#they're so cool and i wish i could buy them outright | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

andavs · 7 years

Note

For the "I wish you would write a fic where..." thing: Derek is smugly singing "Scotty doesn't know" while Scott is around or he plays it while they're in the car with a smirk on his face. And obviously Derek and Stiles are together, but Stiles isn't ready to tell Scott, I don't know, something like that, pleaaaase :)))

There were a lot of misunderstandings in the pack, which was understandable; misunderstandings happened in any group of people, small and large, especially when most of them were too emotionally stunted to have a conversation that wasn’t 85% sarcasm. Which the Hale pack was. Because that’s what happens when an emotionally stunted twenty-two year old finds like-minded people to join his angst club.

So there were misunderstandings. Assumptions. Misconceptions.

Misconceptions like Stiles could do card tricks now because he was an emissary, or that Erica’s lewd sense of humor meant she was kinky in bed (she wasn’t, she’d drunkenly confessed as much after chugging a fifth of 151). The absolute lie that Isaac became cultured since he lived in France for a year, or the assumption that Jackson was anything spectacular in bed (he wasn’t, Lydia had drunkenly confessed as much after one shot of 151).

But by far, the most heinous misconception was that Derek was a no fun stick in the mud; a true Adult who went to bed early, only drank decaf coffee, and dusted regularly, or sat in silence reading every day.

The reality was that Derek played douchey music too loud, drove with a lead foot, and spent way too long getting his hair just right in the morning. That effortless stubble? Carefully maintained. He had a brush for his eyebrows.

If he had no plans, he laid in bed until well after noon, scrolling through articles on his phone so he could huff indignantly at them and roll his eyes.

He had a secret cookie stash behind his bran cereal, a weird fascination with deep frying food that he never indulged in beyond buying interest magazines about it, and for some god awful reason, he knew all of the names of the people from Jersey Shore.

He snored and drooled, didn’t always clean up the hair after he trimmed his beard, and occasionally had days where he watched hours of cooking shows and only got off the couch to pee or brush chip crumbs off himself.

Stiles knew all of this to be true because he had personally witnessed all of it, and had found stubble sprinkled across the sink on more than one occasion. He’d woken up to nudging and a phone in his face and Derek’s exasperated, “Read this, can you believe these idiots?” He knew way too much about how to deep fry everything from ice cream to entire pigs, because sometimes he forgot his phone and that was the only type of reading Derek left in the good bathroom. He’d watched three two hour specials on making soufflé in one sitting, a dish that neither he nor Derek had any intention of ever attempting.

Stiles knew all of this to be true because despite the rampant emotional stuntedness all around, he was dating Derek—fairly successfully, he might add. Maybe a high B+ with the points deducted for the time he tried deepthroating and burped on Derek’s dick.

That aside, they were doing great, Stiles was happy, loved, terrified of screwing it up, he’d kill a man with his bare hands before doing anything to risk it—standard butterfly kind of flutters.

So when it came time to tell the pack about them...he flaked. Like a dry scalp in winter.

(Which, coincidentally, Derek also had.)

He wasn’t ashamed or anything, god no, who could be ashamed of dating Derek? Stiles was just...bad enough at relationships under the best of circumstances, and it was going so well, so why tempt fate by changing things and adding variables to the equation? Variables like a pack of werewolves looming and cracking their knuckles at him, just waiting for him to mess up, which would no doubt make him mess up spectacularly.

Stiles might be the Hale pack emissary with Scott on his side, but the betas would always favor and protect their alpha. Jokingly fluttering his eyelashes at Derek had already gotten him a “hurt him and I’ll rip your spine out through your asshole” talk from Erica while Boyd stood behind her, face blank, not blinking once.

And unfortunately, it was not a misconception that Boyd would kick his ass if given proper motivation.

So yeah, no pressure or anything.

The one time he’d (drunkenly) confessed his fears of ruining everything if anyone knew, Derek lovingly called him a dumbass and then got him water and put him to bed, and that was also the last time he’d been so understanding about it. Because apparently Derek was the date type—datey dates, with candles on the table and holding hands in nice shirts, which was a real shock to Stiles and only Stiles, because no one else knew.

They all kind of assumed on some level that he was the same hermit from their high school days who avoided people like the plague and growled if you got within ten feet of him, which was yet another misconception, because Derek liked leaving his apartment and often did. Sometimes for hours at a time just because. And sometimes even with Stiles. Maybe even for a few days, which Stiles would definitely be saying yes to as soon as he managed to come up with a cover for why he and Derek would be gone at the same time without arousing suspicion.

And then he’d made the mistake of saying that out loud, which ended up in another fight about their whole secret relationship right before they were supposed to pick up Scott and drive four hours north to meet another pack. Which was great, because as it turned out, the only thing worse than an outright pissed off Derek, was a passive aggressive Derek, which was a Derek that Stiles didn’t have much experience with.

Another common misconception the pack held about Derek was that he was the adult in the group and listened to NPR and audiobooks, and was too mature for trolling. But because that was entirely wrong, and because he grew up in the years of manually making playlists before Pandora or Spotify, he’d made a playlist for the drive. On a CD.

I’ll keep you my dirty little secret—

Stiles skipped to the next song.

Baby when you got a secret love—

Next.

Daytime friends and nightime lovers—

Next.

Scotty doesn't—

Stiles slammed his palm across half the dashboard to turn it all off and glared.

Derek smirked behind his stupid sunglasses.

Scott made a slightly disappointed sound in the backseat, because he always kind of enjoyed songs with his name in them.

“How do you even know this many songs about this?” Stiles hissed, barely moving his lips as if that would keep Scott from hearing.

“It’s a pretty popular topic,” Derek shrugged lazily, not taking his eyes off the road. “Right up there with breakups.”

Stiles’ stomach dropped.

“Scott, we’re dating!” he all but shouted, only to be answered with a bored,

“Cool.” Scott sounded distracted, like he hadn’t even looked up from his phone for this massive revelation and brand new information. “Can you turn the music back on?”

Derek was smirking again, and he didn’t even have to say what Stiles knew he was dying to rub in his face: their relationship hadn’t imploded the second the words left Stiles’ mouth, nothing had changed, Stiles wouldn’t have to tuck and roll onto the freeway.

Nothing to worry about.

They were good.

“Wait, was I not supposed to know about that?” Scott asked, somewhat delayed as he dragged his eyes from his phone, because it was another misconception that Stiles and Derek were anywhere close to subtle about their relationship.

#sterek #ficlet #happy halloween have a fic that has nothing to do with halloween!#time for me to go drink #Anonymous #prompts

898 notes · View notes