idk if youâre taking prompts or not but I saw that set of Holland Roden you reblogged earlier and I have a DYDIA prompt: Derek taking care of Lydia after she gets a sunburn or Derek is in charge of making sure Lydia has sunscreen properly applied so she doesnât burn
The sun is bright, the air is sticky, and everyone in Beacon Hills is out laughing and having a grand old time, so of course, that means Derek Hale is fucking miserable. Despite what Stiles likes to tell people, heâs not allergic to fun, but crowds make him antsy. There are always too many people bumping into him or trying to engage him in small talk and Derek hates small talk more than he hated Kate Argent and he really fucking hated her.Â
Truth be told, he doesnât really know how to talk to people. Heâs never had to. Having a traumatic childhood and an even more traumatic adulthood sort of means Derek is better at isolation than he is at being sociable. Scott, Stiles and those kids were the first group of âfriendsâ heâd had since high school and theyâre not exactly a normal group of friends either. Besides, theyâre so much younger than him; it didnât really feel like âfriendshipâ. Most of the time, it felt like he was babysitting children, especially if he had to spend more than ten minutes with Scott and Stiles simultaneously.Â
Watching them now, however, Derek has to admit he doesnât really have that excuse anymore. Theyâre not kids. Unfortunately (or maybe, fortunately, he hasnât decided yet) theyâre all adults now. Theyâre twenty-one and heâs twenty-eight, and fuck, where had the last decade gone?Â
Derek sighs, barely glancing at her as she comes to stand beside him. âWill that nickname ever die?âÂ
âNot when itâs still true,â she says, and he can practically hear the smirk in her voice, as she bumps her hip with his. âWhatâs your deal?âÂ
âNothingâs my deal,â he huffs because heâs an anti-social asshole and heâs never gonna change.Â
She chuckles softly. âGod, you really are allergic to fun, arenât you? Itâs a summer fair, Derek. Smile.âÂ
He turns to give her his most sardonic smile but freezes instead when he catches sight of her. He didnât have the chance to see her when she got into town yesterday afternoon and Lydia Martin hasnât been back in Beacon Hills in over a year, so seeing her now for the first time in far too long, Derek is dumbfounded. She was always a pretty girl but in a peripheral sense that didnât really register to someone seven years her senior. Fuck it if Derek isnât noticing her now though. Lydia is all soft smooth pale skin, bright copper hair that glints like itâs on fire under the glare of the sunlight and those full pink lips thatâs just begging for him to taste, and â Jesus fucking Christ, Hale, get a grip!Â
âWhat?â she demands, and suddenly, Derek sees the girl he used to know because that girl is scowling at him and itâs oh-so-familiar again.Â
âYouâre showing an awful lot of skin, Martin,â he points out, boldly fingering the thin strap of her sundress, and if his touch lingers just a little too long, she doesnât say anything.Â
âIs that a crime?â Lydia arches her brow. âI didnât realise you were such a fashion police.âÂ
Derek snorts. âYouâre going to burn. Have you even got sunscreen on?âÂ
âOh my god, what are you, my mom?â Lydia exclaims, but her lips are quirked upwards and thereâs a glint of amusement in her hazel eyes. âYes, I have sunscreen on.âÂ
âWhat SPF?â he asks because if he doesnât act like the babysitter with her, heâs going to flirt with her and thatâs just a bad idea. Adult or not, heâs still significantly older than her. Heâs known her since she was sixteen. Itâs wrong. Very fucking wrong.Â
Lydia rolls her eyes but she humours him. âFifteen.âÂ
âYeah, youâre going to burn,â Derek groans. He takes her by the wrist and starts to drag her from the festivities of the fair. She doesnât really protest, but he can hear her telling him heâs turned into a complete weirdo. He happily admits that he is. Maybe heâs just been alone for too long. Since they left for college, Derek doesnât really have much to do aside from drinking and poker nights with Parrish and his friends. Occasionally, Braeden will swing into town and theyâll fuck every which way to Sunday, but yeah, Derek has turned into a weirdo now.Â
âAre you seriously mothering me?â Lydia says, as they come to a stop in front of his car. Derek unlocks the backdoor and rummages through the gym bag he has in the back. He comes away with a half-used bottled of sunscreen SPF 30.Â
âIâm not your fucking mother,â he says with a sigh. âBut I am your friend, right? And youâre a redhead. Youâll burn in this sun.â
Derek squirts a dollop of sunscreen into his hand and then realises belatedly that that means he now has to touch her. He really did not think this through.Â
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