ficlet: special effort
Author: froggydarren
Title: special effort
Rating: G
Pairing/s: Derek/Stiles
Character/s: Derek, Stiles, Sheriff Stilinski
Summary: The Sheriff knows they're dating, he's invited Derek for dinner, and there really shouldn't be anything to worry about. Still, Stiles doesn't miss the subtle things that show how nervous Derek seems to be about it all.
Warnings: n/a
Content Notes: Sheriff's first name is John.
Submission Type: ficlet
Word Count: ~700
Prompt: #200 - family dinner
Author's Notes: This is a follow-up to my last week's prompt fill: unsurprising discovery, but it should be readable as a standalone. I haven't checked this over at all, because last minute writing, so apologies for any massive grammar crimes. Or any other mistakes.
“Did you seriously…” Stiles starts, but the rest of the words get stuck behind a chuckle.
Derek tries to glare, but he looks a little too ruffled and unsettled, so it falls a little flat, and more like he’s huffing in annoyance.
“Why?” Stiles asks after a while.
He doesn’t get an answer, and several options run through his mind as he watches Derek’s face morph into a frown. The twitch of Derek’s hands doesn’t escape Stiles’ attention either, nor the clenched fists and tension that’s obvious even without werewolf senses and chemo signals.
“You know you didn’t have to,” he says, and watches as Derek shrugs. “Dude, your file has been on Dad’s desk for weeks. He already said he knew about this,” Stiles waves a hand to point at Derek and then himself, “for ages. He has a yellow post-it on your file. Yellow, Derek.”
“Is that supposed to mean anything to me?” Derek asks, frowning again, and he’s clearly not amused.
“Oh, right, Dad’s insane filing system,” Stiles says, bracing himself for the explanation.
Derek lifts an eyebrow, and the corner of his lips twitches.
“Shut up,” Stiles tells him, but he echoes the smirk. “Anyway, yellow is good. It’s awesome, actually. Dad has this thing about not using yellow post-its because…”
“They’re damn predictable,” the Sheriff interrupts and finishes Stiles’ explanation.
“Oh my God, Dad,” Stiles yelps, caught completely off guard. “I’ve already threatened this one,” he points to Derek, “with a bell. Don’t make me get you one too.”
“How about no?” John frowns, and he shrugs off his jacket without taking his eyes off Stiles. “How about you remember how I didn’t do just that when you were younger, and you try to become more aware of your surroundings? If you’re going to be anywhere near field work, you’ll need to train that skill.”
Stiles opens his mouth to protest, but then quickly shuts it when his Dad gives him a short glare before he walks away in the direction of the kitchen.
“I’ve ordered pizza for dinner, by the way,” John calls out a few moments later, while Stiles is still frozen in silence.
There’s a weak sound of protest that slips from Stiles’ lips, because pizza and diet, but then Derek’s hand is on his shoulder, and Stiles turns around.
“Hey, let him have this,” Derek says. “He hasn’t shot either of us after he caught us here this afternoon, that’s bound to be worth a reward.”
Stiles snorts.
“Yeah, he’ll be milking that one for a while, you know? Especially if I’m right and you do start working with the Sheriff’s Department,” he says. “Yellow post-it notes. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Are you boys coming to set the table or what?” John shouts from the kitchen before Derek can say anything. “Unless you think that standing in the hallway means that the pizza will arrive faster.”
Derek turns Stiles around, and leads him towards the kitchen. There, they start getting out plates and glasses, and Stiles doesn’t stop until the doorbell rings. John heads out to get the food, and that’s when Stiles takes a moment to take in the room, and thinks about the way he and Derek fits.
“Come on, son,” John says when he walks back in, and he claps a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “Help me with this, before Stiles decides that there’s kale somewhere in this house that I should eat instead.”
Stiles watches them, and he shakes his head at first at his Dad’s words. Then he joins John and Derek at the table, and his shoulders let go of the tension he tried to ignore all afternoon. He knows that they’re going to talk after dinner, but if John’s mood and attitude towards Derek is anything to go by, Derek’s already seen as part of the family.
“You really didn’t need to put on your special shirt,” Stiles says when they all reach for the pizza, and Derek nearly drops his piece in surprise. “It’s not like you can impress Dad any more than you already have.”
The only responses he gets are his father’s chuckle and the crimson that almost immediately creeps into Derek’s face.
