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Mutual Love For Sterek: Recruiting Members!
If you're a fan of Sterek and enjoy discussing it and/or creating art of it in any form (fics, art, gifs, etc.) with other Sterek fans, come and join us!
We'd love to have another member in our (regrettably small) group. You'd be invited to the blog so that you can post if you'd like to, or to share any ideas or anything like that.
To apply/join, send an ask! (There are no requirements, just say you're interested)
Mutual Love For Sterek: Recruiting Members!
If you're a fan of Sterek and enjoy discussing it and/or creating art of it in any form (fics, art, gifs, etc.) with other Sterek fans, come and join us!
We'd love to have another member in our (regrettably small) group. You'd be invited to the blog so that you can post if you'd like to, or to share any ideas or anything like that.
Group blog: http://mutualloveforsterek.tumblr.com/ To apply/join, send an ask!
Caffeine Dreams
A coffee shop AU oneshot that I felt like writing. May become a multi-chapter fic.
There he was again. The unkempt, smirking and sarcastic college student that he was surprisingly coming to like. He ordered his caramel latte with whipped cream as usual, giving an amused look whenever Derek scowled at him. He slid the finished latte onto the table, giving the kid an unimpressed look at the witty banter thrown at him all morning.
“So he’s like, “You’re not gay, not dressed like that,” and I just balk at him. Like, what’s wrong with my fashion sense, y’know?” Derek raises an eyebrow. “Okay, I may not be model-worthy in my clothing choice--” he scoffs. “--but I’m not that bad. I’ve seen gay guys dressed worse than me.” The stubbled man shakes his head as if he can’t believe that he has to serve someone like this every day.
He grabs the latte - which is not hot anymore - and gulps down a long sip. Derek’s eyes flick to his hands, noticing how they look like they belong to a pianist. “Ah, perfect as usual, my love,” he comments, smiling. He rolls his eyes and turns toward the coffee machine to clean the nozzle. The face full of moles huffs and pouts at the fact that he was not responded to.
“Anything else, Stiles?” Derek asks, confused that Stiles is just standing there. He watches with mild interest as Stiles bites his lip and looks down at the counter between them.
“Uh, would you li--” Another voice interrupts him.
“--Hey, Stiles! Fancy seeing you-- here…?” the Asian-looking girl says awkwardly, as if noticing she’s interrupted something.
“O-Oh, uh-- hi, Kira.” he greets, smiling at her nervously. “Uh, yeah--” he says, finally glancing at Derek. “--I come here a lot, aha.” Stiles adds with a laugh. Derek squints at his awkwardness.
“Yeah, and orders a drink that could definitely give him cavities.” Stiles glares at him.
“Well, at least I don’t hurt my health by drinking black coffee without milk or sugar.”
They bicker back and forth for a while before Kira smiles brightly at the pair of them and comments quietly (and least she must have thought it was), “You bicker like an old married couple!” The two snap their gaze toward her and go red.
“Wha-- we’re not--”
“We would never--” Kira laughs at them.
“When’s the wedding, eh, Stiles?” she elbows him in the side playfully. He goes redder than a tomato and coughs.
He mutters something under his breath that sounds an awful lot like, “Probably never,” before grabbing his latte and walking off, dejected. Derek swallows the lump in his throat as he watches Kira chase after him worriedly.
It’s a week later when Stiles checks in again, getting his sugary fix of caffeine. He doesn’t meet Derek’s eyes when he orders his coffee, and that makes him upset somehow. Though he doesn’t look at him, he does glance up for a second and give him a small smile. After he leaves, Derek’s eyebrows knit together in both confusion and hurt.
- - - - -
“Hey! I’m Scott, came to pick up a carame--”
“--mel latte with whipped cream?” Derek questions blankly, though he already knows the answer. “Can you talk to him for me?” Scott cocks his head to the side like a puppy.
“Dude, I’m pretty sure he talks to you more than he talks to me, and I’m his best friend.” Derek frowns at that.
“He hasn’t talked to me in at least two weeks.” Derek answers with a look of, “Are you serious?”
Scott’s eyes widen a fraction at that, and he hears him curse under his breath before he grabs the latte that Derek has just finished writing ‘Stiles’ on and slaps the money down on the table. He hardly has the time to ask, “What?” before Scott is rushing out the door, as if in a hurry.
Derek squints at the door and shakes his head slowly before sighing heavily. He’s not sure what the hell he did to make Stiles avoid him, but it must’ve been pretty bad. His teeth clench together as he tries to figure out what he might’ve done. The expression on his face must be a scowl because when the next customer comes in, - while he’s still squinting at the door, mind you - they look confused and slightly terrified.
