Fic: Let's Pretend (that both our lips are made of candy)
Author: froggydarren
Title: Let's Pretend (that both our lips are made of candy)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Character/s: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Melissa McCall, reference to Scott McCall
Summary: Most people present as either Alpha, Beta or Omega in high school. Stiles is a late bloomer, and he's already eighteen when he presents as an Omega. With all his friends already having mates, he doesn't know who his playmating partner will be. Enter Derek Hale, the Alpha who hasn't been seen in Beacon Hills for the past two years.
Warnings: n/a
Content Notes: playmating is the set-up, but nothing sexual actually happens in this fic. everyone is a werewolf. A/B/O world.
Submission Type: Fic
Word Count: 1765
Prompt: #130: play
Author's Notes: I had about four different thoughts for this prompts, but then playmating just wouldn't get out of my head. (even though none actually happens, sorry, I chickened out on the smutty part) Un-Betaed. Title from Darren Criss' song Don't You.
He's just turned eighteen and it's too late, he knows it. Most of his classmates have gone through this in sophomore year, most of them presented when they were sixteen at most -- Scott was the last one, presenting as Alpha to everyone's surprise, because he'd been acting as an Omega until then -- except for Stiles. Of course he's the last one of them, the one no one seemed to get a read on, not even Deaton, the local Emissary.
So he's eighteen, and this isn't happening the way it did for Scott, not like for Erica and Boyd -- they were lucky enough to bond at the time -- nor Lydia and Allison. It isn't happening like it did for anyone, Stiles thinks as he walks into the clinic, hands shaking with nervousness that he's trying to pretend he's not feeling.
Because he's in the clinic, having finally presented as Omega the day after his eighteenth birthday, two years after his best friend had been here with the supervision of his mother. Stiles is alone, because as an adult, he doesn't need his father present. It's not required by law to have a guardian there, not like it usually is during these sessions, but then they normally happen before the person is of legal age.
"Hi, I'm…" he starts saying, his voice shakier than he wants it to be.
"Stiles, hi," Melissa McCall greets him, her own tone wavering between cheerful and worried.
He knows the tone, it's a motherly one, and with her sort of dating his Dad, it's something he's learned to accept now. He's not sure he wants her to be here, doesn't know if having someone who knows him is comforting or mortifying, but to his relief she doesn't look judgmental.
"Come on, kiddo, let's get you checked in," she says softly, and gets up from her desk, nodding towards the rooms at the back.
Stiles heard everything about the clinic from Scott, in excruciating and not always appreciated detail, from when Scott was here for his session after presenting.
Play-mating.
Stiles lets the word roll around his mind again, like it has been for the past two weeks. It's no less worrying now that he's here, because this is happening, and despite Scott's recount of his own visit here, Stiles has no idea what to expect. It's different for adults, he was told. Normally it's teenagers, with strict supervision from a guardian each, meeting up in the clinic after a detailed arrangement between the families. Normally it's just a fun, no strings attached, no actual worry about bonding kind of an event. Normally it's two friends practicing how to control their urges before each of them goes into heat.
When was I ever normal? Stiles asks himself, a bitter tone to the voice in his head.
With all his friends and classmates having had their play-mating sessions long ago and with all of them already bonded or at least pre-bonded ever since, he's alone here. Alone and wondering who the unfortunate soul who'll have to put up with his delayed ass -- pun only sort of intended -- will be. Because he's going into the session blind, only knowing from his Dad that an Alpha agreed to take the task on, but Stiles doesn't know who the Alpha is.
"Okay, here's your room," Melissa says, and she points towards a door no different to any others in the building. "Do you remember the rules?"
Stiles nods solemnly.
"Clothes stay on unless there's mutual consent, no bites that would leave marks, no bonding, if I feel like I might be going into real heat I get out," he recites the words that he's read over and over in the last week. "If I feel threatened or uncomfortable, I have a panic button and a safe word."
"What's your safe word?" Melissa asks.
"Claudia."
She nods, knowing the significance of the name, and both of them pause for a moment. Stiles thinks of his Mom -- he knew her name would be his safe word long before he presented -- and what she would think of all this.
"Hey, kiddo," Melissa interrupts his thoughts. "She'd be proud of you, no matter what. She's always been proud of you. We all are."
"I… thank you," Stiles blurts out, and he ducks his head.
"Go on in," she tells him then, to his relief. "You'll be okay."
I hope so, he thinks, though he doesn't say it out loud. He manages a nod, and then he's in the door, and his eyes are scanning over the room behind it.
It looks cozy, walls covered in a warm color, a comfortable couch in the middle of the space. There is a snack table with bottles of water, and Stiles can't help but think that it almost looks like a room that's prepared for someone's heat.
