October 19, 2016 - Indulging
Title: Indulging
Prompt Choice: Full Moon
Pairing/Characters: Derek and Stiles, intended platonically, but interpret as you like
Rating: G
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 855
Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)
Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf or any related characters.
Summary: Stiles gets frustrated with full moons with Scott’s betas, so he goes to see how Derek’s been spending his.
Warnings: Fairly cracky? I fail at witty banter?
Notes: This is slapdash because I ran out of time again...
It wasn’t that Stiles didn’t get that werewolf (and werecoyote) powers were difficult to control. He just didn’t understand how years into this whole thing, Scott’s betas still needed babysitting most of the time. Having seen Derek’s, and Scott’s for the most part, very good control, it was extremely frustrating for the pack member who took the longest to heal from scratches, bumps, and bruises. Namely Stiles. He could only chant that “sun, moon, truth” mantra with Liam so many times before he felt like screaming, which might feel awesome, but was probably counterproductive around jumpy predators.
“I’m going to go see how Derek copes on his own,” he had explained to Scott before bailing. It wasn’t just an excuse to leave, either. He genuinely wanted to know.
From what Derek had told them before, an omega wolf on their own had more trouble with control than a wolf with a pack, but Derek never joined the rest of the group on the full moon. Derek had also started out with anger as an anchor for his power, but the dude was far too mellow lately to be using that anymore, which begged the question: what was he using as an anchor now?
Given Derek’s martyr complex, Stiles wouldn’t have been surprised to walk in on Derek having chained himself to something heavy, just lying there pitifully. The loft door was actually locked for once, though, so he knocked, hoping Derek was home and he hadn’t wasted a trip.
When Derek answered the door in silk pajamas, a bathrobe, and fuzzy slippers, Stiles thought for a moment that he was imagining things.
“Stiles?” Derek asked, puzzled but totally in control, as expected. “What are you doing here?”
“Are you sure you’re a werewolf,” Stiles countered the question with a question, “and not a were-old-man?”
Derek sighed. “You might as well-”
“Get off your lawn?”
“I was going to say come inside.” Derek glared at him. It was less murdery than it used to be, but the familiarity was comforting. “Are you trying to get me to kick you out before you’ve even gotten past the door? This might be a record for you.”
Stiles squeezed past him and inside the loft. “Please, like I’m not banned from several locations in the Beacon Hills area already with a ‘turn away on sight’ policy.”
There was a large, leather-bound book open on the coffee table in front of the sofa. “Were you reading?” Stiles asked as he hurried over to examine the book before Derek could stop him.
He was hoping for something cool and old, since the pages were gilt-edged and it even had a ribbon bookmark, but it turned out it was just one of those collector’s compilations that bookstores sold meant to look cool and old.
“ ‘The Complete Sherlock Holmes’,” Stiles read the title aloud. “Huh. I never would’ve guessed.”
“Why?” Derek asked drily, walking over to resume his seat on the couch. “Does it seem too intellectual for me or something?”
“No,” Stiles insisted, “not at all. I just figured you for something more ‘woe is me,’ like a Shakespearean tragedy or Goethe or something.”
“Gee, thanks.” Derek rolled his eyes. “You never answered my question. What are you doing here? I something wrong with the pack?”
“Nah, I just wanted to get away from all the craziness, you know? Ropes and yelling and property damage, that sort of thing.”
Derek looked alarmed. “Scott still has to tie them up?”
“Okay,” Stiles admitted, “I exaggerated a little, but Malia is still pretty feral, and Liam is always going to have anger issues.”
“And you have nothing better to do than annoy me?”
“I wondered what you were up to,” Stiles confessed. “I know you’re not using anger as an anchor anymore, and you’re all on your own, so I was curious how you do it.”
“Oh.” Derek considered that for a moment. “I guess I’ve discovered that giving in to the wolf a little on the full moon actually works better for me than forcing it under control.” Stiles must have looked very unconvinced because Derek continued his explanation. “If my wolf wants to run, I’ll drive out to the Preserve and take a jog. If it wants to hunt, I’ll cook a steak rare. If it wants to feel safe and comfortable-”
“You throw on some pjs and read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle?” Stiles finished.
“Laura and I used to read these together. I liked Watson and she liked Holmes. It’s a happy memory that makes my wolf content. Most of the time, anyway.”
Stiles glanced around. Derek had made the loft considerably more cozy over time, and it was nice and quiet, unlike Scott’s house at the moment.
“I haven’t read any Sherlock Holmes in forever. Mind if I join you?”
“Fine, but no reading out loud.”
“Whatever, your loss. My British accent is fantastic.”
“And no talking.”
Stiles mimed zipping his mouth closed and took a seat next to Derek. It was the most peaceful and enjoyable full moon Stiles had spent since Scott was bitten.
