Ficlet: There's nothing to growl at || PG-13 || Stiles/Derek
Author: marishna
Title: There's nothing to growl at
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: Stiles/Derek
Character/s: Stiles, Derek
Summary:
The howls in the distance would have, at one time, set Stiles' teeth on edge. His fingers would have itched to clutch at his keys, ready to run down his stairs and jump in his jeep to speed off into the night toward whatever danger lurked under dark tree canopies and down shady alleys.
Warnings:None
Content Notes: Established relationship, future!fic
Submission Type: Ficlet
Word Count: 715-ish
Prompt: 211 - serenade
Author's Notes: I had a vague idea in mind for this but I wasn't sure how to accomplish it. Not sure if I did it in the end but it was an interesting exercise in any event.
The howls in the distance would have, at one time, set Stiles' teeth on edge. His fingers would have itched to clutch at his keys, ready to run down his stairs and jump in his jeep to speed off into the night toward whatever danger lurked under dark tree canopies and down shady alleys.
The urge still struck him by times but for different reasons. There was a resonance in the tone that he could feel in his bones immediately and it sent shivers through his body even at the memory of it days later. It was a signal that he was being thought of and missed and would soon be greeted again.
Figuring out how to adjust someone's presence in your life when they were already integrated took some getting used to. They quickly figured out how to tilt their heads when they kissed without noses and lips mashing together, established an official "date night" that was pack-free, and Derek made the weekly Sunday dinner visit with Stiles at the Sheriff's house.
It was the things that once happened out of necessity (usually because of mortal danger, let's be honest) that in the harsh light of a normal day felt awkward that were the stumbling blocks. Things like Stiles' need to know all details of anything because his mind was always analyzing, re-postulating, and deducing. Like Derek's need for quiet and space regularly. Like their constantly opposing views on how to investigate threats and compose plans.
Like the fully-formed werewolf form Derek could change into at will.
("It doesn't bother me," he whispered in the dark, late one random night. He knew Derek wasn't sleeping because he wasn't fully relaxed against Stiles' back and the muscles in one arm were jumping against Stiles' skin where his hand wrapped around Stiles' waist.
Derek didn't reply but in the morning when Stiles woke up he was alone in bed and so he knew this was another battle he would be attempting to show Derek wasn't being fought.)
Derek's fear about it was a surprise, however. Stiles didn't need to be a werewolf to pick up on Derek's anxiety their first full moon together as they met with the rest of the pack. Derek didn't stay long, he never did, and he left by kissing the top of Stiles' head and avoiding his eyes.
That night was the first time Stiles heard the sound, Derek serenading him from afar as his cries echoed in the distance. Stiles didn't sleep that night and, by the exhausted look on his face the next day, Derek didn't either.
The rest of the pack wisely stayed silent on the matter and things were their new normal within a week but Stiles knew Scott must have talked to Derek. Second month was the same as the first but closer to Stiles' place.
Third month much of the same and so on until Derek stalked the edges of his property like a shadow, and Stiles at once realized the instinctual element behind their new normal. Neither of them had any control over it and with that thought Stiles relaxed for what first like the first time in months.
He slept easy that night, lulled by what he imagined was the sound of swishing leaves caused by Derek's ever-vigilant patrolling and faint grumbling from the perimeter.
The next month Stiles left his bedroom window wide open--as an invitation mostly but also because summer officially settled in and his single fan wasn't cutting it.
Perhaps emboldened by Stiles' lack of worry or maybe too hot to move, Derek lay outside Stiles' window and kept watch as usual. It wasn't until after midnight Derek started grumbling, until he was growling lowly to himself at hidden dangers that were likely just racoons in the bushes.
"It's fine, Derek," Stiles murmured sleepily into the dark of his room, rolling over onto his side. "It's okay."
And that night, it was. Which wasn't to say every night in every month would be so quiet and event-free but it was enough.
Stiles awoke in the morning with a hot naked werewolf pressed to his side and they encountered a new level of awkward involving sticky, sweat-slick skin pressed together in a double bed. Just one more adjustment in a long line.
