One, Two, Three, Four
“Do you think Peter would use his powers for evil?” Stiles asks, only half paying attention to the television.
Derek’s eyebrow arches at that and asks, “What powers and what else would he use it for.”
“Intonation,” Stiles reminds him. “It’s just that I’m pretty sure he’s been dictating my choices as of late.”
“What.”
Flailing his arms wildly, he says, “Yeah! Remember that time at the movies? I was totally gonna get Twizzlers but then I smelt popcorn and went for Whoopers instead.”
Ever the voice of reason, Derek points out, “Stiles, we were at a movie theatre. There was literally popcorn everywhere.”
“Fine, what about that time I was ordering pizza? I was totally gonna order a Hawaiian but then bam! Popcorn! And I ended up ordering a pepperoni instead! You know who doesn’t like pineapple on pizza? Peter doesn’t like pineapple on pizza.”
“Coincidence,” Derek says, unconvinced.
“One’s an incident, two’s a coincidence, and three’s a pattern,” Stiles retorts, “because remember that time we were in the woods walking the dogs and I was all like, ‘We should make out.’ And you were all, ‘No, Stiles, because I’m a total killjoy.’ And then I smelt popcorn and was all like, ‘Never mind, let’s not.’ Do you remember that?”
Derek frowns in thought. “Vaguely and not at all how you described it.”
Stiles huffs and throws himself back against the couch, slouching and crosses his arms. Only, his arms can only stay still for so long before he throws them back up. “Am I going crazy? Is that it? Agh, whatever! Wanna watch Star Trek? We can put on the latest movie.”
“Sure,” Derek answers with a shrug.
Getting up, he makes his way to the Blu-ray player when he suddenly stops and looks around. “Oh my god, am I actually going insane? Derek, I’m smelling popcorn again. Am I having a stroke? Wait, no, that’s burnt toast. Is it me? Do I smell like popcorn?” He sniffs at his clothes. “I don’t even—hang on, I’m gonna go change. I don’t even understand.”
Stiles runs out of the living room and with an excited bark, Ham Bone (the newest addition to his ‘dog army’) picks up his ball and chases after him because any sudden movement means play and no one can tell him otherwise.
Watching the two leave, Derek scowls and walks over to the pantry door where a couple of the dogs are sitting in wait. He opens it, revealing Peter sitting on a stool with a fan in his hand and a bowl of fresh popcorn in his lap. “This needs to stop—how long have you been sitting there?”
“Not that long, but probably longer than you’re guessing,” Peter answers vaguely.
“This needs to stop,” Derek says again.
Peter sulks and makes a face. “I don’t like what Abrams did to the franchise.”
“Well, you can just deal with it from in there.”
Rolling his eyes, Derek raises the remote and changes the channel only to have the title menu for the Princess Bride pop up just as Stiles returns in a fresh set of clothes and Ham Bone in tow. “Oh, hey! The Princess Bride! I love this movie! Let’s watch this instead!”
Derek turns back to Peter and narrows his eyes in accusation. “You planned this.”
Popping a piece of popcorn in his mouth, Peter grins. “Inconceivable.”
Just binge read all of the RAPILA dribbles and (absolutely love them btw) I was wondering if you could write one derek and stiles say 'i love you' for the first time?
Very Serious“That is very serious,” Derek says, looking over hisshoulder to his cell phone screen where he had just changed the wallpaper toone of the two of them.
Stiles nods. “Oh, it’s veryserious.”
“Now people are definitely going to get the right idea aboutus.”
“I know, right? Next thing you know, we’ll be filing out ourtax forms together—superno-nonsense serious.”
“It’s that serious?”Derek asks mock-gravely, arching a brow.
“Indeed. Have I scared you off for good with thisseriousness?” he asks back, trying to keep his face straight.
Derek scoffs. “Are you turning this into a serious off?”
“Maybe I am. Why? Think you can one up me on this?” hechallenges.
“I bet I can.” Turning the chair around so they comeface-to-face, Derek grabs onto the arm rests and leans in. “This Saturday. You.Me. Dog shelter.”
It takes all his self-control not to laugh. “Why? Are youputting me up for adoption?”
