get inside the loft, Derek crosses his arms over his chest and sulks, and Stiles doesn’t think it’s adorable. He doesn’t. To distract himself from pouty Derek tugging at his heartstrings (and other parts of his anatomy), he gives Derek strict instructions to lie down on his couch for five minutes, and to not move an inch in that time. Derek starts to protest, but Stiles literally growls at him, and Derek obeys in surprise.
While Derek is lying down, Stiles is busy filling the jacuzzi-style tub (at least the previous owners did something right with this place) with hot water and several capfuls of bubble bath. (He is on the edge of shocked that there’s bubble bath even in this hermit’s cave, but he attributes it to Erica’s influence.) While the water runs, he heads back into the kitchen to whip up a quick salad and starts the oven heating so he can bake a couple chicken breasts.
When the tub is ready, he calls for Derek, who comes trudging into the bathroom reluctantly, his nose twitching at the fruity smell of bubble bath. “Stiles,” he sighs, but Stiles just pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Look, you got the shit kicked out of you, again, and you look like something the cat dragged in. You never take care of yourself, so I’m doing it for you.” Derek’s mouth parts in either shock or offense, but Stiles doesn’t care. “Strip yourself out of those mangy rags and get in that tub, or so help me I’ll do it myself.”
Derek smirks. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Stiles crosses his arms over his chest. “Try me.”
Derek considers him, but the fire in Stiles’ eyes must convince him that he’s not joking. Still, Derek is clearly not willing to back down too much, which is evident when he proceeds to do exactly as Stiles commanded and strips. Stark fucking naked.
Stiles’ jaw drops and Derek smirks again when he climbs into the tub. He tips his head back, closes his eyes, and sinks down into the steaming water, little clouds of fluffy white bubbles sticking in patches to his chest. Which is dusted with gloriously thick, dark hair.
Stiles has seen Derek shirtless before, obviously. He’s seen him half-naked. He’s seen him mostly naked. And now he can say that he’s seen him 100% naked. Thank you sweet baby Jesus. But he’s never looked so beautiful as he does now, relaxed, with a peaceful expression on his face, and Stiles’ heart aches a little. He blames it for the way he drifts closer to Derek, and reaches out to wipe away a little blood from his cheek. One eye cracks open.
“What are you doing, Stiles?” His voice comes out deeper than usual, a little rumbly, and Stiles can feel his body reacting. The other eye opens, and Stiles expects yet another smirk at his expense.
“You had blood on your cheek,” he defends himself, voice slightly faint. “I was trying to get you cleaned up.”
“You could do that better from in here,” Derek suggests, and Stiles’ jaw drops for the second time that night. (He wishes it was for other reasons, but this one on its own isn’t too bad.) The words, in conjunction with that suddenly low, sultry voice, have him torn between diving into the tub and running in fear. His body, however, doesn’t have any such conflict and responds eagerly. Derek unsubtly sniffs the air and gives him a Cheshire-cat grin. “I didn’t mean to turn you on,” he says lazily, but the grin grows, and Stiles snorts.
“I don’t even have to be a werewolf to hear that blatant lie.”
“So why are you still out there?” His words are bold, but when Stiles studies him, he can see the uncertainty in his eyes, his wide smile dimming the longer Stiles remains fully clothed and outside of the bathtub.
Stiles bites his lip. “The chicken will burn,” he offers feebly, and Derek’s smile grows again, turning predatory.
“Fuck the chicken.”
Stiles bursts into laughter. “Derek, you kinky fucker. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
He rolls his eyes, but they’re warm when they come to rest on him. “I don’t, and neither will you if you don’t get. in. this. tub.”
Stiles doesn’t have to be told twice. (Or, well, three times.)
theproblemwithstardust 