Title: There's nothing to growl at
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: Stiles/Derek
Character/s: Stiles, Derek
Summary:
The howls in the distance would have, at one time, set Stiles' teeth on edge. His fingers would have itched to clutch at his keys, ready to run down his stairs and jump in his jeep to speed off into the night toward whatever danger lurked under dark tree canopies and down shady alleys.
Warnings:None
Content Notes: Established relationship, future!fic
Submission Type: Ficlet
Word Count: 715-ish
Prompt: 211 - serenade
Author's Notes: I had a vague idea in mind for this but I wasn't sure how to accomplish it. Not sure if I did it in the end but it was an interesting exercise in any event.
The howls in the distance would have, at one time, set Stiles' teeth on edge. His fingers would have itched to clutch at his keys, ready to run down his stairs and jump in his jeep to speed off into the night toward whatever danger lurked under dark tree canopies and down shady alleys.
The urge still struck him by times but for different reasons. There was a resonance in the tone that he could feel in his bones immediately and it sent shivers through his body even at the memory of it days later. It was a signal that he was being thought of and missed and would soon be greeted again.
Figuring out how to adjust someone's presence in your life when they were already integrated took some getting used to. They quickly figured out how to tilt their heads when they kissed without noses and lips mashing together, established an official "date night" that was pack-free, and Derek made the weekly Sunday dinner visit with Stiles at the Sheriff's house.
It was the things that once happened out of necessity (usually because of mortal danger, let's be honest) that in the harsh light of a normal day felt awkward that were the stumbling blocks. Things like Stiles' need to know all details of anything because his mind was always analyzing, re-postulating, and deducing. Like Derek's need for quiet and space regularly. Like their constantly opposing views on how to investigate threats and compose plans.
Like the fully-formed werewolf form Derek could change into at will.
("It doesn't bother me," he whispered in the dark, late one random night. He knew Derek wasn't sleeping because he wasn't fully relaxed against Stiles' back and the muscles in one arm were jumping against Stiles' skin where his hand wrapped around Stiles' waist.
Derek didn't reply but in the morning when Stiles woke up he was alone in bed and so he knew this was another battle he would be attempting to show Derek wasn't being fought.)
Derek's fear about it was a surprise, however. Stiles didn't need to be a werewolf to pick up on Derek's anxiety their first full moon together as they met with the rest of the pack. Derek didn't stay long, he never did, and he left by kissing the top of Stiles' head and avoiding his eyes.
That night was the first time Stiles heard the sound, Derek serenading him from afar as his cries echoed in the distance. Stiles didn't sleep that night and, by the exhausted look on his face the next day, Derek didn't either.
The rest of the pack wisely stayed silent on the matter and things were their new normal within a week but Stiles knew Scott must have talked to Derek. Second month was the same as the first but closer to Stiles' place.
Third month much of the same and so on until Derek stalked the edges of his property like a shadow, and Stiles at once realized the instinctual element behind their new normal. Neither of them had any control over it and with that thought Stiles relaxed for what first like the first time in months.
He slept easy that night, lulled by what he imagined was the sound of swishing leaves caused by Derek's ever-vigilant patrolling and faint grumbling from the perimeter.
The next month Stiles left his bedroom window wide open--as an invitation mostly but also because summer officially settled in and his single fan wasn't cutting it.
Perhaps emboldened by Stiles' lack of worry or maybe too hot to move, Derek lay outside Stiles' window and kept watch as usual. It wasn't until after midnight Derek started grumbling, until he was growling lowly to himself at hidden dangers that were likely just racoons in the bushes.
"It's fine, Derek," Stiles murmured sleepily into the dark of his room, rolling over onto his side. "It's okay."
And that night, it was. Which wasn't to say every night in every month would be so quiet and event-free but it was enough.
Stiles awoke in the morning with a hot naked werewolf pressed to his side and they encountered a new level of awkward involving sticky, sweat-slick skin pressed together in a double bed. Just one more adjustment in a long line.