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Stiles maintained that it was Lydia’s fault.
Lydia coerced Stiles into helping her shop for the end of summer party. Being dragged around the Beacon Hills mall on the arm of Lydia Martin as little more than a glorified shopping cart wasn’t really how Stiles imagined their epic romance beginning. Not that there was ever going to be an epic romance. And Stiles was surprisingly okay with that idea.
Still, prowling the mall for decorations, party favors and the ultimate pair of heels was quite a bit less than the fun times Lydia promised. To be honest, she never actually implied Stiles was going to have fun.
Lydia was dedicated to the idea of a luau. After exhausting all possible choices at the local party store, the big box toy store and, for some unknown reason, Home Depot, Stiles found himself in a tiny, crowded store filled with all sorts of eclectic toys and games. It was geek heaven. Stiles wandered off to examine the anime section while Lydia headed to the back and the bins of tiny plastic toys. When he looked for Lydia to show her the cool figure he’d found, she was nowhere to be found. Toy still in hand, he wandered around the store looking for her when he found the ducks.
An entire set of bins filled with rubber ducks of various persuasions – some small, some large. For some reason, he remembered Derek refusing to pay at the diner the other day and the sudden image of a rubber duck on the dashboard of the Camaro seemed like the perfect way to get back at his passive-aggressive bullshit. He tossed the figurine aside and began pawing through the choices in front of him. He paused at the bin filled with rubber duck-dogs and kept on. He really didn’t have a death wish, no matter what Derek might think.
And then, there it was, buried in the back of a bin full of zombie ducks was one lonely little ninja. A duck dressed completely in black with throwing stars. It was perfect. He snatched it up and was about to run to the register when a perfectly manicured hand reached over his shoulder and pulled out a duck dressed in a Hawaiian shirt.
“Well, now. If that’s not adorable. Great idea, Stiles. Here,” Lydia ordered as she began filling Stiles’ hands with every luau themed duck in the bin.
After nearly dropping them twice, he dumped them in the pocket he made out of his t-shirt and followed Lydia obediently to the register. She just raised one eyebrow at him and handed him the ninja duck with a shake of her head.
“Oh, yeah. I was gonna get that one. S’cool, dontcha think?”
“Stiles. Really,” Lydia smirked, her voice dripping with disdain.
“Well, whatever. I like it.”
“Boys,” she mumbled, shaking her head.
After Stiles dropped Lydia and her booty off at her house, he headed home. The Jeep was grinding a bit between second and third. Maybe taking the Jeep over to Derek’s was the best way to sneak the duck into the Camaro. Derek would be engrossed with transmission repairs and he could pull a little ninja work while the werewolf was otherwise occupied.
Still, best to call first. Stiles pulled out his cell and held the number 5 button on his phone to speed dial Derek. His knee bounced as he drove with one hand, stuffing the phone between his ear and shoulder as he shifted.
“What,” Derek barked.
“What I have told you about phone etiquette, sourwolf?”
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Stiles?” Derek’s low growl made Stiles’ toes curl. He shivered and shook his head.
“Got any free time to play mechanic?”
“What’s wrong with the hunk of junk now?”
“Dude! Do not speak about my baby that way,” Stiles chastised. “She’s sticking when I shift from second to third.”
“You can come by tomorrow.”
“It’ll have to be early. I have to work in the afternoon.”
“Fine.”
Derek hung up and Stiles pulled his phone off his shoulder to look at it in bewilderment. Someday, he’d get Derek to do more than hang-up to end a call. For now he had the rest of the day to kill. Looked like it was time for that Buffy marathon he kept threatening to inflict on the pack. He’d still call it research.
Stiles woke up mid-morning the next day mumbling the refrain from “Under your Spell” from the musical episode of Buffy. He was not entirely sure why he was singing Tara’s solo, but he hoped a quick shower would dispel any lingering tendencies towards breaking out in song.
Showered and shaved, he headed out the door for Derek’s, stopping for a latte and pastries on the way. He rumbled up to the Hale house at 10:30 to find Derek standing on the porch, arms across his chest and generalized glare on his face.
“Is this what you call early, Stiles?” he called as Stiles slid out of the Jeep, muffin in his mouth and coffee and pastry bag in one hand as he fumbled with his backpack with the other.
Stiles bumped the door shut with his hip and grabbed the muffin, grinning around the pastry. “Uh, sorry?”
