Every time Steve Rogers has sex, a bald eagle is born
No wonder they’re endangered.
"I need your help."
Derek looks up from the article he’s reading on the ipad Cora bought him for Christmas, ignores the oh so slight trip of his heart as Stiles throws himself into the chair opposite him and shakes snow out of his hair.
"Dude," Stiles smiles faintly, pulls his coffee cup closer as he settles in, "You don’t know what you’re agreeing to, yet. I could be asking you to help me shovel snow off the drive."
Derek shrugs, “Then I’ll help you shovel snow.”
"So weird that you do that these days," Stiles sighs dramatically, rests his chin on one hand as he grins at Derek, "Remember when you’d just shove me against a door and say no?"
"That was over five years ago!"
"Aw, you look so embarrassed," Stiles prods at his cheek, and Derek snaps his teeth at him.
"Was there something you needed again?"