He's still looking around when the door opens again, and Stiles turns, almost making himself dizzy with the speed. What does make his head spin is the person who is standing by the now closed again door, with a perfectly blank expression in his face.
"I…" Stiles tries to speak, but his voice is rough all of a sudden. He clears it, and then tries again, "I think you have the wrong room."
"I don't."
That catches Stiles off-guard even more, because he's in the play-mating room with the last person he was expecting.
Derek Hale, his mind unhelpfully and redundantly supplies while it's reeling. I'm in the room with Derek. In the play-mating room, with Alpha Derek Hale, Stiles thinks.
"You are," Derek says, making Stiles realize that he's actually been mumbling the words that ran through his mind as he was processing the situation. "I hope that is not a problem?"
The question is softer and more hesitant than the usual distant, cold and rough tone that Stiles is used to from Derek. Of course, the first time he's heard it was when Derek caught them on the Hale property back in freshman year, when they went looking for Stiles' hoodie that he'd lost the night before during one of their sneaky expeditions into the Preserve. The same hoodie that Stiles has long grown out of and yet he keeps it in the back of his closet.
Derek hadn't been around for a few years, though, so Stiles is still thrown by the fact that he's here now, and standing in the room like it's no big deal.
"You're back," Stiles blurts out, his brain to mouth filter obviously broken again.
"I am," Derek nods. "Hey, are you sure you're okay? I can call the nurse…"
Stiles shakes his head quickly and he mumbles a no in what he hopes is a convincing tone.
"You smell nervous," Derek says then, still from his spot by the door.
"Well, I am, a bit," Stiles says, and he tries to bite down the 'duh' that threatens to slip past his lips. "I don't… I mean, I know what to expect, Scott's been very helpful," he shudders at the memory of Scott's retelling of his own play-mating, "but it's still… Melissa was there, uh, I mean Mrs McCall…"
"If you'd be more comfortable with your Dad here…"
"Oh hell no," Stiles says almost in a panic before Derek can finish the thought.
Derek chuckles, and the sound makes Stiles freeze and stare in disbelief. It's such a foreign sound, all he remembers Derek as is a growling, frowning Alpha who chased Stiles off of the Hale property and then continued to glare at him whenever they ran into each other in town.
"I'm sorry," Derek says when Stiles continues staring for longer than he can brush off.
"No, don't," Stiles says, and he shakes his head to clear it. "It's just, I don't think I've seen you smile before," he adds quietly.
"I didn't use to," Derek admits. "Not after the fire…"
His voice fades out, and Stiles wants to apologize again. He knows about the fire, of course, the one that left Derek with almost no family. Before he can say anything, Derek shakes his head and look away, though, like it's not something he wants to talk about. Stiles understands that, there are shadows in his past he's not touching, even though none of them are as big as the weight that's on Derek's shoulders.
"So, uh," he says instead, eager to change the topic. "How do we… what do we do here?"
There's a hint of gratitude in Derek's eyes when he looks back to Stiles, and the hint of a smile is back on Derek's lips. He looks almost the same as when Stiles and Scott got caught in the Preserve, but there's a shadow on Derek's jaw that makes him look a little more rugged, and his shoulders aren't hunched like they used to be.
"Whatever you're comfortable with," Derek says, his eyes dropping down to Stiles' mouth.
"Kissing," Stiles' lips form around the word before he can think it through -- brain filter still off obviously. "Kissing sounds like something I wouldn't mind," he rambles on, his own eyes finding Derek's mouth.
He steps forward, because Derek doesn't look like he's going to move, and it's only when they're toe to toe that Stiles breathes in properly for the first time since Derek walked in. He's immediately hit with the mixture that makes up Derek's unique scent. There's the smell of leather, forest, motor oil -- Stiles' mind jumps to the black Camaro he remembers Derek driving -- and a hint of low arousal.
"Oh," he breathes out when the scents register, and his own body floods with warmth.
It's not heat, Stiles knows that, but being this close to Derek makes his wolf restless, impatient. Nothing happens for a few beats, and when Stiles looks into Derek's eyes again, he realizes that Derek is waiting for him.
"Oh," Stiles says again, a little dumbly because he didn't expect the consideration from an Alpha.
There is only one thought in his mind when he finally leans in and brushes his lips against Derek's surprisingly soft ones, and when their fingers find their way together.
It's only play, Stiles thinks, play-mating. It's not for real.
With that reminder to himself, and with the sudden realization that walking away will not be as easy as he'd expected it to be, Stiles' kisses become a little different. If it's only play, he's going to make sure to make a memory to last him a long time.
