FIC: Soothing the Savage Beast - 1/1, Teen Wolf, G, Derek/Stiles
Title: Soothing the Savage Beast
Author: Jo (jo @ fadedink.com)
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Characters: Stiles Stilinski (Derek Hale)
Rating: G
Word count: 716
Summary: Derek's iPod doesn't contain what you think it does
Disclaimer: Characters are (sadly) not mine. Many thanks to Jeff Davis for creating them.
Author's Notes: The 'second day of Christmas' for soul_cake_duck :)
Stuck in Derek's car after Derek told him 'stay put', Stiles sits quietly for maybe thirty seconds. Then he starts fidgeting. Fingers dance, toes tap, he shifts, looking out first one window and then another.
There's nothing to see.
So he turns his attention back to the inside of the car. Not much to see there, either. But he pokes around because he doesn't get this opportunity very often.
A tiny voice in his head says he knows better as Stiles flips open the glove compartment and starts to rifle through it. He ignores the voice as he so often does. It's not that he's nosy, it's that he's curious.
Okay, yeah, he's totally nosy.
The glove compartment yields nothing more than the car registration, the owner's manual, some receipts for car maintenance, and an ice scraper.
So Stiles turns his attention to the console between the seats.
The console yields far more interesting results. He makes a small noise of delight at the wealth of detritus tucked into that small compartment.
The first thing he pulls out is a book. The Stranger by Albert Camus, and Stiles stares at it for several long minutes. It is, possibly, the last thing he'd ever expected to find in Derek's possession. And its condition -- dog-eared, tattered, discolored pages -- this isn't the first time Derek's read it. The fact that the book is in the original French shocks Stiles even more.
He didn't realize that Derek knows French.
Stiles feels like he's peeled away a layer of Derek.
He dives back into the console, pulling out a second book. It's as different from the first as possible. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is not at all what Stiles would expect Derek to read. But it's just as dog-eared and beat up as The Stranger.
Holding the two books, he looks from one to the other.
Another layer peeled away.
Further examination reveals random papers -- some receipts, a few handwritten lists -- and underneath everything, an iPod. Stiles is pretty sure he makes a noise only dogs can hear as he scoops it up and thumbs it on.
Scrolling through the contents, Stiles slows down, then stops.
There is not a single song on the device (that he's found so far) with lyrics. Everything is an instrumental piece. And not just any instrumental piece, but classical instrumental pieces.
The presence of Rachmaninoff, Tchaikovsky, and Wagner don't really surprise Stiles much. They were powerful, passionate composers of music thick with emotion. Stiles can totally see Derek listening to them.
It's the others that startle him. Bach, Debussy, Vivaldi, Stravinsky, Brahms, Mendelssohn, Handel, Haydn...all authors of pieces far more subtle and airy. Music that Stiles would never, in a million years, associate with Derek. Gershwin is there, too, and that inclusion makes Stiles stop and blink.
He resumes scrolling and names leap out at him. Names he's never heard before -- de Machaut, Pergolesi, Buxtehude, Rimsky-Korsakov, von Bingen, Respighi, Smetana -- the iPod is full of them. 152gb full of them, to be exact.
For some reason, Stiles has always equated Derek with music like Tool, Eminem, Godsmack, Pantera, Lil Wayne, and the like. He never expected his assumptions to be so wildly off-base. He never expected Derek to be so multi-layered. Not like this.
As he reaches to plug the iPod in without thinking about it, Stiles wonders who it is that got Derek started on classical music. Who introduced him to the beautifully brilliant work of Douglas Adams, who introduced him to existentialism and if Camus is the only one he reads.
He settles on a song at random -- Aaron Copland's Third Symphony -- and leans back, closing his eyes as the opening strains fill the car. He doesn't even twitch when Derek opens the door and stops halfway into the car. In fact, neither one of them says a word as Derek quietly closes his door and starts the car.
Stiles had expected Derek to be furious that Stiles had dug through his things. But there's no tension between them. No sense of hostility or even annoyance. It's not as surprising now as it would have been before Stiles had poked through the contents of Derek's car.
