Summary: Stiles’ house burns down. Derek comes a-calling.
Excerpt: “Stiles,” he says, sounding strained. “Stiles, you’re – are you –”
“Whoa, dude,” you say. “It’s good, it’s cool, I’m totally fine. I mean, my house is not, and I’m not really looking forward to the argument we’re going to have to have with the landlord about how we didn’t start the fire – it was always burning, yada yada yada – but anyway, I’m mostly focused on being alive right now. Which I am! So, uh, no need to worry.”
“I thought –” he starts, and he sounds – lost, vulnerable. You haven’t heard his voice in months, barely talked to him the last time you were home, even, the weekend before you left for school. Everybody got together at your house for a barbecue but you spent most of the time talking to Erica and Allison, occasionally catching his eye across the lawn and grinning before getting distracted again. “I saw something – on the news –”
“Yeah, they’ve got vans,” you say. “I don’t think it would have been a story except that it took so goddamn long for them to put it out.”
“I thought,” he says again, and you remember all of the sudden that his entire family burned to death, which hadn’t entered your mind at all until just this moment, because you’re apparently a huge fucking asshole.
Stiles is back in town for less than a day before he goes to find Derek, and he’s so determined that it doesn’t even take long. Derek looks good. He seems healthier, not so hidden behind a prickly, standoffish layer of hair gel and black leather. He’s even wearing earth tones. Stiles is impressed.
Derek, on the other hand, looks completely unimpressed to have been found. But by now, Stiles knows that’s just his face.
“C’mon dude,” he says when it’s obvious that Derek won’t look him in the eye. “You had to know that I was coming back.”
“I didn’t,” Derek replies, voice somehow gruff and light at the same time. It’s a juxtaposition that Stiles has never forgotten. “You shouldn’t have. You’re better than this town.”
Stiles resists the urge to roll his eyes, but only barely. “You know what I want, Derek.”
And bless him, Derek looks surprised. “Do you still? Really?”
“Yes, you dumbass.” He does roll his eyes then, taking a step forward to close the distance between them. God, it’s been years since he was this close. “I went on my werewolf-imposed rumspringa just like you wanted. I went to college and tried new things and experienced the world like you said I should. And guess what?”
He waits for Derek to finally look at him, and he smiles. Derek looks wary yet hopeful. He’s gorgeous. He’s all Stiles has ever wanted.
“I still want you,” he admits, reaching up to put a hand on Derek’s warm shoulder. “Even after everything.”
“I’m still bad for you,” Derek says, recalling their argument years ago, but there’s no conviction in it. Stiles lets out a quiet scoff and curls his long fingers around the back of Derek’s neck.
“Why don’t you let me decide what’s bad for me?” Stiles leans in close, so close he has to look up over the top of his glasses to see Derek’s face. “Hint: it isn’t you. So will you finally fucking kiss me already?”
And bless him again, Derek does.
written by alovething
Summary: The year is 2020. Better Living Industries has Battery City in a chokehold. Stiles is a teenager doing his best to help people out of the city, just like his mom did before him. But when BLI captures werewolves and starts destroying them, Stiles knows he has to do something more.
Excerpt: “Alpha here, over,” Derek says into the old-fashioned microphone.
“We’ve got a runner here fresh out of Bat City, says he knows you, over,” Dr. Death Defying says.
“He knows me?” Derek asks. Then adds, “Over,” as an afterthought. The only person he can think of from the city, the only one who’s left, is-
But they can’t give out real names over the radio, knowing BLI is probably listening in, so Derek can’t ask or mention it.
The room is quiet, oddly comforting in a way that the Sheriff knows is somehow not right for what is about to happen.
He says, “It’s Derek Hale, isn’t it.” and tries to breathe around the throbbing pulse that has been building in his throat for the past hour.
Stiles turns his face away, and there is something almost fond flickering in the shadows of his eyes.
“Yeah,” he whispers. His mouth tugs slightly, a wistful smile trying to make itself known on his bruised and broken face. “I love him, Dad. I love Derek.”