“Would that I could, but no. Stop snickering, Stiles. Thisis serious,” Derek says, his lips involuntarily curving upwards.
Stiles takes a deep breath. “Right. Serious. Dog shelter.Why?”
“To pick out a dog,” Derek says, his tone suggesting thatnothing could’ve been more obvious.
His eyes widen. “Wow, that is serious. You’re letting me pick out a dog for your dog army?”
Derek’s eyebrows seem conflicted about what emotion theyshould be expressing, so they settle for confused but amused. “That’s not how Iwould’ve worded it, but yes, I am letting you pick out a dog for my dog army.”
“Der-Bear, that’s like ‘I love you’ serious.”
“Well, I do.”
He laughs and slaps the other on the arm. “Save it for thewedding—wait, what?”
“What do you mean ‘what’.”
“Intonation,” he automatically responds. Then he continues, “Imean I love you and now you have to say it back to me because you totally do,right?”
“I love you?” Derek repeats uncertainly.
(Out of all times for him to learn how to intone properly, ofcourse it had to be now.)
Pinching himself, Stiles gapes. “Oh my god, this is real.This is very serious.”
Derek chortles. “Oh, very serious. Have I scared you off forgood with my seriousness?”
There’s a pause between them.
Stiles can feel his face turning redder by the moment, andjudging by Derek’s ears, he’s not faring much better. “I love you, Derek,” hesays again, quietly, savoring the way it feels on his tongue.
“I love you too,” Derek replies softly.
They gaze into each other’s eyes for a long moment…then
“NO TAKE BACKSIES!” he suddenly shouts, leaping out of his chairand running out of the room.
From down the hall, he can hear Derek laughing.
With his hands on his face to hide his burning cheeks, unableto contain the big, dopey grin on his face, he leans back against the wall and laughsalong.–A/N: Here you go! Hope you like it!
Seventh Take
As with most of his ideas, it seemed like an absolutely perfect plan—until it didn’t.
“This is absolutely perfect, guys. It’s like, foolproof this time,” Stiles reassures them.
Derek chuffs. “That’s what you said the last six times.”
He bobbles his head in a way that makes Scott clutch at his neck and wince. “Yeah, well, if at first you don’t succeed, try, try…try, try, try, try again, you know? And also, those last five times don’t count. I thought we agreed that those were nothing but bad dreams created from our collective imaginations.”
“I thought that was only the first three times,” Scott says.
“After the third time, I thought it’d be a given—no, you know what? Forget those times, we’re living in the now. We’re gonna rock this and it’s going to be an awesome seventh take of a first double date between bros,” Stiles declares.
“Just to clarify, I’m still the one dating Scott, though, right?” Allison teases.
Stiles grins. “Yep, he’s all yours. I wouldn’t fight you for him in a million years. Not with your hunting skills and those dimples.”
Their seventh first double date goes great—until it doesn’t.
They’re all sitting at the pizza parlour and arguing over whether certain toppings belong on pizza or not when something on the floor underneath their table catches Stiles’ attention. He subtly leans over to take a better look at it only to nearly fall out of his seat when he sees what it is.
A condom.
Derek reaches over and grabs him by the back of the shirt to pull him back up. “What are you doing?”
Stiles laughs a little too loudly all while digging through his pockets to see if that thing is his. “Nothing! Who’s doing anything? Not me. I am not doing anything, which, by most definitions, means I’m doing nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
The looks he gets from the other three is enough to convince him to never pursue acting as a career.
“So how about those mozzarella sticks on pizza? Are they an abomination or what?” he says, trying to steer them back on track.
(And away from the condom on the floor.)
Scott, dear, sweet, mostly predictable Scott, falls for it. “But I thought you liked mozzarella sticks on pizza.”
With the conversation back in place and the other three distracted, Stiles slowly starts leaning forward in his seat. With any luck, he’ll be able to slide the stupid thing towards himself and grab it before anyone notices. Then they can all resume the most perfect first double date in the history of Beacon Hills.
Foot groping around, he feels around, praying that he won’t step on anything too gross.
When his shoe finally toes the plastic wrapping, he gives a mental whoop and tries to slide the condom back. But before he can do it, another shoe bumps into his.
And then another.