“Stiles. You’re disgusting.”
Stiles stuffed the last bite of muffin in his mouth and washed it down with his coffee as he joined Derek on the steps. He handed him the pastry bag and watched as Derek peered inside. For some reason that he was yet to completely understand, Derek loved the petite vanilla scones the coffee shop served. The bag held six. Derek grunted and reached in for one. Popping it in his mouth, he closed the bag and headed over to the Jeep.
“Keys.”
Stiles tossed Derek his car keys and watched as he drove off in his Jeep. Grinning, Stiles waited until Derek was out of sight to dash to the Camaro and slide into the front seat. Stiles wasn’t about to tell Derek, but he loved this car. Not as much as his baby, but it was an undeniably sweet ride. He took a moment to stroke the leather seats before digging in his backpack for the duck.
He held it in his hand and looked around the car. Where to put it? The dashboard was far too obvious and much too visible. The cupholder? No need to piss the man off if he couldn’t set his drink down. The console? Maybe. How often did Derek check the storage? It could be there forever. No, the point was for it to be found, not buried under receipts and maps. He decided on the tiny shelf in front of instrument panel. It was sure to be seen but not hanging out on the dashboard to embarrass anyone.
Cause Lord knows, he didn’t want to embarrass Derek. There might be blood. Or there could be wall-slamming. Once upon a time, getting slammed against vertical surfaces was terrifying. These days, not so much.
Hearing the Jeep’s trademark rumble, Stiles squeaked and jumped out of the car. He closed the door and moved to lean against the front end as Derek pulled up. He watched as the older man climbed out of his Jeep and tossed the empty pastry bag at his head.
“Not cool!” Stiles yelled as he batted at the empty bag aimed at his forehead.
Derek just sneered and stopped in front of the Jeep to open the hood. He pulled out a long dipstick, wiped it on a rag from his back pocket and reinserted it. Checking the fluid level with the clean stick, he twisted it to catch the morning light. Satisfied, he replaced it and shut the hood.
“You need transmission fluid.”
“That’s all?”
“Stiles, this…classic vehicle,” he self-corrected at Stiles glare, “is almost 40 years old. It’s a fucking miracle it still runs. A sticky transmission is the least of your worries.”
Stiles sighed and rubbed his hand over his head. “I know,” he whined. “But it has sentimental value.”
Derek looked at the Jeep and then back at Stiles. His trademark glare softened and he ducked his chin. “Your mom’s?”
“Yeah.”
Derek nodded and placed a hand on the hood of the Jeep in silent benediction. “She’s still got some life in her yet. Though if you’re going to keep it running, you need to learn how to work on it yourself.”
“I’ll be sure to sign up for auto shop when school starts,” Stiles snorted.
Derek’s glare returned and he pushed off the Jeep and past Stiles who turned to follow. Derek stopped at the front door and turned to stare at Stiles.
“Don’t you have work?”
“Not ‘til 2.”
Derek cocked his head and crossed his arms across his chest. Stiles shifted on his feet and looked away, nervous energy falling off him in waves. He bounced on his toes and resettled his backpack.
“So. I was thinking.”
“Do I want to know?”
“Ha. Yes. Since it concerns your pack. In a round about fashion. Lydia’s having a party. To celebrate the end of the year and all and since she drug me to the mall to shop for it I think it’s only fair that you make an appearance.”
Derek frowned and shook his head. “No.”
“Okay, then. I’ll just tell Lydia you said no. Hope you won’t miss your balls.” Stiles turned and headed back for his Jeep, tossing a wave of his hand over his shoulder. “It’s been nice knowing you.”
“The answer is still no.”
Derek was true to his word and stayed away from the party. He also didn’t mention the duck, which was rather disappointing to Stiles. Stiles expected some sort of recognition. Some remark from Derek, some growling at least, about the stupid duck on his dash. When none was forthcoming, he decided to continue; which is why he found himself back in the cramped store perusing rubber ducks. He bought three more ninjas in varying colors, two dog ducks and a zombie duck.
As summer vacation ended and school began, Stiles stashed all 6 rubber ducks in various locations. The Rottweiler wannabe found a home on the floorboard of the Camaro just to check that the ninja had been found (it was). Two landed in the train depot – one in Derek’s bed (a purple ninja tossed in from the door) and the other (the zombie) floating in the toilet. Another ninja duck ended up in Derek’s coat pocket. He snuck the golden retriever duck onto the front stoop of the Hale house at midnight the night before Labor Day weekend.