And the Sheriff knows, of course he knows, of course. He’s known for days, weeks, months, that knowledge a building trepidation in his bones, skirting across his skin, the chill at the back of his neck. He’s known from the extra set of footsteps thumping softly from Stiles’ bedroom at too-late hours of the night, he’s known from his son’s red-kissed lips and wild laughter and he’s known since the moment he spotted his son at the local gas station, standing by the hood of a Camero he did not own, leaning against it as Derek pressed himself into the swaying curve of Stiles’ body and smiled against his neck.
The Sheriff has known.
“That’s, that’s good son.” He says, because Stiles is his son and he is supposed to care about Stiles’ happiness most of all. And Stiles is smiling now, faint but still there, amongst the bruises against his cheek and the broken skin at his mouth. Stiles is happy and the Sheriff is supposed to be happy for him because that’s how it works, isn’t it? As a parent, a father - he’s supposed to be happy for his son.
He gives Stiles a squeeze on his shoulder, and it is awkward and Stiles lifts his head to his father and the Sheriff smiles because this is what his son needs.
But when he goes downstairs and hears Stiles turn in for the night, the Sheriff pours himself a glass of whiskey, and then another, and another still, until he’s forgotten that his son is in love with a boy too old for him and an ex-convicted murderer. He drinks until his wife has returned and is sitting by his side, hand curled gently around his wrist as she always used to, drinks until he can hear her voice and forget his own.
Summary: Stiles spends a year before college working at the all-night coffee shop in town. It’s nice and quiet, until one dark and brooding Derek starts coming in every morning, ordering coffee so strong that it should not be fit for human consumption. Ever. Stiles tries not to be affected by the mystery guy, but it’s not like anything else happens around here, so really, what did you expect? And when he’s already in too deep, he realises he might even be in way over his head.
Excerpt: “So, I was wondering,” Stiles begins as he’s pushing the buttons on the espresso machine. “This modelling thing, when will I be doing it? What am I supposed to do?”
Derek quirks an eyebrow at him, which in itself is a bit of a surprise because he usually only has his scowl or a more surprised expression that Stiles calls his did you honestly just say that-face.
“Next week,” he says, and it’s not a question. “You’ll be naked.”
Stiles is happy that he hasn’t picked up the cup yet, because if he had, it would be lying on the floor now. “Naked?” he echoes and he isn’t sure that he likes the smug look on Derek’s face.
“I told you that it’s about the human body.”
oooooooooh my god this fic hurts so good
so, ages and ages ago i promised to write a fic for Spuzz where Allison and Stiles were bros. it turned into like, Allison and the summer after S2, bonding with Stiles and in turn, Stiles and Derek, and more bonding. i hope it’s somewhat acceptable because she’s all kinds of wonderful.
The worst part of being grounded is that she loses her car privileges. Her father holds out a palm for the keys when he’s finished remonstrating at her and she thrusts them at him feeling betrayed. They had a brief moment of comfort and then his face had closed down, the lines on his forehead deepening, the light in his eye vanishing. Watching her father become the angry, disciplinarian she sometimes sees when he’s in hunter mode is something she never enjoys.
It was ugly.
Summary: Where Derek is new to college, eager to spend his time learning, and Stiles is everything he didn’t want in a room mate. He’s loud, he’s into sports, and he keeps trying to make Derek do things.
Or, the one where Derek falls for a jock, Erica will cut you if you disturb her studying, and Jackson is a closeted romantic who pretends to hate everything.
Excerpt: Derek ducks to look at his bare chest and then back up at him. “What?”
Stiles’ eyes snap to him almost guiltily. “Nothing! Just, it’s cool, man. No fire! You can totally go back to bed, like, with no shirt on.”
“Do I need to sleep with a shirt on? Will this be offensive to your religion or something?”
“No! God, no,” Scott throws an arm around Stiles’ shoulders suddenly, interrupting him, smiles at them both and then throws up all over Derek’s feet.
“Woah, when did I eat seafood?”
Derek stares at his feet in horror as Stiles flaps around them, trying to clumsily help.
“Dude, Derek your feet.”