Title: Let's Pretend (that both our lips are made of candy)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Character/s: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Melissa McCall, reference to Scott McCall
Summary: Most people present as either Alpha, Beta or Omega in high school. Stiles is a late bloomer, and he's already eighteen when he presents as an Omega. With all his friends already having mates, he doesn't know who his playmating partner will be. Enter Derek Hale, the Alpha who hasn't been seen in Beacon Hills for the past two years.
Warnings: n/a
Content Notes: playmating is the set-up, but nothing sexual actually happens in this fic. everyone is a werewolf. A/B/O world.
Submission Type: Fic
Word Count: 1765
Prompt: #130: play
Author's Notes: I had about four different thoughts for this prompts, but then playmating just wouldn't get out of my head. (even though none actually happens, sorry, I chickened out on the smutty part) Un-Betaed. Title from Darren Criss' song Don't You.
He's just turned eighteen and it's too late, he knows it. Most of his classmates have gone through this in sophomore year, most of them presented when they were sixteen at most -- Scott was the last one, presenting as Alpha to everyone's surprise, because he'd been acting as an Omega until then -- except for Stiles. Of course he's the last one of them, the one no one seemed to get a read on, not even Deaton, the local Emissary.
So he's eighteen, and this isn't happening the way it did for Scott, not like for Erica and Boyd -- they were lucky enough to bond at the time -- nor Lydia and Allison. It isn't happening like it did for anyone, Stiles thinks as he walks into the clinic, hands shaking with nervousness that he's trying to pretend he's not feeling.
Because he's in the clinic, having finally presented as Omega the day after his eighteenth birthday, two years after his best friend had been here with the supervision of his mother. Stiles is alone, because as an adult, he doesn't need his father present. It's not required by law to have a guardian there, not like it usually is during these sessions, but then they normally happen before the person is of legal age.
"Hi, I'm…" he starts saying, his voice shakier than he wants it to be.
"Stiles, hi," Melissa McCall greets him, her own tone wavering between cheerful and worried.
He knows the tone, it's a motherly one, and with her sort of dating his Dad, it's something he's learned to accept now. He's not sure he wants her to be here, doesn't know if having someone who knows him is comforting or mortifying, but to his relief she doesn't look judgmental.
"Come on, kiddo, let's get you checked in," she says softly, and gets up from her desk, nodding towards the rooms at the back.
Stiles heard everything about the clinic from Scott, in excruciating and not always appreciated detail, from when Scott was here for his session after presenting.
Play-mating.
Stiles lets the word roll around his mind again, like it has been for the past two weeks. It's no less worrying now that he's here, because this is happening, and despite Scott's recount of his own visit here, Stiles has no idea what to expect. It's different for adults, he was told. Normally it's teenagers, with strict supervision from a guardian each, meeting up in the clinic after a detailed arrangement between the families. Normally it's just a fun, no strings attached, no actual worry about bonding kind of an event. Normally it's two friends practicing how to control their urges before each of them goes into heat.
When was I ever normal? Stiles asks himself, a bitter tone to the voice in his head.
With all his friends and classmates having had their play-mating sessions long ago and with all of them already bonded or at least pre-bonded ever since, he's alone here. Alone and wondering who the unfortunate soul who'll have to put up with his delayed ass -- pun only sort of intended -- will be. Because he's going into the session blind, only knowing from his Dad that an Alpha agreed to take the task on, but Stiles doesn't know who the Alpha is.
"Okay, here's your room," Melissa says, and she points towards a door no different to any others in the building. "Do you remember the rules?"
Stiles nods solemnly.
"Clothes stay on unless there's mutual consent, no bites that would leave marks, no bonding, if I feel like I might be going into real heat I get out," he recites the words that he's read over and over in the last week. "If I feel threatened or uncomfortable, I have a panic button and a safe word."
"What's your safe word?" Melissa asks.
"Claudia."
She nods, knowing the significance of the name, and both of them pause for a moment. Stiles thinks of his Mom -- he knew her name would be his safe word long before he presented -- and what she would think of all this.
"Hey, kiddo," Melissa interrupts his thoughts. "She'd be proud of you, no matter what. She's always been proud of you. We all are."
"I… thank you," Stiles blurts out, and he ducks his head.
"Go on in," she tells him then, to his relief. "You'll be okay."
I hope so, he thinks, though he doesn't say it out loud. He manages a nod, and then he's in the door, and his eyes are scanning over the room behind it.
It looks cozy, walls covered in a warm color, a comfortable couch in the middle of the space. There is a snack table with bottles of water, and Stiles can't help but think that it almost looks like a room that's prepared for someone's heat.
