Derek leaves his toothbrush at Stiles’s ;)
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“Stiles? What’s this toothbrush doing here?”
“What toothbrush?” Stiles yells from his room, almost falling out of bed in surprise. He’d been nearly asleep. He and Derek didn’t really sleep that much last night, if you know what he means.
“The toothbrush that isn’t either mine or yours, son,” the Sheriff calls back, sounding unamused.Stiles attempts to backtrack from his earlier thoughts. His father had probably heard the loud clatter of Stiles falling out of bed.
He tries to recall why an extra toothbrush would be in the bathroom.
He’d told Derek to use the bathroom in the hall this morning since he had to shower, still half asleep. The stupid dumbass must’ve left it there.
Stiles eyes widen, and he trips onto his feet, opening the closed bedroom door a bit to scream back, “It’s mine! I mean, um, uh, mine fell on the floor so I grabbed one of the extras!”
The Sheriff doesn’t seem to buy it. “Why didn’t you just wash it?”
“What, the extra?” Stiles plays dumb, hitting his head against the wall in helplessness.
“No, Christ, Stiles. Your toothbrush – when it fell on the floor,” his dad explains.
“It was on the floor for a really long time?” Stiles tries.
“It doesn’t look that dirty right now.” He pauses, and Stiles can imagine his turning the toothbrush over in his hand for evidence. “Why didn’t you just throw it out then?” the man finally asks.
This is definitely the Sheriff fishing, and oh god, Stiles could not let him catch anything.
“Um, I don’t know,” he continues the act, “must’ve forgot!”
There’s the sound of the sink opening, and soon, Stiles can only hear the sound of teeth brushing.
Woah, that was close. He can feel his heart in his ears. Stiles has half the mind to text Derek and complain, but just returns to his sprawl on his bed, closing the door and then already drifting off again.
A couple moments later, he can’t really tell, he feels distinctly strange, so he opens his eyes.
To see his dad standing in the now open doorway of his room, just watching him, Derek’s blue toothbrush in hand.
He doesn’t exactly jump a foot off the bed, but it sure feels like it. Recomposing himself, he realizes that he’s still shirtless and in his pajama pants. Belatedly, he pulls up the bedsheets to his chest, trying for casual.
By the way his father raises a brow, that is not how it comes across.
Stiles swallows. “Hey… Pops, that door was, uh, closed, um, what’s up?”
“Whose toothbrush is this, Stiles?”
He stutters. “I – I already told you! It’s mine.”
“Stiles, I can see the hickeys through your bedsheets. Which are white.”
Stiles looks down at his chest and finds that his dad’s excellent observation is correct. The hickeys are quite obvious… and huge. Shit again. He crosses his arms over the worse of them. His dad brings a hand to his forehead and tries to smooth out the stress wrinkles forming in exasperation.
Stiles laughs nervously. “Huh, um, about that…”
“Jesus Christ, kid,” the man exhales, looking expectant once more after running a hand through his hair. “Whose brush is this, Stiles?”
“I don’t think you know them, really, it was just a onetime thing, really, don’t worry about it, not gonna happen ag—”
“You don’t let someone keep a toothbrush at your place if it isn’t serious, Stiles.”
He sputters. “What? No, that’s one of our extras, I swear, remember,” he tries, praying his dad buys it, “we got a bunch of those for Scott. That’s no one’s toothbrush.”
He’s met with a signature Stilinski eye roll. The one that says I don’t buy your bullshit, please try again. “All our extras are bright pink.”
Stiles falters. That is true.
“You must’ve, um, missed it,” he attempts once more. He is rightfully ignored.
The Sheriff walks over to where Stiles is lying in bed. He scrambles to cover more of his hickeys by bunching up the bedsheets and lying on his side, smooth as usual. His father just shakes his head to the heavens before handing over the toothbrush.
Stiles blinks. Okay, that was easy.
His dad’s not done yet. “Tell Derek to come over tomorrow morning for breakfast if he wants his toothbrush back.” The Sheriff turns around, already headed out as he talks, leaving Stiles dumbstruck. “He’s gonna have to talk to the actual owner of the house before he’s allowed to leave his toothbrush in the bathroom.”
Stiles tries to come up with a literate response and eventually, after his dad has gone halfway down the stairs, he exclaims, “Derek? Who said anything about Derek?! Why is he coming to break—”
The Sheriff already knows he’s won, and the shamelessly un-pitiful tone of his voice proves it. “I was mainly guessing, but thanks for the confirmation. Either way, Stiles, there are beard burns all over your neck, son. And I remember when you dated Malia, those scratch marks only come from werewolves.”
Bright as a tomato, Stiles pulls the useless covers over his head and muffles a scream in his hands.
He’s never letting Derek use the bathroom again. God.
Thanks for reading, hope you liked it! reblog and like if you did, means a lot <3
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