And then another.
Stiles quickly ducks down to see the other three’s legs all there in the middle, reaching for the fallen condom. He looks back up at them and the four of them all exchange equally horrified gazes at one another.
Clearing his throat, Stiles says, “Well, I think it’s safe to conclude that this is too awkward to recover from. Let’s just say this double date never happened. Again.”
The three immediately respond, “Agreed.”
“Wait, so whose is it though?” Scott asks.
They all dig through their respective condom hiding places only to find their stash still there. Realization hitting them, everyone retracts their foot and scoots back in their seat.
“Maybe it’s best we don’t find out who it belongs to,” Allison says.
Derek nods in agreement.
Scott’s eyes widen. “Guys, what if it’s—”
Both Stiles and Allison reach over to cover his mouth. “No speculations, please!”
They exchange looks again and Stiles asks, “So, same time next week?”
Allison laughs. “Same time next week.”
Then, without waiting for the bill, the four of them book it out of there, leaving cash on the table and the mystery condom on the floor.
--
A/N: For Book Fan Girl who wanted a disastrous double date with Scott and Allison! Hope this is disastrous enough!
--
Bonus:
“Aha! Here you are,” Bobby Finstock says, grabbing the condom off the floor. Blowing the dust off of the wrapping, he pockets it and says, “Good thing no one noticed you. I still need you for sex ed. next week. No doubt some kid’s gonna ask about condoms…it’ll probably be Greenberg. Ugh, Greenberg.”
Beware the Mother
“Dude, why are we here?” Scott asks, trying to keep hisvoice at a whisper.
Stiles arches a brow. “For paintballing? Because you were invited? Because those three decided to side with Cora instead? You’re gonna have to be more specific with your question, bud.”
Scott frowns. “But this is a Hale family thing.”
“That’s a good point. I got a call telling me to bring you guys here and that’s about it. Here, let me ask.” He turns around and nudges Derek. “Hey, so why are we here again? What’s all this about?”
Derek takes a moment from checking his gear to say, “Paintballing.”
He makes an indignant face. “Yes, I got that. Thanks. But why?”
“This is what we do to see who gets to assign chores for the next year. Me and Cora are still under 20, so we get three team mates. Laura and Uncle Peter get one.”
“But Uncle Peter never uses it,” Cora interjects. “We don’t know if it’s because he’s that confident or because he doesn’t have any friends.”
Everyone within earshot immediately gives him a look.
Stiles frowns, affronted. “Oh my god, I wasn’t gonna say anything.”
Not while Peter’s around, he mentally adds.
“And mom and dad are on the same team,” Derek continues. “They win every year somehow.”
“Ah, so you invited Allison because she hunts and Scott’s just here as an awkwardness buffer,” Stiles says, nodding his head in understanding. He laughs and ruffles his pouting friend’s hair. “It’s harsh, bro, but totally justified.”
“Hey, Uncle Peter,” Laura says, strolling across the room in her gear, “if I get you out this year, guess who’ll be singing ‘Queen Laura, Best of the Best, and So Much Better than Peter’?”
Peter scoffs. “That sounds like a terrible song, Laura. Good thing I won’t ever have to sing it.”
--
He ends up hiding behind a bush with Scott. “It’s like we’re still benchwarmers even though we’re on the field,” he mutters. “By the way, has Allison ever mentioned what she hunted? Because that’s people hunting, not animal hunting.”
In the opening in front of them, Allison ducks and rolls out of the way while shooting. She smirks when Isaac looks down at the paint splatters on his chest. “Better luck next time.”
Throwing his gun down, Isaac frowns and walks towards the side, passing the two of them. He pauses when he notices them before shaking his head. “How do you two losers even survive?”
“By having Allison on our team,” Scott replies before turning to Stiles for approval.
It’s not the kind of comeback he was thinking of but decides to roll with it. “Seems to be working pretty well considering she just got Erica out.”
“So do you two just plan on sitting here?” Isaac asks.
“Maybe? We’re just riding this out, bro,” Stiles says.
Rolling his eyes, Isaac leaves.
The two of them go back to watching only to see Cora and Derek in a face-off.
“Oh my god, we can totally get Cora from here,” Stiles says.