Title: special effort
Rating: G
Pairing/s: Derek/Stiles
Character/s: Derek, Stiles, Sheriff Stilinski
Summary: The Sheriff knows they're dating, he's invited Derek for dinner, and there really shouldn't be anything to worry about. Still, Stiles doesn't miss the subtle things that show how nervous Derek seems to be about it all.
Warnings: n/a
Content Notes: Sheriff's first name is John.
Submission Type: ficlet
Word Count: ~700
Prompt: #200 - family dinner
Author's Notes: This is a follow-up to my last week's prompt fill: unsurprising discovery, but it should be readable as a standalone. I haven't checked this over at all, because last minute writing, so apologies for any massive grammar crimes. Or any other mistakes.
“Did you seriously…” Stiles starts, but the rest of the words get stuck behind a chuckle.
Derek tries to glare, but he looks a little too ruffled and unsettled, so it falls a little flat, and more like he’s huffing in annoyance.
“Why?” Stiles asks after a while.
He doesn’t get an answer, and several options run through his mind as he watches Derek’s face morph into a frown. The twitch of Derek’s hands doesn’t escape Stiles’ attention either, nor the clenched fists and tension that’s obvious even without werewolf senses and chemo signals.
“You know you didn’t have to,” he says, and watches as Derek shrugs. “Dude, your file has been on Dad’s desk for weeks. He already said he knew about this,” Stiles waves a hand to point at Derek and then himself, “for ages. He has a yellow post-it on your file. Yellow, Derek.”
“Is that supposed to mean anything to me?” Derek asks, frowning again, and he’s clearly not amused.
“Oh, right, Dad’s insane filing system,” Stiles says, bracing himself for the explanation.
Derek lifts an eyebrow, and the corner of his lips twitches.
“Shut up,” Stiles tells him, but he echoes the smirk. “Anyway, yellow is good. It’s awesome, actually. Dad has this thing about not using yellow post-its because…”
“They’re damn predictable,” the Sheriff interrupts and finishes Stiles’ explanation.
“Oh my God, Dad,” Stiles yelps, caught completely off guard. “I’ve already threatened this one,” he points to Derek, “with a bell. Don’t make me get you one too.”
“How about no?” John frowns, and he shrugs off his jacket without taking his eyes off Stiles. “How about you remember how I didn’t do just that when you were younger, and you try to become more aware of your surroundings? If you’re going to be anywhere near field work, you’ll need to train that skill.”
Stiles opens his mouth to protest, but then quickly shuts it when his Dad gives him a short glare before he walks away in the direction of the kitchen.
“I’ve ordered pizza for dinner, by the way,” John calls out a few moments later, while Stiles is still frozen in silence.
There’s a weak sound of protest that slips from Stiles’ lips, because pizza and diet, but then Derek’s hand is on his shoulder, and Stiles turns around.
“Hey, let him have this,” Derek says. “He hasn’t shot either of us after he caught us here this afternoon, that’s bound to be worth a reward.”
Stiles snorts.
“Yeah, he’ll be milking that one for a while, you know? Especially if I’m right and you do start working with the Sheriff’s Department,” he says. “Yellow post-it notes. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Are you boys coming to set the table or what?” John shouts from the kitchen before Derek can say anything. “Unless you think that standing in the hallway means that the pizza will arrive faster.”
Derek turns Stiles around, and leads him towards the kitchen. There, they start getting out plates and glasses, and Stiles doesn’t stop until the doorbell rings. John heads out to get the food, and that’s when Stiles takes a moment to take in the room, and thinks about the way he and Derek fits.
“Come on, son,” John says when he walks back in, and he claps a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “Help me with this, before Stiles decides that there’s kale somewhere in this house that I should eat instead.”
Stiles watches them, and he shakes his head at first at his Dad’s words. Then he joins John and Derek at the table, and his shoulders let go of the tension he tried to ignore all afternoon. He knows that they’re going to talk after dinner, but if John’s mood and attitude towards Derek is anything to go by, Derek’s already seen as part of the family.
“You really didn’t need to put on your special shirt,” Stiles says when they all reach for the pizza, and Derek nearly drops his piece in surprise. “It’s not like you can impress Dad any more than you already have.”
The only responses he gets are his father’s chuckle and the crimson that almost immediately creeps into Derek’s face.