Fic: take the flag down off the mast || Stiles/Derek || PG-13
I've spent the weekend working on challenges for the various landcomms I'm in and dozing in my chair, basically.
I've also been periodically pondering an idea my boss put forth to me on Friday and told me to take the weekend to think over. She has a fuckton of stuff on her plate and I'm floundering a bit in my current position. She would like me to take over handling telemarketing not just for us but for our other paper as well, so she doesn't have to worry about micromanaging it.
It sounds tempting, for sure, and I'll still be able to sell on top of that because I'm not becoming a manager or anything, but I would be a "supervisor" which isn't anything big but there's the added responsibility that comes with that. I would take the bridal show with me, though, because as stressed as it made me and as much as I hate it... I love it? I also fear that a shift in contacts for both the vendors and the people who help plan it with us would end up with a lot of frustration and a loss of confidence in our product.
My boss wanted me to come back tomorrow with my ideas for this but I really don't have any. I need someone to give me the infrastructure and then I fill in the details. I don't like taking orders but I like having guidance and the freedom to play with things within a boundary, which is what my boss knows and I'll have to counter to her tomorrow. I need to know what she's expecting of me, what her proposal is and then I can reframe things the way I think.
It would be involving myself in the other paper's telemarketing that is a bit daunting at this very moment simply because that paper is a mess and they don't have someone hovering over their shoulder like we do here so they tend to shit the bed more often than not.
I'm definitely more cautiously optimistic about this idea than some of the others my boss has tried to put forward to me that involved more paperwork and budgeting and speaking with the big boss. I fall apart under too much scrutiny and feel like I'm not doing enough and either start crying or would lash out, neither of which are options in this case, LOL. OBVIOUSLY.
So we'll see how tomorrow goes. I don't have to accept but I'm good at this sort of thing, at planning and encouraging and rallying the troops. I'll have more focus than JUST selling, which is a relief when I think about it. I really feel like my anxiety on top of the publications we have that are struggling right now, partly because of the economy and partly because of me, have really put a pin in my balloon. So this could be a really great thing for me.
take the flag down off the mast
Stiles/Derek, PG-13, 920-ish words
Written for prompt 142: Competition at fullmoon_ficlet
"It's not a competition," Derek grumbled and Stiles looked at him sharply, words ready on his tongue to shoot back in the form of a biting retort. He caught where Derek's eyes were staring, though, and fell silent. Stiles dropped his shirt and Derek's eyes snapped to his. "Remember that this isn't a contest."
Stiles collapsed to the ground, panting and clutching at his chest. Everyone else looked down at him with varying expressions of humor to eye-rolling irritation.
"It wasn't that bad," Scott said as he offered a hand and pulled Stiles back up.
"Easy for you to say. You're ten miles ahead of me, barely breathing heavy while I'm just trying to make sure I make it back to the house on time. I'm never going to win this race," Stiles complained, wiping his forehead with the hem of his shirt.
"It's not a competition," Derek grumbled and Stiles looked at him sharply, words ready on his tongue to shoot back in the form of a biting retort. He caught where Derek's eyes were staring, though, and fell silent. Stiles dropped his shirt and Derek's eyes snapped to his. "Remember that this isn't a contest."
As Derek stalked away to lead the next part of training Stiles knew exactly how he could make this a contest.
***
Allison joined the pack for the next training session to help with their archery skills. Everyone was learning every type of weapon or technique within their reach, lest anyone be rendered incapable with their usual method of defence.
"Bet I can get closer to the target than you," Stiles said mildly as he prepared his own bow beside Derek.
Derek snorted and didn't reply so Stiles shrugged, put the bow down and stripped his shirt over his head. Derek looked over, surprised.
"What are you doing?"
"I want to make sure I'm as comfortable as possible," Stiles replied, suppressing a smile.
Derek took a deep breath to focus himself and drew back. Stiles bit the inside of his cheek and watched as the arrow flew straight but wavered and hit just outside the target. Stiles heard Derek's sharp inhalation of disappointment and didn't hold back his cheesy grin as he stepped up and hustled Derek out of his place.
Stiles hefted the bow up, held it stead and drew back easily. Derek didn't know Stiles was getting private lessons from Allison because pack training often made him feel like a total idiot most of the time. He was actually pre-
Flag on the play.
Out of the corner of his eye Stiles saw Derek pull his own t-shirt over his head and throw it to the ground beside Stiles'.
Not a competition, right?
Stiles steeled himself and tried to focus but at the last second before he let go his peripheral vision caught Derek flexing his shoulders and he knew as soon as he bolt left his fingers he was screwed.
He landed his shot lower and to the left, at least a couple inches further than Derek from the target.
"Not bad," Derek murmured as he brushed past Stiles and winked.
Stiles took a long, deep breath as he carefully put the bow down. This was about to get ugly.
***
"All right, tall, dark and hairy!" Stiles called as he shoved the door to the loft open without knocking. Derek looked up from where he was sitting by the big windows reading with an amused look on his face. "Let's do this. Once and for all."
Derek arched an eyebrow. "What are you talking about."
"You and me. Right here, right now. Let's do this," Stiles said, pointing to a spot on the floor, his own legs planted soundly. Derek rose from his seat graceful but slow and careful. He crossed the floor warily and stopped a few feet away from Stiles.
"What are you talking about?" he asked cautiously.
"Staring contest!" Stiles declared triumphantly, waving a finger in the air. "Now."
Derek seemed to look both relieved and disappointed at once, but sighed as if resigning himself to the inevitable and stepped up to the spot Stiles indicated.
"We're just going to stare at each other until..." Derek shook his head questioningly.
"Until one of us breaks contact. Haven't you ever done a staring contest?" Stiles asked.
