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tamingthemuseTitle: sparks fly [2/2]
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Prompt: 420 – flail
Warnings: None. Future fic. Fluff. Derek/Stiles.
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1220
Summary: Derek takes Stiles to the scenic overlook in the preserve so they can watch the fireworks together and it's totally a date, isn't it? They talk about life and Derek gives him peanut butter cups. Then they watch the fireworks and Derek smiles at him. And what else is Stiles supposed to do besides kiss him?
Disclaimer: It's all lies and I own nothing.
-- = --
The scenic overlook Derek leads Stiles to is familiar. It's not far from where they'd brought Jackson all those years ago when they stole the Sheriff Department's transport van in an attempt to keep the kanima from hurting anybody else. And, if Stiles remembers correctly, it's where Scott and Allison used to meet up for their illicit rendezvous. He hasn't been in the preserve, much less this deep into it, in years.
Derek leaves Stiles near a huge limestone rock to return to his truck only to come back with a blanket draped over one arm and a reusable canvas grocery bag – because of course – in his other hand. Stiles does an internal flail because this is totally a date. This is practically a picnic. If only Derek were carrying a wicker picnic basket.
“Uh... here,” Stiles says, reaching for the blanket. “Let me.”
Derek hands the blanket over, stands back as Stiles carefully lays it out on the grass not far from the limestone rock, quite a distance back from the edge of the bluff. Really, there should be some kind of guardrail up here – it's a long, long way down if the look of the town with all it's tiny, twinkling streetlights is anything to go by. Stiles sits down and watches as Derek settles beside him with the canvas bag in his lap. He pulls a couple bottles of water from it as well as a crinkly package that he tosses at Stiles.
Stiles' flail is anything but internal as he fumbles to catch the package of what turns out to be Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. He ducks his head, attempting to hide his smile, as he tears open the end of the wrapper. “Thanks.”
Derek moves the bag to his other side and bumps his shoulder into Stiles' when he turns back around. “You're welcome.”
Stiles watches him twist the lid off his bottle of water before taking a long drink and it has Stiles looking away, the long silhouette of Derek's throat working in the hazy dimness of night that never gets truly dark because of the town's light pollution. He busies himself with his candy, chocolate melting on his fingers as he peels back the paper cup and takes a bite.
“So,” Derek says after a few long moments of silence filled with nothing but the buzzing of insects and the quiet scritch of small animals in the woods behind them. “Have you figured out what you want to do after you graduate?”
“Well, depending on whether or not I qualify for any kind of financial aid, I'd like to get into the graduate program and get my Masters in History. I'll have my Bachelor's in Education after this year, but I want to teach.”
“That's what I was studying,” Derek says with a soft smile, clarifying, “history. Before I followed Laura back.”
It's still weird to think how Derek had this whole other life that he was piecing back together after the fire before he returned to Beacon Hills. “I don't think I knew that,” Stiles says, trying not to sound surprised because, really, he shouldn't be. “Were you going to teach, or...?”
“I don't know. When we got the insurance money, Laura didn't know what to do with it besides making sure Peter had the best care he could get, then she enrolled in NYU, helped me get my GED before making me apply to colleges. I followed her to NYU because it was just easier to be together then. And I'd always been good at history, so.” Derek shrugs. “I'd always been fascinated by it, especially my family's own. The supernatural community isn't all that small, but it's very secretive. It was interesting to learn the human perspective especially when they didn't always have all the facts.”
Stiles perks up at that and leans further into Derek's space. “What does that mean?”
Derek grins this devastating grin that has Stiles' stomach flipping and making him wish there was something stronger than water in his bottle. He shakes his head and says, “Just that certain things were omitted. You know how they say 'history is written by the victors'? It's more than the losing side's version of events that isn't told.”
Well, that would certainly make history a lot more interesting. He's about to ask what historical figures were werewolves when Derek turns to face the southwest. “They're starting.”
Sure enough, a faint orange glow trails a gray arc up into the sky to the south before exploding in a shimmering gold palm effect. Another immediately follows, sizzling red and orange over Beacon Hills. The whole display lasts somewhere around half an hour, ending with an impressive finale and a bright ground-show. Even Stiles can hear the whistles and cheers faintly on the wind as a breeze carries the sound of commendations and the scent of the pyrotechnics towards them.
