Natural Selection at its Finest
By:RavenGrey1469
Derek is sitting at the kitchen table, chatting idly with Sheriff Stilinski as they both wait for Stiles to come downstairs.
“More coffee, Derek?” The Sheriff asks politely, standing up and reaching for Derek’s cup.
“Please.” Derek replies, picking up the mug and handing it to the Sheriff.
They’ve been waiting on Stiles for the better part of a half-hour. It seems that Stiles has either completely forgotten that he was supposed to come downstairs to eat breakfast, or he just doesn’t care that their food is getting cold, because he has yet to make an appearance since he stumbled down the stairs earlier to tell them he was going to take a shower. Well, his form of communication was less speaking, and more grunting if he’s being honest. But luckily, both Derek and Stiles’ father are fluent in Stiles’ primitive morning language. The dark-haired nineteen-year-old seems to regress to caveman speech in the mornings, which Derek refuses to admit that he finds adorable in any way.
The Sheriff returns, setting Derek’s refilled coffee mug on the table before taking his seat across from Derek. They both have a direct view of the stairs, so they see Stiles’ shadow when the young man starts to descend. Derek sighs. He can practically smell the oncoming disaster.
Stiles seems to pause, and Derek can hear him fumbling with something, catching the sound of metal, probably an eating utensil, clacking against a plate or bowl. Now, let it be known that Stiles has never been graceful. He lost that right when he tripped over an imaginary crack in the sidewalk a few years back and broke his nose. To this day, Stiles swears that there was a slight indentation in the sidewalk that impeded his walking abilities, but everyone knows the truth. There was nothing there. Nothing, other than Stiles’ uncanny ability to fall, trip, stumble, and any other act of clumsiness you can think of. Stiles could probably find a way to hurt himself with a stuffed animal. Actually, now that Derek thinks about it, he already has. Derek shudders. That is not a memory he wants to relive right now. How anyone could manage to get a paper cut from something soft, fluffy, and filled with stuffing, is beyond him. But, it’s Stiles, so he really isn’t all that surprised anymore.
Stiles continues his descent, pulling Derek from his thoughts. Derek and the Sheriff’s eyes connect and they share a knowing look, trying to decide if they should take preemptive measures, or if they should just let this play out and see what kind of catastrophe Stiles will get himself into this time. They eventually decide to just let it happen. They care about Stiles, they really do, but everyone needs a bit of humour in their lives now and again.
In preparation, Derek takes a deep breath, looks directly at the staircase, and says, in his best impression of a documentary narrator, “And here, you can see the endangered Stiles in his natural habitat.”
As if on cue, Stiles yelps and comes tumbling down the stairs in a flurry of clatters and thuds, eventually winding up at the foot of the stairs in a heap with cereal and milk splattered on his face and clothes. He just sits there for a moment, slumped against the bottom stair with an impressive pout on his face. Derek decides to continue his narration.
“It is clear that natural selection is coming for this specimen.” Stiles whips his head up at Derek’s words, his glare losing most of its heat due to the bits of cereal that have stuck to his face and hair.
“I heard that.” He mutters, flopping his head down to look at the cereal bowl that is now lying in scattered pieces across the floor.
“I know.” Derek replies simply, still staring at Stiles with an unimpressed expression, mildly wondering why he chose this particular human to be the love of his life. And then he remembers everything else he loves about Stiles. He’s witty and smart, and he always knows just what to say. And, even though Derek loathes the thought, he even loves Stiles’ clumsiness. It’s just another piece in the ever-changing jigsaw puzzle that is Stiles Stilinski. Suddenly, the Sheriff’s voice cuts through Derek’s musings.
“Where in the hell did you get the cereal?!”
Stiles looks up at his father, then back down at his recently deceased cereal bowl, then up at his father again, a dismal and serious look on his face.
“I don’t even know anymore, dad.”
Derek chuckles lightly. Leave it to Stiles to have cereal magically appear in his hand just in time for him to fall down the stairs and spill it all over himself. It’s yet another thing he loves about Stiles. He has comedic talent, even when he isn’t trying.
“Do you need a minute?” Derek asks humorously.
“Yeah… I’m going to need a few minutes, actually.” Stiles says sadly. Derek and the Sheriff stand from their seats at the table and begin heading toward the kitchen.
The Sheriff goes and pats Stiles on the shoulder as he passes. “Alright, son; Take all the time you need.”
With a smile and another laugh, both men leave Stiles to grieve both the loss of his cereal and his dignity.
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