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Derek loved Stiles. He honestly did. Stiles never hesitated to stick up for him, but still bantered with him like they had back when they were not-friends. He would drape himself over Derek and watch documentaries with him, and discuss the validity of werewolf portrayals in retro horror films. On weekends he’d come to Derek’s loft with take-away and homemade cookies and stay until Derek was fighting to stay awake. He was a great boyfriend, and Derek was lucky to have him, but sometimes he could get a bit off track.
“You sure he isn’t going to hurt Stiles?” he asked, handing a grape soda to his guest before sitting down beside him on the partially rebuilt Hale porch. “Might not be too cold, most of the ice in the cooler has melted.”
“I am sure it will be fine, thank you,” Cas - an angel of all things- said, giving a slight nod of the head. “As for Dean would never harm a human.”
Derek grunted, watching Stiles yell at Dean near their cars, the hunters brother standing nearby and trying to calm them down. Dean shared Stiles’ propensity for layers and plaid, and Derek was more than a little concerned that they’d stop arguing and realize they actually had things in common. There was no way that couldn’t end terribly.
“They still arguing about whether or not the Argents are assholes?”
“No, they have shifted their attention to the topic of which of the two of us is more ‘badass’,” the angel said before taking a sip of his soda. Frowning Derek tried to listen in, snorting when he realized the current point of contention was whether the Camaro counted as badass or not. He’d never admit to Stiles that he agreed with Dean – his car wasn’t anywhere near vintage enough to really count. It would only lead to him landing in the proverbial dog house, and he didn’t need any more bad canine jokes in his life.
Taking a sip of his own drink – orange soda for him – Derek leaned back against the step behind him, rolling his eyes at Cas’ straight-backed position. Apparently angels couldn’t relax. At all. “They’re idiots.”
It earned him a nod from the Angel, who was watching the proceedings with seemingly rapt interest. “I love Dean, but there are times when he is far too easily distracted by ridiculous things.”
With a snort, Derek shook his head. “Worked out for me, at least. Last thing I need is another hunter trying to kill me.”
“I wouldn’t have allowed him to shoot you. It was made clear rather quickly that you aren’t the feral sort of werewolf the Winchesters are used to dealing with.”
“Yeah,” Derek said, letting the quiet wash over them as he tried not to think about the Omegas the angel referred to. He could still hear Stiles in the background, shouting about how at least Derek dressed like a badass, instead of a tax accountant. It was hard to believe that two hours ago the Winchesters had shown up, and Derek had thought the day would end in a broken treaty. Now he was relaxing with an Angel while his boyfriend flailed about and yelled at a man who could easily have been his brother in another life.
“It was pretty impressive, the way you snuck up on us. Doesn’t happen often.”
“Thank you. Dean says I have a tendency to loom,”Cas said, soda bottle dangling from his fingertips. “It amuses him, I think.”
Derek nodded, putting his own empty bottle down beside him. “Stiles likes to call it lurking. Says it’s part of my creeper-charm. I just like watching him flail in surprise.”
The Angel gave a small smile, turning his head slightly to look at Derek. “It is rather satisfying to hear Dean swear when I surprise him. Unfortunately he has come to expect my appearances directly at his shoulder.”
“Angel at his shoulder,” Derek said, rolling his eyes. Stiles would get a kick out of that. “The trick is switching it up.”
“How so?”
“Don’t always stand right behind him. You need to give it some variety. I tend to alternate between standing in the corner, and then just behind the treeline,” he said, thinking back on the multitude of times he’d scared Stiles. “Try showing up just in his periphery. Always makes Stiles scream like a five year old.”
Cas nodded, turning his attention back to the arguing that had once again heated up. “I will keep that in mind. Thank you.”
Shrugging, Derek ran a hand through his hair, smiling as Stiles gave a full body flail. “My biggest issue right now is the entrances. We’ve gotten in enough tight spots that he’s gotten used to them all.”
“I recommend causing the lightbulbs to burst while simultaneously blowing the doors open.”
Derek paused, blinking slightly, before leaning forward to try and catch the angels’ eye. “What?”
“It was how I made my entrance when I first met Dean here on earth. I entered the barn where he summoned me that way, and although it has been years, he still informs people of it,” Cas said, pride coloring his words.
“I’m not sure that’s in the werewolf book of tricks. It would probably just go on the list of failed attempts.”
Cas nodded, resting his soda bottle carefully between his feet. “I understand. I have had a few ‘failed attempts’ as well.”
With a snort, Derek leaned back against the steps again. “When I first met Scott and Stiles, I pulled a few looming tricks. Had to intimidate them, make it clear who was in charge. Scott was being an idiot about his new abilities, and I went to his room to try and scare some sense into him. Only, apparently Stiles could see me in the webcam. He gave the whole thing away. Still scared Scott, but it wasn’t half as effective as it could’ve been.”
