Work Text:
Contrary to what everyone else says, Stiles doesn't spend all of his time with Derek. He spends most of his time with Derek, not all. There's a difference, thank you very much. Like today, for instance.
Today, Stiles is deep in the preserve, tending to one of his five herb gardens. After all the crap they'd gone through in high school, Stiles decided to put his mere 'spark' to use. He dabbled in many forms of alchemy now, storing magical supplies all over Beacon Hills so nothing was all in one place.
All of his herb gardens are protected with wards, this one more so though, as it is his biggest. Nothing even remotely supernatural can get through his wards; no werewolves, no kanimas, no banshees, no witches or warlocks, no wendigos, no supernatural beings of any sort. Excluding him, of course. But for all the wards he places there is always one sort of evil that can penetrate even the most potent magick. Weeds.
Weeds are the work of the devil as far as Stiles is concerned. Something about magick attracts weeds like moths to the flame.
His herbs are doing really well. Full, green and lush. The weeds were fairing the same though, Stiles grumbling as he dons his floral gardening gloves and sits down on the damp earth to pull the fuckers out.
He's been sitting there in the dirt for just over two hours when a deafening bark has Stiles falling back in a flail, small rake that he was using to get rid of the weeds flying in god knows which direction.
Whipping his head towards the source of the bark, ice blue eyes set in a lupine body are smirking at him just outside the entrance to the garden. The giant black wolf chuffs out a breath that Stiles thinks is laughter, anger settling in as he realises the human beneath the wolf. "Fuck you, Derek! Seriously not cool!" Stiles yanks off one of his floral gardening gloves and throws it in Derek's direction, quickly followed by the other glove when he misses the first time. The second glove hits Derek's front paws harmlessly, the wolf looking up in amusement once his eyes settle on the pattern of the gloves.
"Smirk all you want, asshole, but those wards make this garden douche-proof." Stiles grumbles out, stretching out an elbow that he whacked on the hard earth when Derek surprised him. Derek fixes him with a look that Stiles translates into meaning, 'I'm aware of that, thanks'.
Stiles hasn't seen Derek in his full shift form a lot, the man never needing to go that far very often. He's beautiful in his wolf form, and the more Stiles looks at his dark coat the more his fingers itch to bury themselves in his thick, black fur.
Distracting himself from actions that would most definitely end with bitten off fingers, Stiles gets up to hunt for his small rake, thinking it might have flown off somewhere in the bay leaves.
Once he turns his back on the wolf, Derek whines in such a pitiful way that Stiles has to turn to look at him with an eyebrow raised. But Derek is just sitting there, looking up at the trees like he's deeply interested in whatever is up there.
Frowning, Stiles goes back to hunting for his rake, not finding it in the bay leaves. He moves on to looking in the surrounding herbs, brushing them aside with his fingertips to see around their roots when Derek lets out that awful whine again. When Stiles turns this time Derek is looking down at his front paws. "I'm not playing this game with you." Stiles yells across the garden, twisting back to look for his missing rake.
The moment Stiles looks away Derek is whining again. "A-huh, keep it up, your evil plan to get me to look at you is totally working." Stiles scoffs, ignoring Derek. He keeps brushing aside his herbs, eyes on the look out for a hot pink mini rake. His whole gardening kit was a gift from Kira and Lydia, the two thinking themselves funny for the girly equipment.
When Derek realises that Stiles isn't going to turn around again he changes the pitch of his whining, throwing in the odd sprawling howl every now and then. Listening carefully to Stiles heart rate, how his breath shortens and quickens, and watching his jerky body movements - Derek quickly figures out the noises that Stiles finds the most annoying, then makes them on a loop. It doesn't take long at all for Stiles to reach the limit of his tolerance.
"Right!" Stiles turns around and charges the annoying dick hiding beneath the fur, tackling the wolf to the ground.
Derek quickly recovers, pinning Stiles beneath his massive form. Stiles retaliates by knocking his legs out from under him, laughing and moving on to a different leg in no understandable pattern once Derek recovers with snarls and nips to any exposed skin on offer.
Losing this battle quickly, Derek changes tactics, coating Stiles' face in as much saliva as he possibly can. It works, Stiles' arms flying up to both defend himself from further licks and futilely wipe away the slobber on his cheeks. Stiles laughs to the point where breathing becomes a battle, shoving Derek's muzzle aside so he can turn over onto his side to try to calm down and get his lungs back in working order.
Derek lays himself down next to Stiles, snout close to Stiles' face. He watches the boy regain his breath, smiling happily at Derek.
"Don't bite me, ok?" Stiles says, reaching gingerly over to pat along the length of Derek's body. Derek shuffles closer so Stiles can reach more of him, settling his head back on his paws comfortably. Closing his eyes, Derek listens to the forest around him, alive and rustling. He listens to Stiles' resting heartbeat, erratic even when calm; skipping the odd beat, tripping over itself, faster on the inhale, slower on the exhale.
Stiles' fingers eventually travel up to rub the velvet of his ears, Derek opening his eyes to see Stiles' gaze transfixed on is own fingers. "You're ears are so soft, Derek."
Derek grumbles an agreement, moving away from Stiles' fingers to stand up on all fours, shaking his head then his whole body. He makes sounds akin to a chattering husky at Stiles before trotting away to get on with the rest of his day, content with knowing where exactly Stiles is now.
Stiles watches Derek leave, watches until he can't see the wolf anymore. Picking his floral gardening gloves back up, Stiles goes back to trying to find his small rake, only a quarter of his herb garden left needing to be weeded.
So much for a day not spent with Derek.