“But isn’t that unfair?” Scott asks.
“All’s fair in love and war, dude.”
“But she won’t know what hit her.”
“Yeah, that’s the point.”
“Fine, but you do it.”
“Me? Why me? You do it.”
“But it was your idea!”
“Yeah, but Cora will actually kill me!”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” a new voice suddenly says. The two of them turn to see Talia Hale standing there, smiling. “Hello, boys.”
--
“Dude. We got shot by Derek’s mom,” Scott says in an incredulous whisper.
“I know. I was there,” Stiles mutters, taking his gear off. “How did she even sneak up on us? I can’t believe they ambushed their own kids like that.” He turns to Allison. “Who got you out?”
“I got hit by a stray pellet from Laura and Peter’s showdown,” she says with a frown. “It was an amateur mistake.”
Stiles burrows his brows. “Amateur—Allison, are you and your family contract killers?”
Allison laughs and doesn’t answer.
Alarming.
They’re all sitting around and waiting when the door opens and Peter walks in, sulking and covered in paint. He’s followed by Talia, who smiles and pats him on the back. “Maybe next year, baby bro.”
Ah, so that’s where Laura gets it from.
“So that concludes this year’s Hale Chore Master Contest. Once again, we won,” Talia announces. “I hope you all had fun. This year’s MVP has to be Allison Argent for her amazing performance in the field. Chris has trained you well.”
Scott and Stiles exchange looks at that. Then they turn to look at Allison who merely smiles back.
“I’d like to thank everyone for coming out,” Talia continues. “Dinner’s on us tonight.”
“Wait, before we go, I’ve got something to say,” Laura suddenly interrupts. She sends Peter a glare and mouths ‘I hate you’ before taking a deep breath and bursting into song. “All hail Peter Hale, lord and ruler of the little Hales…”
Hello! RAPILA gives me life and if your still taking suggestions, I have one (or three) -paint ball/nerf war (let's be real, the hales would take it so seriously that when stiles gets shot derek goes into panic/avenger mode and kicks-butt) -BLANKET. FORT. (Preferably because of a power outage and the cuddles ensue) -and ice skating (surprise derek is the Bambi on ice and stiles thinks it's adorable) If you could do one (or all) that would be so cool & amazing & I just *clenches fist* I crave it
RAPILA on Ice“What are we doing?” Stiles mutters, staring at the ceiling,squinting at the bright lights.
“We’re lying on ice because we’ve fallen and can’t get backup,” Derek answers with a sigh.
“My butt’s frozen,” Isaac complains.
“Mine’s just numb,” Scott mutters.
“At least you’re icing the bruises,” Allison offers.
“I can’t feel my fingers, can someone check to see ifthey’re all still there?” Erica asks.
“You brought that onto yourself,” Isaac says.
A little ways away, Boyd does a double axel.
—
Earlier that day, the group had decided to go ice skatingafterhours. Cora would do the breaking in, and Boyd would be in charge of theZamboni and general excursion since he worked part time at the ice rink anyway.
After handing out skates and helmets for everyone, Boyd wentover the rules. “Mostly watch how you fall and where you fall and who’s aroundyou when you fall. These blades are sharp and will cut you and other people. Ifyour fingers at in the way, they willbe sliced off.” He paused in thought. “Yeah, I think that’s about it.”
“Wow, that wasn’t terrifying at all. Thanks, Boyd,” Stilesmuttered sarcastically as they lined up to get onto the ice. “Okay, Der-Bear.Teen Wolf on Ice, let’s see how it’s done.”
Derek did the eyebrow thing. “I’ve never skated before.”
The two of them stare long and hard at each other as theyslowly drifted out towards the middle of the rink. “Well, that’s not good. Iwasn’t aware that there were things you’ve never done before. I mean, I haven’teith—whoa!” He got cut off when his skates went over a particularly smoothpatch of ice and he started flailing and dancing to regain his balance.
In a last ditch effort to remain standing, he reached outand grabs Derek’s jacket and sent them both onto the ice. “Thanks.” It wasn’thard to hear the glare being conveyed in that single word.
“Keep your fists closed if you want to keep your fingers,”he said helpfully.