More layers peeled away, and Stiles just smiles and loses himself in the music.
Author: Jo (jo @ fadedink.com)
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Characters: Stiles Stilinski (Derek Hale)
Rating: G
Word count: 716
Summary: Derek's iPod doesn't contain what you think it does
Disclaimer: Characters are (sadly) not mine. Many thanks to Jeff Davis for creating them.
Author's Notes: The 'second day of Christmas' for soul_cake_duck :)
Stuck in Derek's car after Derek told him 'stay put', Stiles sits quietly for maybe thirty seconds. Then he starts fidgeting. Fingers dance, toes tap, he shifts, looking out first one window and then another.
There's nothing to see.
So he turns his attention back to the inside of the car. Not much to see there, either. But he pokes around because he doesn't get this opportunity very often.
A tiny voice in his head says he knows better as Stiles flips open the glove compartment and starts to rifle through it. He ignores the voice as he so often does. It's not that he's nosy, it's that he's curious.
Okay, yeah, he's totally nosy.
The glove compartment yields nothing more than the car registration, the owner's manual, some receipts for car maintenance, and an ice scraper.
So Stiles turns his attention to the console between the seats.
The console yields far more interesting results. He makes a small noise of delight at the wealth of detritus tucked into that small compartment.
The first thing he pulls out is a book. The Stranger by Albert Camus, and Stiles stares at it for several long minutes. It is, possibly, the last thing he'd ever expected to find in Derek's possession. And its condition -- dog-eared, tattered, discolored pages -- this isn't the first time Derek's read it. The fact that the book is in the original French shocks Stiles even more.
He didn't realize that Derek knows French.
Stiles feels like he's peeled away a layer of Derek.
He dives back into the console, pulling out a second book. It's as different from the first as possible. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is not at all what Stiles would expect Derek to read. But it's just as dog-eared and beat up as The Stranger.
Holding the two books, he looks from one to the other.
Another layer peeled away.
Further examination reveals random papers -- some receipts, a few handwritten lists -- and underneath everything, an iPod. Stiles is pretty sure he makes a noise only dogs can hear as he scoops it up and thumbs it on.
Scrolling through the contents, Stiles slows down, then stops.
There is not a single song on the device (that he's found so far) with lyrics. Everything is an instrumental piece. And not just any instrumental piece, but classical instrumental pieces.
The presence of Rachmaninoff, Tchaikovsky, and Wagner don't really surprise Stiles much. They were powerful, passionate composers of music thick with emotion. Stiles can totally see Derek listening to them.
It's the others that startle him. Bach, Debussy, Vivaldi, Stravinsky, Brahms, Mendelssohn, Handel, Haydn...all authors of pieces far more subtle and airy. Music that Stiles would never, in a million years, associate with Derek. Gershwin is there, too, and that inclusion makes Stiles stop and blink.
He resumes scrolling and names leap out at him. Names he's never heard before -- de Machaut, Pergolesi, Buxtehude, Rimsky-Korsakov, von Bingen, Respighi, Smetana -- the iPod is full of them. 152gb full of them, to be exact.
For some reason, Stiles has always equated Derek with music like Tool, Eminem, Godsmack, Pantera, Lil Wayne, and the like. He never expected his assumptions to be so wildly off-base. He never expected Derek to be so multi-layered. Not like this.
As he reaches to plug the iPod in without thinking about it, Stiles wonders who it is that got Derek started on classical music. Who introduced him to the beautifully brilliant work of Douglas Adams, who introduced him to existentialism and if Camus is the only one he reads.
He settles on a song at random -- Aaron Copland's Third Symphony -- and leans back, closing his eyes as the opening strains fill the car. He doesn't even twitch when Derek opens the door and stops halfway into the car. In fact, neither one of them says a word as Derek quietly closes his door and starts the car.
Stiles had expected Derek to be furious that Stiles had dug through his things. But there's no tension between them. No sense of hostility or even annoyance. It's not as surprising now as it would have been before Stiles had poked through the contents of Derek's car.
More layers peeled away, and Stiles just smiles and loses himself in the music.