Beside him, Derek makes no move to get up, just turns towards Stiles with that same soft smile from earlier. “What did you think?”
“I think this was perfect. Thanks for inviting me.”
“You're welcome.”
Polite, genuine, smiling Derek does something to Stiles. Makes him stupid and maybe kind of reckless because, what if he's reading this all wrong? But Derek bought him Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and brought him up to the place he used to watch the fireworks with his family and it has to mean something. Doesn't it? Stiles is taking a deep, fortifying his breath, steeling his nerves and he leans across the short distance between them and places a slightly off-center kiss to Derek's lips. It's just an abrupt press of lips until Derek leans into him with a bit more force, tilting his head until their mouths are better aligned. Then Derek's tongue is teasing at the seam of Stiles' lips and Stiles is opening his mouth, moaning as Derek's questing tongue is slipping inside along his own. He chases after Derek's mouth when he starts to pull away, making a sound of protest for being denied.
Derek laughs, gives him little pecking kisses as he cups Stiles' cheek. “I'm really glad you're here.”
Stiles nods enthusiastically, wanting nothing more than to get Derek's mouth back on his. “Me, too. So glad I'm here. And that you're here. With me. Together.”
Derek laughs again and it's the happiest, the lightest, Stiles can ever remember Derek sounding. He smiles and pulls Stiles in for another kiss.
And, oh. Yeah. Yep. This is definitely something Stiles could get used to. Like all day, every day, for the rest of his life. But, well, he probably shouldn't tell Derek that at least until they're, like, official or something. Because they're totally going to be boyfriends and Stiles can finally change his Facebook status from Single to In a Relationship and it's going to be with Derek Hale. And he's totally going to make Derek get a Facebook page because this isn't the 90s and Derek needs to get with the times. They're going to have so many ridiculous couply Instagram photos and--
“Stiles,” Derek growls exasperatedly against Stiles' lips. “Stop thinking and kiss me.”
How can he say no to that?
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Prompt: 420 – flail
Warnings: None. Future fic. Fluff. Derek/Stiles.
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1220
Summary: Derek takes Stiles to the scenic overlook in the preserve so they can watch the fireworks together and it's totally a date, isn't it? They talk about life and Derek gives him peanut butter cups. Then they watch the fireworks and Derek smiles at him. And what else is Stiles supposed to do besides kiss him?
Disclaimer: It's all lies and I own nothing.
The scenic overlook Derek leads Stiles to is familiar. It's not far from where they'd brought Jackson all those years ago when they stole the Sheriff Department's transport van in an attempt to keep the kanima from hurting anybody else. And, if Stiles remembers correctly, it's where Scott and Allison used to meet up for their illicit rendezvous. He hasn't been in the preserve, much less this deep into it, in years.
Derek leaves Stiles near a huge limestone rock to return to his truck only to come back with a blanket draped over one arm and a reusable canvas grocery bag – because of course – in his other hand. Stiles does an internal flail because this is totally a date. This is practically a picnic. If only Derek were carrying a wicker picnic basket.
“Uh... here,” Stiles says, reaching for the blanket. “Let me.”
Derek hands the blanket over, stands back as Stiles carefully lays it out on the grass not far from the limestone rock, quite a distance back from the edge of the bluff. Really, there should be some kind of guardrail up here – it's a long, long way down if the look of the town with all it's tiny, twinkling streetlights is anything to go by. Stiles sits down and watches as Derek settles beside him with the canvas bag in his lap. He pulls a couple bottles of water from it as well as a crinkly package that he tosses at Stiles.
Stiles' flail is anything but internal as he fumbles to catch the package of what turns out to be Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. He ducks his head, attempting to hide his smile, as he tears open the end of the wrapper. “Thanks.”
Derek moves the bag to his other side and bumps his shoulder into Stiles' when he turns back around. “You're welcome.”