The only comment was from Isaac who’d found the one in the toilet. Stiles assumed that Derek found the ducks and just kept quiet.
Then the insanity with the alpha pack began and Stiles forgot about the ducks until he came across a Hawaiian shirt wearing duck he’d snagged the night of Lydia’s party. Remembering the party and the relative peace of the summer was a much needed respite from the shit storm that was his life.
So, the ducks started reappearing. A red ninja appeared before a pack meeting, hiding in plain sight on the mantle at the house. Scott found it and the pack tossed it back and forth between themselves as they worked on strategy until Derek snatched it out of the air. Another Hawaiian shirt-wearing duck hid in the freezer at the depot. Erica found that one when she went to retrieve an ice pack for Stiles after a run-in with the alphas. Her laugh went a long way towards breaking the tension that day.
The ducks stayed out of sight for a while after the final battle with the alphas. Stiles wasn’t in the mood after Jackson’s death. Levity seemed seriously out of place for a long while. He was too focused on helping Lydia grieve and Derek heal to find places to hide rubber ducks.
After Halloween and waking up on Derek’s couch at 6AM, Stiles thought it might be time to bring them back. Whatever the reasons behind buying the things he’d had at first, now he just wanted to find a way to make Derek smile. Getting caught had a certain appeal, too. So, the day after Halloween found Stiles with an even dozen ninja ducks sneaking around the Hale house after school. He’d ditched lacrosse practice so he could beat everyone out. Peter had finally convinced Derek to restore the house and they were buying supplies. The pack was scheduled to meet after practice and begin knocking down walls. Stiles hid ducks all over the first floor of the house before anyone arrived. Derek and Peter pulled up to find Stiles sitting in his Jeep reading. He helped them pull out the gloves, goggles, masks and sledgehammers needed for the demolition.
The pack arrived and began knocking down walls on the third floor. Stiles glanced around as he headed upstairs but saw no ducks. Derek must have snagged them all while he and Peter handed out the gear. It was kind of disgruntling how Derek found the ducks and never mentioned them. Stiles didn’t even know if he kept them or tossed them. He wasn’t even sure what had happened to the ones he knew for sure had been found. Maybe it was time to search the garbage.
Musing about where Derek might be hiding the ducks, Stiles’ attention wandered as he climbed the stairs. He headed down the hall on the second story and into a bedroom. He intended to hit the last bedroom on the left. He ended up on the last one on the right. His assigned duties today were to knock down the adjoining wall between the bedrooms. He settled the goggles on his face and swung the hammer onto his shoulder and finally looked up.
In front of him was a bookcase and on that bookcase were all the ducks, lined up in the order they’d been received except for one. The first one. The one that started it all way back when. The black ninja. It was on a shelf all by itself.
Stiles dropped the hammer to the floor and stood there, his mouth hanging open. He might have stayed there all afternoon if Derek’s bellow hadn’t startled him from his reverie.
“Stiles! Where the hell are you?”
Stiles grinned at the bookcase and grabbed the hammer as he ran out of the room. Derek already had a good-sized hole knocked into the wall in the room across the hall. He looked up as Stiles slid into the room and glowered.
“Stop screwing around and get to work.”
“Yes sir, alpha my alpha.”
Derek shook his head and swung his sledgehammer onto his shoulder. “Think we can take this wall down now?’
“Yep,” Stiles quipped, popping his P and trying to salute with the sledgehammer. He fumbled it a bit before placing it on his shoulder and grinning.
“Face mask.”
“But, Derek, people in masks cannot be trusted.”
“I hear they’re terribly comfortable. I think everyone will be wearing them in the future. Especially if they don’t want to inhale a lung full of sheetrock dust. Put it on.”
They both pulled their masks up and faced the wall. On the count of three they swung, knocking matching holes into the wall. They soon fell into a steady rhythm of swing and pull, reducing the wall to rubble.
Stiles kept quiet as they worked, thinking about the ducks in the room across the hall. If someone had told him a year ago that he’d be working side by side with Derek Hale he wouldn’t have believed it. Even more was the idea the Derek-freaking-Hale, alpha werewolf, master of the eyebrow brood and all around scary-yet-gorgeous dude would be quoting Princess Bride with him and collecting rubber ducks. It was madness. Complete madness.
It was also sort of glorious.