It was always a bit weird, thinking back on those early days. He hadn’t anticipated just how pivotal a role Stiles would end up playing in his life. Or how completely Scott would fight learning anything about being a werewolf. Derek really did have idiots for pack mates, but God help him he wouldn’t replace any of them.
Except maybe Jackson, who was still a douchebag all these years later.
“Technology does make entrances much more difficult at times.”
“Yeah? Computers gotten in your way before, too?”
“Computers, no. It is Dean’s vehicle that tends to cause me trouble,” Cas said, frustration coloring his words.
Derek snorted, looking over to the Impala that he really wanted to get a good look at. Maybe when Stiles and Dean stopped arguing about whether hell-related badassery should be admissible or not. “Explain.”
“One of my preferred….’tricks’, is appearing in the rear seat of the Impala while they are travelling. There are times, however, when it is difficult to anticipate exactly where I have to land, especially if Dean is changing speeds or turning. I am only lucky that they have yet to see any of these unsuccessful attempts.”
That got a chuckle out of Derek as he easily visualised the Angel popping up just outside the car. He’d missed his mark more than once when he was first teaching himself how to make a grand entrance. But still, he could beat that.
“You ever seen any of the classic werewolf horror movies?”
Cas nodded, motioning towards his boyfriend slightly. “Dean has forced me to watch a plethora of ‘classic’ films, many of which were in the horror or sci-fi genres.”
“Yeah, well, one time I was making an entrance on this big showdown between my pack, some hunters, and some vicious fairies,” he said, wrinkling his nose at the memory of the fairy-stench. “Running on all fours, in a partial shift, classic werewolf form.”
“Yes?”
“I get into the warehouse after pulling an impressive jump, and sticking the landing perfectly. And then my uncle saunters in after me, completely casual, like he had all the time in the world. He didn’t even have his eyes shifted. I looked like a complete tool.”
It earned him a tsking sound, the angels lips pulled down in a sympathetic frown. “It is exceedingly frustrating when other supernatural creatures don’t assist us in our attempts to make an effort.”
“Exactly. You’d think they’d respect what we’re trying to do.”
“A few years ago we were battling….several forces, actually. But one of them was Eve, the mother of all evil. She trapped us in a town in Oregon, essentially ‘grounding’ me from all flight, which I did not know until I attempted to leave and do research for Dean,” Cas said, huffing slightly. “Dean mocked me for weeks after the incident.”
“The mother of all evil stops you from flying, and he mocked you for it?”
“Relentlessly.”
“Dick move,” Derek said, before frowning slightly at the insult. Stiles was rubbing off on him too much if he was saying things like ‘dick move’ and ‘douchebag’.
Sighing he shook his head, leaning forward slightly as Sam stepped in between Stiles and Dean, exasperation written all over his face. Why he hadn’t just given up on logic and let them bicker it out themselves like he and Cas had, Derek wasn’t sure. But if Sam wanted to waste his breath trying to reason with him, that was his call.
Watching Stiles pause, momentarily losing track of his argument, made Derek roll his eyes slightly. “When Stiles and I first started going out, I let him have a key to my loft in case of hunters, or anything. I heard him come in when I was in the bath one day, so I slipped out and got dressed and decided to impress him a bit.
“I made just enough noise to make sure he’d know I was there and be watching, and then I pulled out all the stops when I went to meet him. Leaping off walls, backflips, the whole bit. Only when I landed, he’d gotten distracted by a book Isaac left there the week before.”
It still hurt his pride to think about it some days. He’d worked so hard to impress Stiles in those early days, and half the time his ADHD would kick in before Derek could finish. At least they’d finally been dating long enough that he no longer felt the need to remind Stiles why he should be with him.
Cas nodded, watching his own boyfriend affectionately. “They can be frustrating,” he said, fondly.
“That’s one word for it,” Derek replied, though he couldn’t help smiling slightly at the sight of Stiles’ cheeks flushing as Dean said something that was apparently particularly offensive. He could hear his boyfriends squawk easily from where he was, and schooled his features into as neutral an expression as possible just as Stiles turned to look at him in irritation.
“Derek! Would you just rip his throat out?” Stiles said, teeth gritted while Dean just rolled his eyes and grumbled about idiot kids.
“No,” Derek said, knowing Stiles would be distracted as soon as he set eyes on the journal Sam was reading in lieu of dealing with them anymore.
“Ugh! You are the worst werewolf boyfriend ever. Seriously,” was the exasperated response, Stiles spinning back around to continue yelling at the hunter. It made Derek smile slightly. Stiles was adorable when he got worked up like this.
“Thinking on it,” Cas said from beside him, “I believe there are devices used in television that would mimic the entrance I suggested to you earlier. I could retrieve one from Hollywood for you, if you would be interested.”
Grinning, Derek nodded. “That would be great. I’ll use it next time Stiles is being a brat. Or maybe our anniversary.”
Cas gave a nod of his own, smiling slightly in return. “That would be romantic of you.”
“Yeah, it would, wouldn’t it?”