Stiles watches him twist the lid off his bottle of water before taking a long drink and it has Stiles looking away, the long silhouette of Derek's throat working in the hazy dimness of night that never gets truly dark because of the town's light pollution. He busies himself with his candy, chocolate melting on his fingers as he peels back the paper cup and takes a bite.
“So,” Derek says after a few long moments of silence filled with nothing but the buzzing of insects and the quiet scritch of small animals in the woods behind them. “Have you figured out what you want to do after you graduate?”
“Well, depending on whether or not I qualify for any kind of financial aid, I'd like to get into the graduate program and get my Masters in History. I'll have my Bachelor's in Education after this year, but I want to teach.”
“That's what I was studying,” Derek says with a soft smile, clarifying, “history. Before I followed Laura back.”
It's still weird to think how Derek had this whole other life that he was piecing back together after the fire before he returned to Beacon Hills. “I don't think I knew that,” Stiles says, trying not to sound surprised because, really, he shouldn't be. “Were you going to teach, or...?”
“I don't know. When we got the insurance money, Laura didn't know what to do with it besides making sure Peter had the best care he could get, then she enrolled in NYU, helped me get my GED before making me apply to colleges. I followed her to NYU because it was just easier to be together then. And I'd always been good at history, so.” Derek shrugs. “I'd always been fascinated by it, especially my family's own. The supernatural community isn't all that small, but it's very secretive. It was interesting to learn the human perspective especially when they didn't always have all the facts.”
Stiles perks up at that and leans further into Derek's space. “What does that mean?”
Derek grins this devastating grin that has Stiles' stomach flipping and making him wish there was something stronger than water in his bottle. He shakes his head and says, “Just that certain things were omitted. You know how they say 'history is written by the victors'? It's more than the losing side's version of events that isn't told.”
Well, that would certainly make history a lot more interesting. He's about to ask what historical figures were werewolves when Derek turns to face the southwest. “They're starting.”
Sure enough, a faint orange glow trails a gray arc up into the sky to the south before exploding in a shimmering gold palm effect. Another immediately follows, sizzling red and orange over Beacon Hills. The whole display lasts somewhere around half an hour, ending with an impressive finale and a bright ground-show. Even Stiles can hear the whistles and cheers faintly on the wind as a breeze carries the sound of commendations and the scent of the pyrotechnics towards them.
Beside him, Derek makes no move to get up, just turns towards Stiles with that same soft smile from earlier. “What did you think?”
“I think this was perfect. Thanks for inviting me.”
“You're welcome.”
Polite, genuine, smiling Derek does something to Stiles. Makes him stupid and maybe kind of reckless because, what if he's reading this all wrong? But Derek bought him Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and brought him up to the place he used to watch the fireworks with his family and it has to mean something. Doesn't it? Stiles is taking a deep, fortifying his breath, steeling his nerves and he leans across the short distance between them and places a slightly off-center kiss to Derek's lips. It's just an abrupt press of lips until Derek leans into him with a bit more force, tilting his head until their mouths are better aligned. Then Derek's tongue is teasing at the seam of Stiles' lips and Stiles is opening his mouth, moaning as Derek's questing tongue is slipping inside along his own. He chases after Derek's mouth when he starts to pull away, making a sound of protest for being denied.
Derek laughs, gives him little pecking kisses as he cups Stiles' cheek. “I'm really glad you're here.”
Stiles nods enthusiastically, wanting nothing more than to get Derek's mouth back on his. “Me, too. So glad I'm here. And that you're here. With me. Together.”
Derek laughs again and it's the happiest, the lightest, Stiles can ever remember Derek sounding. He smiles and pulls Stiles in for another kiss.
And, oh. Yeah. Yep. This is definitely something Stiles could get used to. Like all day, every day, for the rest of his life. But, well, he probably shouldn't tell Derek that at least until they're, like, official or something. Because they're totally going to be boyfriends and Stiles can finally change his Facebook status from Single to In a Relationship and it's going to be with Derek Hale. And he's totally going to make Derek get a Facebook page because this isn't the 90s and Derek needs to get with the times. They're going to have so many ridiculous couply Instagram photos and--
“Stiles,” Derek growls exasperatedly against Stiles' lips. “Stop thinking and kiss me.”
How can he say no to that?
