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"Am I wrong? Do you secretly love modelling? Because if you do then fucking A man, get your coin, but if you're—"
"I can't fucking do anything else!" Derek snarls, and fuck. The shock of it, of finally saying it out loud, startles him out of his beta shift and into silence.
Stiles squints at him. "You mean—" He drags his bottom teeth over his top lip, eyes darting between Derek's. "You mean that literally, don't you. You think you have nothing else to offer."
"I don't have a college degree. I don't have any real life experience or transferable skills," Derek says roughly. "I'm not—a people person. Money and connections only get you so far. Most people don't— it's not worth it."
He knows Stiles hears what he's trying really hard not to say.
That he's not worth it.
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Beacon Hills is experiencing a heatwave. Derek finally comes home. Laura has to go to a wedding. Stiles has an inconvenient crush. And then everything crashes together, and Laura wishes she could just go back to bed.
Alas, Laura Hale never gets what she wants.
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Any dregs of self-respect Stiles thought he had have gone up in smoke in the wake of Pretty Man turning to leave, because he looks fantastic. Better than Stiles could have hoped to imagine. Add that to the obvious intelligence, the ease with which he bantered, the infuriatingly sexy/sexily infuriating cockiness, and the tenderness he displayed for his dog and he's pretty much the most perfect person Stiles has ever met.
Great. Good. It is so awesome to know that the complete package apparently exists. Stiles lives for knowing things like that about unattainable, super-hot dog park people.
Really.
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Last week Derek turned thirty, and Laura thought it would be "beneficial" to sign him up for The One That's The One. Laura has a Match, but Cora doesn't, and she seems to like it that way. Cora thinks the concept of soul mates is bullshit.
Outwardly, Derek agrees with her. Deep down inside, Laura knows him better than anyone.
All of which is why call-me-Stiles is currently standing in his home, at five past midnight. Standing in his home, touching his stuff, and talking.
How the fuck did he think this was a good idea?
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Stiles tries not to be pissed off at the world in general, but it's fucking hard.
He's twenty two years old. He should be out there, living his life, doing… whatever it is normal dudes in their twenties are doing. But he's not. He's doing this. He's getting fired from the job he barely started and wasting his degree and spending days at home alone, mostly laying down because anything else puts too much pressure on his lower spine. He's relearning how to walk and remembering the time his surgeon looked at his scans for the first time and said, "Well, it sucks to be you." He's thinking about about how when he gets home his dad will probably have to shower him, because he's been in the pool for half an hour and he's fucking exhausted.
There's a lot to be pissed off about.
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"Wait," Stiles says. "I don't even know you, how can I be sure this isn't some kind of—"
"Because I don't care."
Stiles throws up his hands. "If you don't care then why are you helping?"
"I don't know, why did you help me?" Derek counters.
"I don't know! I just—" He shakes his head. "Someone is obviously orchestrating all this, right? The Maze, the Glade, the demons? Not exactly naturally occurring phenomena. Someone put us here on purpose, locked us in here, maybe forever. It's us against them, if we don't help each other then who will?"
Derek stares at him. "Have you always been so sentimental?"
Really, it serves Stiles right for trying to be nice for once. No wonder he's usually an asshole—he's surrounded by assholes and it's the only language they speak. "Ugh, fine, just grab a weapon and let's go."
"Don't need one, remember?" Derek grins—grins!—at him, incisors bared, and curls the claws of one hand in towards Stiles' face.
"Show off," Stiles mutters.
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"Oh hey," Derek says, turning back, "here's something, I need a list of anyone that could go undercover at the pageant. Think you're up to it?"
"Listmakers are the real heroes of America," Stiles says, smiling his most obnoxiously fake smile, just for Derek. He adds a double thumbs up for extra effect.
"By the end of tomorrow," Derek calls over his shoulder.
Stiles flips him the bird.
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Derek likes Stiles a lot and he doesn't know what to do with it... but Laura does.
AKA five times Laura pushes Derek and Stiles together and one time she almost doesn't… but then she does.
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"Derek," Stiles says, firm. His hand is warm on Derek's shoulder. "I'll be okay."
"You didn't leave me," Derek argues. "How can you expect me to leave you?"
Stiles rolls his eyes. "Oh my god, it'll be fine. Even if I am captured, I'm just a boring human. They wanted you for your Lycan blood."
Derek crosses his arms. Mainly so he doesn't wrap his hands around Stiles' throat in an attempt to throttle some sense into him. "That's fine. But this isn't a time when being a boring human is an asset. This is a time when being a boring human results in a shot to the head."
"Derek," Stiles says again. He steps closer, so Derek is surrounded in his scent, his chemosignals—namely unwavering, resolute determination, distinctively sharp and entirely unbreakable—clouding Derek's mind. "You'll come back for me." He sounds so sure, and he can tell the exact moment Derek gives in. Because Derek somehow always gives in to Stiles.
"I'll come back for you," he confirms. "And you better not be dead."
Stiles grins, eyes sparkling with far too much humour for someone who potentially just sacrificed himself for a surly Lycan and bunch of strangers. "You do say the sweetest things."