Summary: Stiles, deep in Peter’s debt, is offered up to Peter’s nearly feral nephew in an effort to keep him going over the edge of madness.
Excerpt: The way Derek stared at him made Stiles feel distinctly uncomfortable. He turned his eyes to the floor when Derek asked. “Why are you so scared?”
“Uh, because you fucking assaulted me?” Stiles replied. He tried to sound angry, but his words came out high and frightened. “Because I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t know why I’m here. Because I saw you rip out a guy’s fucking spleen earlier and I don’t know, maybe you’re going to do the same to me.”
Derek stood, but Stiles kept his eyes on the floor. He didn’t want to know what Derek’s face looked like. It came as a shock when the alpha said, “I’m not going to touch someone who isn’t willing. I got carried away earlier, and I apologize.”
Stiles’ heart skipped a beat. “What?” he breathed, looking up at the wolf.
“That’s the only apology you’re getting from me,” Derek replied haughtily. He held his hand out to Stiles. “Get up.”
Teen Wolf - STEREK AU - based on a fic
Derek is a basketball player and a jock. But there’s more to him than that and surprisingly enough, a nerd from med school called Stiles seems to notice that.
Stiles pinches the bridge of his nose and refuses to look at him. “I know how many baskets you scored last year dude, how many free throws, how many jump shots. My dad used to talk about Magic Johnson games and how watching him was like watching something special. You play like something special. It was cool to watch. I was not creeping on you, ok. I promise, I’m not weird.”
“I’ve spent four months turning up outside your lecture theatres with coffee, you think you’re the weird one?”
Stiles lets out a shaky laugh and flicks his gaze towards Derek, and then away again. “I just thought you were being nice. It was a little surprising, trust me.”
“Why? Because I’m a ‘jock’?” Derek scrunches up his nose at the word and feels just a little bit hurt.
“No, well yeah! Dude, look at you. Why would we be friends?”
“Friends,” Derek repeats flatly. “You know for someone smart, you’re the dumbest person I know.”
For Daunt as a belated valentines failwolf (I feel I deserve extra points for failing at both Failwolf Friday AND Valentines – that takes skill, man).
Betaed by the amazing Verity, who, without a doubt, kept me from FUCKING THIS UP BEYOND ALL MEASURE, HOLY GOD. Bow to her coffee-making genius. BOW I SAY!
Points also go to Halffizzbin, who pointed out to me that this was a thing:
- - -
Derek hears Stiles before he sees him, mostly because Stiles hasn’t yet learned how to enter The Halemouth without half falling through the door. He doesn’t let himself look up, instead surreptitiously taking down a mug from the shelf and adding a few pumps of hazelnut syrup. It’s absolutely because it’s the closest thing to hand and not because Stiles always moans a little bit around his first sip if Derek puts hazelnut in it.
“Dude!” Stiles says, and Derek looks up to find Stiles practically vibrating at the counter in front of him. “You gotta tell me about werewolf mating rituals!”
Derek fumbles hooking the portafilter, because Jesus. “What?”
Stiles uses his old, beaten laptop as an arm rest as he leans across the counter. Derek would feel sorry for the thing, but he knows it’s been through worse. Stiles wrote his first best-seller on that antique and it’s chugged on ever since. “Mating rituals,” Stiles says giddily, like he didn’t fry Derek’s brain with it the first time. “I need it for the ending of the Roth Trilogy.”
Derek leans over to grab a fresh bottle of milk from the fridge and when he straightens up, Stiles’ cheeks are a distracting pink. Derek feels mildly satisfied that talking about fucking mating rituals seems to affect him like a normal human being.
Stiles clears his throat. “But yeah – I’ve decided Leon and August are gonna have to go undercover as a mated pair and-“
“Leon and August?” Derek says before he can stop himself, twisting the cap off the jug. “Really?”
Stiles grins. “Fuck yes, really – I’ve been planning this shit since halfway through book one,” he says, and Derek has to swallow a little hard because that’s around the same time he’d started picturing Stiles’ two main characters as him and Stiles. “Speaking of,” Stiles says. “Is knotting a thing?”
Derek sloshes the milk everywhere.