Summary: "Mates." Derek says, like it's just that simple.
"No." Stiles says, because it's not.
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Or; that one time Kami wanted a mate fic that didn't have everyone falling all over each other in love as soon as they were told they were mates. (Mate fics can be problematic but I love them so much)
The Do's and Don'ts of Domestic Living [A Failwolf Fic]
Part One: Don't Be Afraid To Ask For Help
Stiles had been living with Derek for a month now. It took them a while to fall into a routine, still sort of adjusting to being so close to each other all the time. Stiles was odd as far as Derek was concerned. He couldn't cook, per se, but he made small meals to save them from ordering out every day. He did the dishes every night, or at least every other, and had started harassing Derek until he took out the garbage when it got full. He grocery shopped. He did the laundry and only messed up once when he stuck his red hoodie in with a load of whites and turned almost all of Derek's underwear pink.
He still swears up and down it was Derek's fault anyway since he was the one who decided to come up behind Stiles and start mouthing all up and down his neck.
It was very. Domestic. And Derek had a lot of mixed feelings about it.
"Suck it up, buttercup." Stiles told him playfully, swatting him with a dish towel when he found him sulking at the kitchen table one evening. "You keep glaring at that tea cup, you might break it."
Derek looked at Stiles who just laughed some more and headed to the fridge. "That look doesn't work too well on me anymore. Not since I was probably seventeen."
"It's not a tea cup." Derek huffed in reply, unable to come up with anything else.
"I can smell the chai. If there is tea in it, it is a tea cup." Stiles pulled out a can of soda and pointed it as if to prove a point and laughed a bit. "I have to go meet up with Scott for a bit, you'll be okay for dinner?"
"I'll be fine." Derek raised an eyebrow, "I mean I survived this long without you burning my meals for me."
"Oh ha ha. Funny guy over here."
After cracking open the can of soda and downing half of it in one go, he leaned down and wrapped his hand around Derek's neck. "Don't eat your steak too raw, wolf or not that can't be good for you. I'll be back around seven." He said before pressing their lips together in a quick kiss.
And then he was gone. It had been 5 years since he'd met Stiles, and in all that time he still couldn't adjust to the way he could suddenly vamos. For someone who took so long to come into his long limbs, he had definitely mastered the art of coming and going without much notice when he wanted.
Derek sat and glared at his tea for a little longer before deciding to try to be a contributing part of this domestic life he'd found himself living in.
He was going to cook dinner.
After dumping his cup in the sink he looked around the kitchen. There had to be something simple he could make that was a step up from mac and cheese but a step down from a full blown gourmet meal.
Spaghetti and garlic bread it was.
♡ ♡ ♡
Stiles got home at 7, just as promised. He didn't really expect to come home to much after his afternoon of following Scott around trying to find the ring that was just right for Allison. If anything, he hoped to flop down on the couch and kick at Derek until he let him sprawl across his legs and they could just watch TV together. League of Their Own was on tonight and he wanted to watch it. He knew Derek would groan but he liked baseball as much as Stiles did and he had no doubt that, if he hadn't already seen the movie, he'd like it.
What he didn't expect to find was Derek sitting in the kitchen, still sulking, but this time covered in spaghetti sauce. He really didn't expect to see the oven open to let out the smell of burning and scorch marks on the wall.
"What did you do!" Stiles couldn't help the laugh that escaped him when he asked. He really couldn't. Derek looked so sullen and everything was a disaster and he had only been gone for like four or five hours, tops.
"I was going to make dinner for you." Derek huffed, not looking the least bit pleased with Stiles' laughter.
"Yeah but you didn't have to blow up the kitchen to do it!" Stiles sorted through his mirth. He had to sit down on the floor, trying really hard not to let tears escape because he was laughing that hard.
"The sauce was bubbling over and when I went to grab it and fix it, the garlic bread caught on fire. I...I don't know..." Derek trailed off and just glared at Stiles who was now laying on the floor, shaking with silent laughter. "Why did I let you live here?" He asked rhetorically, getting up and stalking away.
After a little while Stiles got himself under control again and sat up. Surveying the damage, he sighed a little and knew that it was in no ones best interest to take pictures and text Scott. He did it anyway because it was too adorable not to share.
Then he set about cleaning up Derek's mess.
The thing was, aside from the burnt toast in the sink and the splashes of sauce up the wall and on the stove top, the food was made. And well. Stiles was impressed really. He wouldn't have called it a fluke, just a series of unfortunate events that lead to Derek being too hard on himself. Which really wasn't that unusual anyway.
After the clean up was done, Stiles loaded up a plate with as much spaghetti and meat sauce as it could hold and took it upstairs with two forks to the bedroom where Derek was hiding in.
