FIC: Hide and Seek - 1/1, TW, PG, Derek/Stiles
Title: Hide and Seek
Author: Jo (jo @ fadedink.com)
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski (sort of)
Rating: PG
Word count: 754
Summary: It's a thing they do, he and Scott. A training exercise of sorts.
Disclaimer: Don't own them, just borrowing them for a bit. All kudos to Jeff Davis for their creation.
Author's Notes: First fic in this fandom, and I can hear Brenda mocking me already. Don't care! ;)
It's a thing they do, he and Scott. A training exercise of sorts. Almost like hide and seek, but with an edge. The trick, Stiles knows, is getting as far from the start as possible before Scott finds him. They do it to teach Scott control.
To date, every effort has ended with Stiles being tumbled across some flat surface because Scott tends to pounce when he finds Stiles. Like a giant puppy who lacks any and all control.
So Stiles is trying something new. He takes off into the woods, running, dodging, trying to move as fast as possible before scrambling up a tree with a serious lack of grace that he's thankful no one is around to see. He slows down then, taking his time as he moves from tree to tree, working his way back towards the road.
If he's lucky, Scott will completely lose the trail and Stiles will make it to the deadline without being pounce-attacked. If he's lucky.
He's back at the road, almost out in the open, before he realizes it. No good. He ducks back into the scrub at the road's edge, hiding in a clump of bushes, trying to calm his breathing, his heart, trying not move a muscle. Don't give him any help, Scott had said.
And Stiles won't.
He's so focused on trying to be silent and invisible that the hand on his shoulder almost sends him straight up out of the bushes with a startled yelp. "Jesus Ch--"
The words are cut off by a hand laid gentle across his lips. He stares over that hand, eyes wide, and meets Derek's gaze.
"He's not using all of his senses," Derek whispers, like that's an explanation. He shifts, curling closer, his body conforming to Stiles', arms and legs tangling, and Stiles thinks that his eyes might literally bug right out of his skull.
"Dude," he whispers back. "Dude! The hell are you doing?"
"He's not using all his senses," Derek repeats, eyes scanning the forest. One side of his mouth twitches in an almost smile. "My scent will mask yours."
"You..." Stiles trails off, gaping. Because Derek did not just say what Stiles thinks he said. "You're helping me?"
"Quiet," Derek breathes, his nose touching Stiles' cheek, his lips grazing the curve of Stiles' ear. "He's close."
And then Stiles can hear Scott, hear the snuffling of his breath as he tries to catch Stiles' scent, hear the low growls that Scott lets out every few seconds. Derek's tactic is helping, and Stiles almost ruins it by bursting into laughter as he pictures Scott's frustrated face.
His hands fly up, cover his mouth, and he feels Derek shift, a low thrumming through his chest that might be a growl. Or it could just be congestion. It's never safe to assume with Derek.
Then his attention is drawn by the sound of Scott moving away, backtracking along the trail that Stiles had laid along the ground earlier. Derek doesn't move, though, body pressed tight along the curled lines of Stiles'.
They stay like that as the minutes tick by. The only things that Stiles can hear now is Derek's soft breathing (right in his freaking ear still, thank you very much!) and his own pulse thundering in his ears. He knows Derek can hear it as well, but Derek doesn't say anything. Just holds his silence and shifts a little closer.
A trickle of sweat slides down Stiles' spine, and his heart is still pounding, the rush of blood stealing his breath, making him lightheaded. He feels Derek's nose touch his cheek again, his jaw, feels stubble rasp along the side of his throat. He wants to ask if Derek is actually sniffing him, ferfucksake, but he swallows the words, afraid of the answer he might get.
Without a word, Derek stands, hauling Stiles up with him. "Come on," Derek whispers when Stiles catches his balance, one hand on Derek's arm, "I'll take you home."
"But Scott --"
"He'll find you," Derek says, and yeah, he's definitely amused. "With any luck, it will be tomorrow morning."
"But that's cheating..." Stiles stops, mouth twisting on the words. It's not really cheating. The rule was that Stiles couldn't drive away...not that someone else couldn't drive him. Huh. Loophole. He grins, a little surprised when that tiny smile appears on Derek's face, and says something he knows he probably shouldn't. "You gonna tuck me in, too?"