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I've Got The Magic (Everybody Knows) by suchfun for roonil_w4zlib
Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)
24 Dec 2016
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Stiles gets a determined look in his eyes. He takes a breath. "Help me, Derek Hale. You're my only hope." Then he pulls a face, and Derek feels his own face mirror it. "Yeah, that felt really gross, let's never do that again. But I do need your help. These guys don't know who I am, my like, name or face, but they can track my magic, so I need to not have any for a while. I know a spell that can do that, but it'll also take my memories, so I need you to look out for me. Just like you used to." He smiles crookedly, sadly, and Derek feels something inside him clench painfully. "I promise wouldn't do this if I had any other choice."
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"That was stupid." He bats the kid's hands away and rearranges the items in the bag. He's mixed canned goods and dairy, does this kid even know how to efficiently pack a bag? "The TiMER is a gift." He says it automatically, because that's what his mom says. That's how he was brought up. That's what he's supposed to think.
He used to believe it, back when he was sixteen and idealistic, before he actually got his TiMER, back when he was so sure that his soulmate would be Paige. Back when he believed in the romcoms, in his mom's books, in the elaborate advertisements for TiMERs—the ones with all the interviews with loving real life couples, with testimonials to their effectiveness and their ability to make you happy and fulfilled, with guarantees of an improved quality of life and even life expectancy. Back when he thought meeting his soulmate was an inevitability, not a slim possibility.
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Stiles smells different.
It wasn't obvious at first—his car, his clothes, the people closest to him, they all smell enough like his old scent that it overpowers anything new. As far as emotions go, there's the usual anxiety, stress, tension, exhaustion, guilt.
But the base notes of his scent, the primary olfactory information anyone would use to track Stiles, are… stronger now, and not in a way that relates to being unwashed. They're sharper, more noticeable, less human and more…
Magical.
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It's like the stars have finally aligned, and Laura doesn't think she has ever had, or will ever have, another parenting moment this pure in her whole life.
"Okay fine," she says, cutting Cora off just as she's opening her mouth to complain some more. "You can date."
Cora's mouth drops open. "Seriously?"
"Yeah, sure, why not, you can totally date." She pauses, letting the moment build, letting the hope build in Cora's eyes, before qualifying, "When Derek does."
The look on Cora's face makes every parenting crisis Laura's ever had (of which there have been many over the past three years) worth it.
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Stiles can't believe his luck when it turns out that yes, this challenge actually does involve them working in teams.
He goes right on back to believing it when he's paired with Derek.
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Years ago, when they were first starting out both in their relationship and their careers, when they were babies and hardly understood their car insurance let alone the multi-billion dollar, all-consuming, world-encompassing, life-altering business of news reporting—back then, Derek would practice his expressions in the mirror, and Stiles would think, I'm so glad he'll never have to use that face with me.
And then Stiles screwed up, and he's seen nothing but that face for the past two years. Aesthetically, it's still an awesome face, and it probably always will be, but Derek is so much more than another hot dude. And he always will be.
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Derek walks in—Derek, Derek from last night, Derek from this morning, Derek—walks in. He walks in, sees Stiles, and freezes.
Stiles blinks, staring, thinking maybe he's imagining things, but it's definitely Derek—he's even wearing same clothes, just with a confused scowl instead of a self-satisfied smirk. Also, a plastic pirate hook is gripped in his left hand, which is the worst non-attempt at a costume Stiles has ever seen. Ever. It's ridiculous.
Stiles swallows roughly. "If you'd had that last night, things might have gone in a totally different direction," he says inanely, nodding at the hook.
...it's possible that Stiles is fixating on the hook. Because if he doesn't, then he'll have to think about the fact that the one person he would ever want to impress in this world is seeing him in probably the stupidest items of clothing he's ever let touch his body.
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"I met a guy, we had a thing, and now he's stalking me. Wow, wasn't that a sweet fairy tale for the ages, now we can all sleep happily." Declan gets up, tries to push past Derek to get to the door, but Derek shoves him back down.
"Who was he?" he pretty much growls. "If he was an—"
"He's an alpha in training," Declan says, a combination of like fifty percent gleeful, forty percent smug and the tiniest percent contrite. From the way it seems to be directed at Derek, their relationship is even more messed up than Stiles thought. "Son of the Wirth pack Alpha."
"The New York Wirth pack. The pack that took Laura and me in after our family— after the fire." Derek clenches his jaw. "Their alpha was an ally!"
"I'd say... not anymore?" he replies lazily.
Okay, fuck this guy, seriously. "Wow," Stiles says. "Even though I know that's all front, because yeah, hi, like ultimate bluffer sitting right before you," he gestures to himself, "I still think you're a giant douchebag."
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Fly Toward A Secret Sky (I Won't Let You Fall Remix) by sunsetglow (suchfun)
Fandoms: 2PM
03 Feb 2014
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"Hey," Khun says, calling him back. He's attempting not to smile, but trying to hide emotions is pretty useless around Taecyeon. Taecyeon knows him better than anyone. "You like me."
Taecyeon raises his eyebrows. "Who doesn't?"
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Chansung is the only one who keeps in regular contact. Nichkhun doesn't hear much from the other members, but they're busy. They're training to defend their country.
Nichkhun is catching up on Gossip Girl.
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Right from when he gets up far too early, through his hurried shower and breakfast and drive to the hospital, through to his pre-rounds and everything in between, all Chansung can think about is Khun.