From behind him,Erica and Isaac were in a similar situation. Cora and Allison were clinging tothe ledge while Scott slowly slid away.
Meanwhile, Boyd gracefully skated a lap and came to a stopright next to Stiles’ head. “Do you need help?”
Stiles huffed and shook his head. “No. We’re fine. We’rejust getting used to the feel of the ice. That’s how most pros get their start,right? Being one with the ice. How are you still standing, by the way?”
Boyd shrugged. “When we were little, my little sister wantedto company while taking lessons so I went with her. It’s how I got my job.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet. Can you do a pirouette?” he asked.
“That’s ballet,” Derek pointed out.
He grinned. “I love that you know that.”
“So do you want me to help you?” Boyd asked again. “Thereare safety cones you can use to help you balance.”
“No, it’s okay. Go enjoy yourself, Happy Feet. We’ll figurethis out—just don’t run over our fingers,” Stiles said, waving him off.
“Alright, I’ll stay on that side of the rink for safetyreasons. Just shout if you need anything.”
They watched as Boyd skated away backwards, turning on apivot.
Rolling onto his front, Derek took a deep breath and said,“That doesn’t look so hard.” He pushed himself up and shaky legs. “I lied.”
Stiles laughed. “Oh my god, you know what you remind me of?Bambi. You are the cutest thing. I’d take a picture, but I’m pretty sure I fellon my phone and broke it.”
“Thanks, Thumper,” Derek muttered. “Let’s see you better.”
“Oh, I will. Just let me somehow roll over and I will skatecircles around you, Bambi.”
Off to the side, Erica speed crawled after Isaac with ahandful of shaved ice to shove down his back.—Another fifteen minutes of struggle led them to theircurrent predicament where all of them are lying on the ice in varying positions,except for Cora, who refused to let go of the ledge.
“I’d still call this a successful outing,” Stiles says.“Sure, some of us might be concussed, but there’s no blood and we aresuccessfully out and about.”
“What are you guys doing?” a voice comes from the entranceof the rink.
They look over and Stiles raises his arms to wave. “Lydia!You made it!”
“I had to drop Jackson off at the doctor’s first. What areyou doing? Allison, are you okay?” she asks. Then she spots Boyd and blinks. “Iwasn’t aware Boyd was such a talented skater.”
“His talent makes up for rest of us and our inability tofight gravity in a low-friction setting,” Stiles says.
Lydia rolls her eyes. “In other words, none of you know howto skate. Why did you think a skating outing would be a good idea?” She restsher hands on her hips in that ‘exasperated but about to do a good deed’ sort ofway and sighs. “Alright. You guys need to crawl over to a ledge and getyourselves up. It’s about time you learned how to skate. Boyd, get over here,you’re helping me.”
“You’re awesome, Lydia,” Scott calls out.
“No one is leaving until everyone here can skate,” sheclarifies.
“Ah, so it’s gonna be one of those days,” Stiles mutters. He looks over at Derek and shrugs. “Stilla successful outing, I’d say.”—A/N: Thanks for the suggestions! I will definitely have to go back and write a paintballing one because that sounds super fun to write!
Hi I left a prompt request for RAPILA of Derek being romantic but not sure if it went through. As a follow up to that, if the boys drink, could I get some drunk Derek or Stiles action going on?
Hi! Sorry it took so long to get to this! Here’s some drunk Sterek fun!A Boy and His Box“I hear there’s going to be a party,” Peter says. “With alcohol.”
Stiles pauses. “Yes? Why? Were you planning on going? Because I think that’d be really awkward and I might have to call my dad to have you arrested. But most of all, Lydia would be very displeased and nobody wants that.”
Peter scoffs and shakes his head. “No, stupid. I just thought I’d impart my wisdom on you youths.”
At this, Derek rolls his eyes and makes his ‘and here it comes’ face.
“Word to the wise, don’t go crazy on any one drink or it’ll traumatize you for life.”
He looks over at Derek, who explains, “Uncle Peter played the role of the drunk uncle at a wedding once and now he can’t stand the smell of red wine.”
With a distant look in his eyes, Peter sighs, “It still haunts me to this day.”
Derek makes an amused noise. “Yeah, because mom and Laura will never let you live it down.”