"Stiles, shut up and get in the car."
Author: Jo (jo @ fadedink.com)
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski (sort of)
Rating: PG
Word count: 754
Summary: It's a thing they do, he and Scott. A training exercise of sorts.
Disclaimer: Don't own them, just borrowing them for a bit. All kudos to Jeff Davis for their creation.
Author's Notes: First fic in this fandom, and I can hear Brenda mocking me already. Don't care! ;)
It's a thing they do, he and Scott. A training exercise of sorts. Almost like hide and seek, but with an edge. The trick, Stiles knows, is getting as far from the start as possible before Scott finds him. They do it to teach Scott control.
To date, every effort has ended with Stiles being tumbled across some flat surface because Scott tends to pounce when he finds Stiles. Like a giant puppy who lacks any and all control.
So Stiles is trying something new. He takes off into the woods, running, dodging, trying to move as fast as possible before scrambling up a tree with a serious lack of grace that he's thankful no one is around to see. He slows down then, taking his time as he moves from tree to tree, working his way back towards the road.
If he's lucky, Scott will completely lose the trail and Stiles will make it to the deadline without being pounce-attacked. If he's lucky.
He's back at the road, almost out in the open, before he realizes it. No good. He ducks back into the scrub at the road's edge, hiding in a clump of bushes, trying to calm his breathing, his heart, trying not move a muscle. Don't give him any help, Scott had said.
And Stiles won't.
He's so focused on trying to be silent and invisible that the hand on his shoulder almost sends him straight up out of the bushes with a startled yelp. "Jesus Ch--"
The words are cut off by a hand laid gentle across his lips. He stares over that hand, eyes wide, and meets Derek's gaze.
"He's not using all of his senses," Derek whispers, like that's an explanation. He shifts, curling closer, his body conforming to Stiles', arms and legs tangling, and Stiles thinks that his eyes might literally bug right out of his skull.
"Dude," he whispers back. "Dude! The hell are you doing?"
"He's not using all his senses," Derek repeats, eyes scanning the forest. One side of his mouth twitches in an almost smile. "My scent will mask yours."
"You..." Stiles trails off, gaping. Because Derek did not just say what Stiles thinks he said. "You're helping me?"
"Quiet," Derek breathes, his nose touching Stiles' cheek, his lips grazing the curve of Stiles' ear. "He's close."
And then Stiles can hear Scott, hear the snuffling of his breath as he tries to catch Stiles' scent, hear the low growls that Scott lets out every few seconds. Derek's tactic is helping, and Stiles almost ruins it by bursting into laughter as he pictures Scott's frustrated face.
His hands fly up, cover his mouth, and he feels Derek shift, a low thrumming through his chest that might be a growl. Or it could just be congestion. It's never safe to assume with Derek.
Then his attention is drawn by the sound of Scott moving away, backtracking along the trail that Stiles had laid along the ground earlier. Derek doesn't move, though, body pressed tight along the curled lines of Stiles'.
They stay like that as the minutes tick by. The only things that Stiles can hear now is Derek's soft breathing (right in his freaking ear still, thank you very much!) and his own pulse thundering in his ears. He knows Derek can hear it as well, but Derek doesn't say anything. Just holds his silence and shifts a little closer.
A trickle of sweat slides down Stiles' spine, and his heart is still pounding, the rush of blood stealing his breath, making him lightheaded. He feels Derek's nose touch his cheek again, his jaw, feels stubble rasp along the side of his throat. He wants to ask if Derek is actually sniffing him, ferfucksake, but he swallows the words, afraid of the answer he might get.
Without a word, Derek stands, hauling Stiles up with him. "Come on," Derek whispers when Stiles catches his balance, one hand on Derek's arm, "I'll take you home."
"But Scott --"
"He'll find you," Derek says, and yeah, he's definitely amused. "With any luck, it will be tomorrow morning."
"But that's cheating..." Stiles stops, mouth twisting on the words. It's not really cheating. The rule was that Stiles couldn't drive away...not that someone else couldn't drive him. Huh. Loophole. He grins, a little surprised when that tiny smile appears on Derek's face, and says something he knows he probably shouldn't. "You gonna tuck me in, too?"
"Stiles, shut up and get in the car."