Prompt Choice: Full Moon
Pairing/Characters: Derek and Stiles, intended platonically, but interpret as you like
Rating: G
Medium: Fic
Word Count: 855
Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)
Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf or any related characters.
Summary: Stiles gets frustrated with full moons with Scott’s betas, so he goes to see how Derek’s been spending his.
Warnings: Fairly cracky? I fail at witty banter?
Notes: This is slapdash because I ran out of time again...
It wasn’t that Stiles didn’t get that werewolf (and werecoyote) powers were difficult to control. He just didn’t understand how years into this whole thing, Scott’s betas still needed babysitting most of the time. Having seen Derek’s, and Scott’s for the most part, very good control, it was extremely frustrating for the pack member who took the longest to heal from scratches, bumps, and bruises. Namely Stiles. He could only chant that “sun, moon, truth” mantra with Liam so many times before he felt like screaming, which might feel awesome, but was probably counterproductive around jumpy predators.
“I’m going to go see how Derek copes on his own,” he had explained to Scott before bailing. It wasn’t just an excuse to leave, either. He genuinely wanted to know.
From what Derek had told them before, an omega wolf on their own had more trouble with control than a wolf with a pack, but Derek never joined the rest of the group on the full moon. Derek had also started out with anger as an anchor for his power, but the dude was far too mellow lately to be using that anymore, which begged the question: what was he using as an anchor now?
Given Derek’s martyr complex, Stiles wouldn’t have been surprised to walk in on Derek having chained himself to something heavy, just lying there pitifully. The loft door was actually locked for once, though, so he knocked, hoping Derek was home and he hadn’t wasted a trip.
When Derek answered the door in silk pajamas, a bathrobe, and fuzzy slippers, Stiles thought for a moment that he was imagining things.
“Stiles?” Derek asked, puzzled but totally in control, as expected. “What are you doing here?”
“Are you sure you’re a werewolf,” Stiles countered the question with a question, “and not a were-old-man?”
Derek sighed. “You might as well-”
“Get off your lawn?”
“I was going to say come inside.” Derek glared at him. It was less murdery than it used to be, but the familiarity was comforting. “Are you trying to get me to kick you out before you’ve even gotten past the door? This might be a record for you.”
Stiles squeezed past him and inside the loft. “Please, like I’m not banned from several locations in the Beacon Hills area already with a ‘turn away on sight’ policy.”
There was a large, leather-bound book open on the coffee table in front of the sofa. “Were you reading?” Stiles asked as he hurried over to examine the book before Derek could stop him.
He was hoping for something cool and old, since the pages were gilt-edged and it even had a ribbon bookmark, but it turned out it was just one of those collector’s compilations that bookstores sold meant to look cool and old.
“ ‘The Complete Sherlock Holmes’,” Stiles read the title aloud. “Huh. I never would’ve guessed.”
“Why?” Derek asked drily, walking over to resume his seat on the couch. “Does it seem too intellectual for me or something?”
“No,” Stiles insisted, “not at all. I just figured you for something more ‘woe is me,’ like a Shakespearean tragedy or Goethe or something.”
“Gee, thanks.” Derek rolled his eyes. “You never answered my question. What are you doing here? I something wrong with the pack?”
“Nah, I just wanted to get away from all the craziness, you know? Ropes and yelling and property damage, that sort of thing.”
Derek looked alarmed. “Scott still has to tie them up?”
“Okay,” Stiles admitted, “I exaggerated a little, but Malia is still pretty feral, and Liam is always going to have anger issues.”
“And you have nothing better to do than annoy me?”
“I wondered what you were up to,” Stiles confessed. “I know you’re not using anger as an anchor anymore, and you’re all on your own, so I was curious how you do it.”
“Oh.” Derek considered that for a moment. “I guess I’ve discovered that giving in to the wolf a little on the full moon actually works better for me than forcing it under control.” Stiles must have looked very unconvinced because Derek continued his explanation. “If my wolf wants to run, I’ll drive out to the Preserve and take a jog. If it wants to hunt, I’ll cook a steak rare. If it wants to feel safe and comfortable-”
“You throw on some pjs and read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle?” Stiles finished.
“Laura and I used to read these together. I liked Watson and she liked Holmes. It’s a happy memory that makes my wolf content. Most of the time, anyway.”
Stiles glanced around. Derek had made the loft considerably more cozy over time, and it was nice and quiet, unlike Scott’s house at the moment.
“I haven’t read any Sherlock Holmes in forever. Mind if I join you?”
“Fine, but no reading out loud.”
“Whatever, your loss. My British accent is fantastic.”
“And no talking.”
Stiles mimed zipping his mouth closed and took a seat next to Derek. It was the most peaceful and enjoyable full moon Stiles had spent since Scott was bitten.