“Hey, Catwoman, so I’ve been thinking about SITACH,” Stiles says to Erica over the music, his hands making unrelated gestures while he speaks.
Erica looks amused. Her face is flushed and well on her way to getting drunk. “Really? Why? Just let it go, Batman.”
“Shut up, Elsa. I refuse. I want that A gone.”
Boyd shakes his head. He could be wasted or perfectly sober. It’s surprisingly hard to tell with him. “We can’t do that or it’d crossover with Erica’s favourite show—Kim Possible.”
Stiles pauses and gives an exaggerated nod. “You make an excellent argument, Boyd. I accept your reasoning. Consider it done. Done-zo. Done-zy. Donadeedoo.”
“How much have you had to drink?” Erica asks, hiding her snickering.
“Way too much,” Derek cuts in. He’s only on his second cup, but he can feel it starting to affect him. “He’s already on his fourth cup and should probably take a break.”
Making an affronted face, Stiles gasps. “How dare you accuse me of…that. I’m perfectly fine and you’ll never stop me, you muggle! Catwoman, cover me!” he exclaims, suddenly racing off.
Erica watches as Derek takes off after him, bent over from laughing. “Oh, he’s making a run for the punchbowl…and now he’s dancing. Looks like Derek’s gonna have his hands full tonight.”—Two hours in finds Stiles running out of the house towards his jeep after realizing that it was blue and box-like. He tugs at the door handle to no avail. “I’ve been locked out of my box!”
Derek is endlessly grateful that Lydia confiscated everyone’s keys at the start of the night.
“Derek! Assistant! I can’t get into my box!” Stiles yells.
“Why am I the assistant?”
“You’re my Rose Tyler. Only less blonde, less happy—you are my dark, scowly Rose Tyler. And we have a whole new world to explore. You can sing Jasmine’s part and I mean that in a totally gender neutral way, much like your Game of Thrones references because I’m good like that. Okay, ready, Jasmine?”
“No. The only place you’re exploring is inside the house,” he mutters before Stiles can break into song, although that fourth cup is settling in very well. “I need another drink.”
Stiles perks up. “That’s a great idea! You and your ideas! I love’em! Y’know what we hafta do?”
“No.”
“Run!”
Cussing loudly, Derek runs after him as he yells the Doctor Who theme into the night.
“DOO WEE OOH!”—Three hours in finds them in the closet, making out, because all the rooms are taken.—Four hours in finds the two of them on the porch with Scott and Allison, mellowed out from their romp in the wardrobe.
“Dude…”
“Bro…”
“Dude…”
“Bro…”
“Dude, I know, right?”
“Oh my god, yeah, dude.”
Derek furrows his brows and looks over at Allison. “What.”
“Into-intonation, Der-Bear,” Stiles slurs.
Allison giggles and Scott high fives him. “Dude.”—Five hours in and Jackson stumbles across them and makes a face, one part drunken stupor and one part childhood trauma.
“You look like crap, Sti-Stilinski.” Then he frowns. “Your name’s stupid.”
Derek bristles and Stiles has to hold him back.
“His name’s stupid right, Lydia?” When he gets no response, Jackson begins looking around in confusion. “Huh? Where’d you go? Lydia!”
Stiles, swaying as he stands, blinks. “Time to call it a night, I guess.”
“Really?”
He nods. “Any more and I’ll probs end up throwin’ up. Don’t wanna be called Vomitski again and I’m pretty sure someone’s having sex in the bathroom right now.”
“Scott and Allison,” Derek says, nodding to himself.
“Ew. Really?”
“No. I don’t know.”
Stiles continues nodding to himself. “Good on’im. That’s my boy. Bro. Bro-boy. Hey, Derek, let’s go make out on the couch.”
Derek seems to consider this for a moment before shrugging. “Okay.”—Six hours in find Stiles passed out on Derek passed out on the couch, because it’s hardly big enough for two teenage boys to fit on it at once.—The next day finds them hungover and hating every moment of it.
“Everything hurts and nothing is sacred. How much did we drink?” Stiles groans.
Arm draped over his eyes to shield them from the light, Derek mutters, “Don’t know. Too much.”