- - - - -
“Fuck me.” Stiles groans, slumping into the couch.
“Dude, we’ve been over this.” Stiles rolls his eyes so far back into his head he thinks he set a world record.
“Scott. I swear to god. If you sass me one more goddamn time, I’m going to cut you open and donate your organs to Jackson.” Scott’s face scrunches up in disgust.
“Point taken.”
“Dude, why did your dumb girlfriend have to ruin my great plan?” he huffs exasperatedly.
“First: the plan was not that great, it was the most simple plan ever. Second: Excuse you, my girlfriend is amazing.” Stiles shoots a disapproving look at him.
“You only say that because you have great sex.” Scott flails.
“Oh my god, Stiles! She’s not a sex object!” he objects, and Stiles scowls at him. “You’re not still mad about the fact that you’re still a virgin and I’m not, right?” Scott asks and Stiles pouts.
“No, no I’m not--” he cuts himself off, holding in the words he was going to say.
“Sorry dude, but I can’t exactly change that fact.” he says with his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. His lips upturn into a devilish smile. “Stiles. Seriously. I’m your best friend. Not your friend with benefits.” Stiles laughs at that, glad that his teasing still gets to Scott.
- - - - -
He’s cleaning the mugs when a familiar disheveled hairstyle catches his eye. The next thing he notices is his hazel, doe-shaped eyes. His break is in a few moments, which he’s pretty sure Stiles should know by now. His frown remains on his face until the end of his shift, and as soon as the student notices, he walks up to the counter and is greeted by the employee he’d switched with, Erica Reyes. The frown deepens.
“Uh, hi. could I order a--”
“Caramel latte with whipped cream?” she rattles off with a flirty smile, but then again she flirts with everyone.
“Uh, yeah, actually. How did you--”
“Derek.” she smirks as she jerks her head toward him. The man in question is trying to hide behind 'A Tale of Two Cities' as he drinks his bitter beverage. Somehow he’s not surprised that Stiles doesn’t even spare a glance at him. “Lover’s spat?” she asks nonchalantly, creating the cavity-inducing concoction.
Stiles sputters for a few moments before composing himself and answering, “Uh, no. I just-- Kind of-- I don’t know.” he sighs, defeated as he holds his arms onto the counter and leans his head on them. He then props himself up on one arm and cards a hand through his hair.
“I don’t know.” he replies simply, sighing as he pays for the drink and walks out. Derek is almost tempted to follow him and see what’s going on, but knows that it wouldn’t be right considering the distance Stiles has put between them. He skulls the rest of his coffee down grumpily, not caring that it’s still scalding hot. Even reading a novel by Charles Dickens is cheering him up. That’s saying something, considering his intense love for reading.
- - - - -
They’re in the middle of running from the cops on Grand Theft Auto V when Scott decides it’s the perfect time to talk about an uncomfortable topic. “Why aren’t you talking to him, anyway? It’s not like he did anything wrong.” Stiles sighs at his friend and gives him a considering look before shaking his head. He’s not exactly eager to talk about it.
“I know that, I know that perfectly well, but it just feels awkward whenever I talk to him, or see him, or hell, even hear him. It’s just so awkward going back to that coffee shop. I even waited for him to get on break so I didn’t have to face him.” Stiles babbles guiltily. Scott gives him a look that would put the cutest puppies to shame and pats his back reassuringly.
“Well, you could, y’know, talk to him.” Scott suggests innocently. Stiles gives him a look like he’s asked him to cut off his own arm.
“What? No.” he immediately refuses.
“Dude.”
“No.”
“Dude, seriously.” Stiles sighs at him.
“What would I even say? “Oh, I tried to ask you out on a date but my best friend’s girlfriend interrupted and made things awkward. Sorry, it wasn’t your fault. No hard feelings, eh?” Really, Scott? In what universe would that ever work?“ he retorts.
“This one?”
“You snarky little shit.”
“Learned it from the best.” He breaks out into a grin, despite all his efforts not to.
“Hell yeah, you did.”
- - - - -
“Time to face the music, Stiles. Be a man. Don’t ignore your problems.” he encourages himself, laughing self-deprecatingly at his personal pep talk. He was so screwed, and he knew it the moment the bell rang above the door as he waltzed in. Derek, who was working his shift, jerked his head toward Stiles. Their eyes connected for a moment before Stiles cleared his throat and looked away. “Hey, Derek.” he greeted simply. Derek gave him a suspicious look before nodding slowly in response. “Uhm-- I wanted to talk.” he says as Derek starts to create his latte. The bulky man raises a brow at him.
“About?” he responds abruptly. Stiles bites his lip and chances a glance at Derek through his lashes.