He's still looking around when the door opens again, and Stiles turns, almost making himself dizzy with the speed. What does make his head spin is the person who is standing by the now closed again door, with a perfectly blank expression in his face.
"I…" Stiles tries to speak, but his voice is rough all of a sudden. He clears it, and then tries again, "I think you have the wrong room."
"I don't."
That catches Stiles off-guard even more, because he's in the play-mating room with the last person he was expecting.
Derek Hale, his mind unhelpfully and redundantly supplies while it's reeling. I'm in the room with Derek. In the play-mating room, with Alpha Derek Hale, Stiles thinks.
"You are," Derek says, making Stiles realize that he's actually been mumbling the words that ran through his mind as he was processing the situation. "I hope that is not a problem?"
The question is softer and more hesitant than the usual distant, cold and rough tone that Stiles is used to from Derek. Of course, the first time he's heard it was when Derek caught them on the Hale property back in freshman year, when they went looking for Stiles' hoodie that he'd lost the night before during one of their sneaky expeditions into the Preserve. The same hoodie that Stiles has long grown out of and yet he keeps it in the back of his closet.
Derek hadn't been around for a few years, though, so Stiles is still thrown by the fact that he's here now, and standing in the room like it's no big deal.
"You're back," Stiles blurts out, his brain to mouth filter obviously broken again.
"I am," Derek nods. "Hey, are you sure you're okay? I can call the nurse…"
Stiles shakes his head quickly and he mumbles a no in what he hopes is a convincing tone.
"You smell nervous," Derek says then, still from his spot by the door.
"Well, I am, a bit," Stiles says, and he tries to bite down the 'duh' that threatens to slip past his lips. "I don't… I mean, I know what to expect, Scott's been very helpful," he shudders at the memory of Scott's retelling of his own play-mating, "but it's still… Melissa was there, uh, I mean Mrs McCall…"
"If you'd be more comfortable with your Dad here…"
"Oh hell no," Stiles says almost in a panic before Derek can finish the thought.
Derek chuckles, and the sound makes Stiles freeze and stare in disbelief. It's such a foreign sound, all he remembers Derek as is a growling, frowning Alpha who chased Stiles off of the Hale property and then continued to glare at him whenever they ran into each other in town.
"I'm sorry," Derek says when Stiles continues staring for longer than he can brush off.
"No, don't," Stiles says, and he shakes his head to clear it. "It's just, I don't think I've seen you smile before," he adds quietly.
"I didn't use to," Derek admits. "Not after the fire…"
His voice fades out, and Stiles wants to apologize again. He knows about the fire, of course, the one that left Derek with almost no family. Before he can say anything, Derek shakes his head and look away, though, like it's not something he wants to talk about. Stiles understands that, there are shadows in his past he's not touching, even though none of them are as big as the weight that's on Derek's shoulders.
"So, uh," he says instead, eager to change the topic. "How do we… what do we do here?"
There's a hint of gratitude in Derek's eyes when he looks back to Stiles, and the hint of a smile is back on Derek's lips. He looks almost the same as when Stiles and Scott got caught in the Preserve, but there's a shadow on Derek's jaw that makes him look a little more rugged, and his shoulders aren't hunched like they used to be.
"Whatever you're comfortable with," Derek says, his eyes dropping down to Stiles' mouth.
"Kissing," Stiles' lips form around the word before he can think it through -- brain filter still off obviously. "Kissing sounds like something I wouldn't mind," he rambles on, his own eyes finding Derek's mouth.
He steps forward, because Derek doesn't look like he's going to move, and it's only when they're toe to toe that Stiles breathes in properly for the first time since Derek walked in. He's immediately hit with the mixture that makes up Derek's unique scent. There's the smell of leather, forest, motor oil -- Stiles' mind jumps to the black Camaro he remembers Derek driving -- and a hint of low arousal.
"Oh," he breathes out when the scents register, and his own body floods with warmth.
It's not heat, Stiles knows that, but being this close to Derek makes his wolf restless, impatient. Nothing happens for a few beats, and when Stiles looks into Derek's eyes again, he realizes that Derek is waiting for him.
"Oh," Stiles says again, a little dumbly because he didn't expect the consideration from an Alpha.
There is only one thought in his mind when he finally leans in and brushes his lips against Derek's surprisingly soft ones, and when their fingers find their way together.
It's only play, Stiles thinks, play-mating. It's not for real.
With that reminder to himself, and with the sudden realization that walking away will not be as easy as he'd expected it to be, Stiles' kisses become a little different. If it's only play, he's going to make sure to make a memory to last him a long time.