"Look!" He cooed, presenting the plate to Derek with a beaming grin, "Dinner wasn't ruined after all. Want to share it?"
Derek looked at him like he'd grown an extra limb and Stiles just rolled his eyes.
"Scoot over, grumpy gills. We are going to watch a movie about women playing baseball and enjoy this delicious spaghetti you made all by yourself. It will be a nice night and hopefully we won't fall asleep with meat sauce all over the sheets, okay? Okay."
Stiles nudged and poked at Derek until he shifted over and there was room for Stiles to cautiously climb up on his knees and settle in beside Derek which precariously balancing the plate in one hand.
Derek begrudgingly turned on the TV they had mounted in their room (a master bedroom with no TV in it is just blasphemy, was what Stiles had said when he made Derek put it up) and changed it to the right channel with Stiles' badgering.
It was only after the food was gone, the plate abandoned on the nightstand, and Stiles was slumped against Derek's shoulder completely invested in the movie they were watching did Derek finally relax. There was a commercial break and Stiles turned his head to press a kiss to Derek's shoulder.
"I panicked, I didn't want to burn down the house." Derek admitted, causing Stiles to sit up a little straighter and give him a curious look.
"You're a goose." He huffed, tugging Derek closer to kiss him. "You wouldn't have let that happen. You're a bit better than that, I think."
"I am not a goose." Derek grumbled, but he let the smallest hint of a smile tug at his lips as he settled into Stiles' side. Stiles simply smiled and rest his head on Derek's shoulder again as the movie came back on.
Summary: Figures it was you.” A dramatic beat and then Stiles pushes his way into the clearing. Not stumbles, but walks with a sure and steady gait. “Did you miss me, Derek?”
“Stiles?” Derek manages to spit out. He knows, he knows because he can feel it with every single sense he possesses. Yet his first reaction is deny, deny, deny. His brain kicks back on after the shock of seeing Stiles and he sputters on, “We’ve been searching for days. Scott thought the Alpha got you.”
“He did.” Stiles all but drawls, “And then I got him.”
---
On the hunt for a rogue Alpha, Stiles goes missing. When his scent is lost, everyone begins to panic. When he reappears, Derek is faced with a new Alpha, and a new challenge. Suddenly Beacon Hills isn't home to one wolf pack, but two.
Chapter One: Just Give Me The Word (And I’ll Be There)
Chapter Two: Don't Look Back (Give Me Something To Believe)
Summary: The make me bleed bit was fun and new and a little dangerous and maybe that’s why Stiles loved it so much. It also worked both ways, and Stiles would be a liar if he said that wasn’t another reason why he enjoyed it.
Like now, when he found himself crowding Derek across the room, getting so into his personal space he had no choice but to step back and back until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed and Stiles shoved him over. Everyone made it seem like Derek was some sort of predator, but he didn’t hold a flame to Stiles on the hunt for something he really wanted.
Summary: You are Stiles, and you are in love with a werewolf. Werewolves are dangerous, but they are no danger to you. Werewolves are deadly, but they are resilient and will not die. Werewolves are tactile and you belong to them. You are Stiles, and a werewolf is in love with you.
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Inspired by a Richard Siken poem, and taking on a similar format, this piece can almost be considered poetry itself. Except I'm pretty sure I'm terrible at poetry.
Prompt: Body Exploration, bottom!Derek (and only if you squint really hard)
Summary: Stiles was still processing the fact that harpies were a real thing. Not at all pretty and a lot of claws and wings and general screechiness that was not a lot of fun. He didn’t have time to deal with Derek right now. He did, if he wanted to. But Derek decided to not come around for a good month and a half and suddenly he wanted back in. Stiles may have been an expert in rejection but that didn’t mean he had to take it from anyone except Lydia. So no, he didn’t want to.
Or; The one where Stiles and Derek cuddle at night sometimes and have fights, then have to battle harpies before they can make up again.
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Written for Bree. It's not very good and I'm kind of ashamed of myself.
Summary: "I think there's a direct correlation between Christmas and smiles. I think that you're like a math equation. Take the holidays, subtract family, add guilt. Multiply by how many years and I think you tried to divide by zero somewhere along the way and that's just catastrophic."
"Stiles..."
"I'm just saying that I miss being able to spend Christmas with someone too."
Summary: Derek wishes that the sun would rise and wake the sleeping teenager tangled up in his bed beside him. Wake him so that he doesn't have to. So he can give him a stern glare and remind him of what an inconvenience he can be.
But the sun doesn't rise and the teenager doesn't wake. Instead he lets out a few hushed murmurs and twists himself further into Derek's side.