“Uh-- About the other day…” he trails off, feeling more awkward than that one time he knocked on the wrong door for a party. Derek just stares at him silently, as if trying to figure out how the conversation is going to go. “I’m sorry,” is the first thing he blurts out.
“Why?” Derek asks, looking as if he has neither accepted or rejected the apology.
“I’ve been avoiding you for a while--” Derek scoffs, as if what Stiles said was the most obvious thing in the world (which to be honest, it really was). “--Anyway, I’m sorry about that.” he apologizes.
“Why were you avoiding me?” Shit. The one question Stiles wasn’t hoping wouldn’t come up in conversation.
“Uh-- Well, because of reasons?” he replies, unsure what answer would get him out of trouble. Something seems to snap in Derek, because he lunges forward and grips the front of Stiles’ shirt, tugging him forward so that he can look directly at him.
“Stiles. Tell me what the fuck happened before I pour hot coffee all over you.” he threatens, before releasing Stiles’ shirt. Stiles jerks back in slight fear. He chews anxiously on his lip and takes a shuddering breath before swallowing.
“I… I was uh-- Interrupted when I was-- Uh.. Shit.” he stops, looking down at the seemingly interesting counter. “Okay, okay.” he says to himself. He looks directly at Derek as he says in an even tone, “I was trying to ask you to join me after your shift ended.” The look on Derek’s face melts into something somehow adorable. His eyebrows are knitted together, - as usual - but he looks confused, hopeful even.
“What? Why?” he asks, mouth slightly open in bewilderment.
“To drink coffee together?” Stiles raises a brow at him.
“Yes, I figured, smartass, but why me?” Stiles chuckles at the ‘smartass’ comment.
“Maybe because I like you?” he says innocently. The tips of Derek’s ears go pink. He wonders if he needs his hearing tested, because is this really happening right now? The shit-eating grin on Stiles face tells him all the information he needs.
“Then maybe you should have asked.”
“Maybe I was trying to.”
“Maybe you should have tried again.”
“Maybe I was scared.”
“Shut up and kiss me.” Stiles grins like a cheshire cat and leans over the counter to kiss him. He wraps his arms around him and gives a chaste kiss to his cheek. “That’s not a kiss.” Derek complains as he yanks Stiles forward and kisses him hard. They pull apart soon after, Stiles looking dazed as Derek grins wider than he has in years.
Lost Baggage
Prompt from lcgnrs on tumblr: panicked yelling in unison because of lost baggage in between connecting flights
"Where the hell are our bags?!" the mole-covered man yells. The staff member he was talking to visibly sighs (and rolls their eyes, might he add) at his antics.
"Sorry for the inconvenience sir, but I think your baggage got mixed up," the employee monotones. A bearded man next to him growls.
"We’re in between connecting flights, we need our baggage right now!" he bellows, looking more than frustrated. The employee - his name badge says his name is Trevor - looks a little scared and slips closer to the younger-looking male.
"We can’t be stuck in Oregon, we need to get back to California! Derek booked a flight with your company specifically so that this shit wouldn’t happen!" the male grumbles, clenching his teeth together.
"Find us our luggage. Now." Derek orders, scowling at Trevor. He pales and scurries away to try to find their luggage.
"What the actual fuck?" the man next to Derek asks.
"This, Stiles, is why we should never trust customer reviews online." Derek comments, exasperated. Stiles rolls his eyes at that.
"We’re never traveling again. Let’s just go sightseeing in California."
"I’m pretty sure we didn’t do any sightseeing while we were here."
"Oh yeah? I think I saw a lot of sights." Stiles grins at him with a suggestive waggle of his brows.
"Stiles."
"Yes?"
"Shut up."
- - - - -
"Sorry for the wait, your baggage has been located." Another employee approached them, wearing a fake smile on their face. Derek sighed and asked them to lead the way to their bags. "Right this way, sir!" the employee said cheerily, smiling widely at Derek - so genuinely that it struck a cord of possessiveness inside of Stiles.
Derek raised a brow at Stiles when he noticed and smirked, picking up their luggage and taking it over to Stiles.
"There, everything solved. No need to get all worked up about it." Derek assures as he sets a few bags of luggage down in front of Stiles.
"You were worked up too, Der-Bear," Stiles retorts as he picks up the bags.
"Don’t call me that," he complains as they watch toward the boarding area.
"I don’t know what you mean, Der-Bear." Stiles grins at him.
"You’re hopeless." Derek shakes his head at him and they go through the metal detectors.
"I know, but you’re hopelessly in love with me." He was obviously waiting for a retort, some sort of denial, but Derek didn’t give him one.
Dylan