"No."
"You're in for a treat. And defeat. Ha! Rhyming, excellent. Get ready-on the count of three, okay?"
"Wait, we're just going to stare at ea-"
Stiles ploughed on. "One, two, three!"
Stiles and Derek were basically the same height so it wasn't uncomfortable and Stiles' steely determination kept his gaze on Derek's hazel eyes and he kept any thoughts about how dynamic and indescribable they were. He wasn't about to think about getting lost in them trying to figure out the perfect way to explain them and risk losing this contest when he made such a big deal about it.
Derek shifted back and forth on his feet but he kept staring into Stiles' eyes, laser focused despite clearly thinking this was the stupidest thing ever. Stiles wondered if his finite movements was a technique to get him to break. Maybe Derek did know how this worked.
Stiles licked his lips absently, working through the scenarios and wondering if he was getting played and he'd lose this stupid contest, too. Why did he ever think he would win anything against a werewolf?
"Fuck it," Derek muttered and before Stiles could even register the words Derek leaned in and grabbed Stiles' face, holding him still while Derek kissed him, completely and without any hesitation.
Derek pulled back a little, gauging Stiles' reaction. Stiles was stunned but a smile started at the corners of his mouth, drawing Derek back in.
"You win," Derek whispered before capturing Stiles' lips again.
I've also been periodically pondering an idea my boss put forth to me on Friday and told me to take the weekend to think over. She has a fuckton of stuff on her plate and I'm floundering a bit in my current position. She would like me to take over handling telemarketing not just for us but for our other paper as well, so she doesn't have to worry about micromanaging it.
It sounds tempting, for sure, and I'll still be able to sell on top of that because I'm not becoming a manager or anything, but I would be a "supervisor" which isn't anything big but there's the added responsibility that comes with that. I would take the bridal show with me, though, because as stressed as it made me and as much as I hate it... I love it? I also fear that a shift in contacts for both the vendors and the people who help plan it with us would end up with a lot of frustration and a loss of confidence in our product.
My boss wanted me to come back tomorrow with my ideas for this but I really don't have any. I need someone to give me the infrastructure and then I fill in the details. I don't like taking orders but I like having guidance and the freedom to play with things within a boundary, which is what my boss knows and I'll have to counter to her tomorrow. I need to know what she's expecting of me, what her proposal is and then I can reframe things the way I think.
It would be involving myself in the other paper's telemarketing that is a bit daunting at this very moment simply because that paper is a mess and they don't have someone hovering over their shoulder like we do here so they tend to shit the bed more often than not.
I'm definitely more cautiously optimistic about this idea than some of the others my boss has tried to put forward to me that involved more paperwork and budgeting and speaking with the big boss. I fall apart under too much scrutiny and feel like I'm not doing enough and either start crying or would lash out, neither of which are options in this case, LOL. OBVIOUSLY.
So we'll see how tomorrow goes. I don't have to accept but I'm good at this sort of thing, at planning and encouraging and rallying the troops. I'll have more focus than JUST selling, which is a relief when I think about it. I really feel like my anxiety on top of the publications we have that are struggling right now, partly because of the economy and partly because of me, have really put a pin in my balloon. So this could be a really great thing for me.
take the flag down off the mast
Stiles/Derek, PG-13, 920-ish words
Written for prompt 142: Competition at fullmoon_ficlet
"It's not a competition," Derek grumbled and Stiles looked at him sharply, words ready on his tongue to shoot back in the form of a biting retort. He caught where Derek's eyes were staring, though, and fell silent. Stiles dropped his shirt and Derek's eyes snapped to his. "Remember that this isn't a contest."
Stiles collapsed to the ground, panting and clutching at his chest. Everyone else looked down at him with varying expressions of humor to eye-rolling irritation.
"It wasn't that bad," Scott said as he offered a hand and pulled Stiles back up.
"Easy for you to say. You're ten miles ahead of me, barely breathing heavy while I'm just trying to make sure I make it back to the house on time. I'm never going to win this race," Stiles complained, wiping his forehead with the hem of his shirt.
"It's not a competition," Derek grumbled and Stiles looked at him sharply, words ready on his tongue to shoot back in the form of a biting retort. He caught where Derek's eyes were staring, though, and fell silent. Stiles dropped his shirt and Derek's eyes snapped to his. "Remember that this isn't a contest."
As Derek stalked away to lead the next part of training Stiles knew exactly how he could make this a contest.
***
Allison joined the pack for the next training session to help with their archery skills. Everyone was learning every type of weapon or technique within their reach, lest anyone be rendered incapable with their usual method of defence.
"Bet I can get closer to the target than you," Stiles said mildly as he prepared his own bow beside Derek.
Derek snorted and didn't reply so Stiles shrugged, put the bow down and stripped his shirt over his head. Derek looked over, surprised.
"What are you doing?"
"I want to make sure I'm as comfortable as possible," Stiles replied, suppressing a smile.
Derek took a deep breath to focus himself and drew back. Stiles bit the inside of his cheek and watched as the arrow flew straight but wavered and hit just outside the target. Stiles heard Derek's sharp inhalation of disappointment and didn't hold back his cheesy grin as he stepped up and hustled Derek out of his place.
Stiles hefted the bow up, held it stead and drew back easily. Derek didn't know Stiles was getting private lessons from Allison because pack training often made him feel like a total idiot most of the time. He was actually pre-
Flag on the play.
Out of the corner of his eye Stiles saw Derek pull his own t-shirt over his head and throw it to the ground beside Stiles'.
Not a competition, right?
Stiles steeled himself and tried to focus but at the last second before he let go his peripheral vision caught Derek flexing his shoulders and he knew as soon as he bolt left his fingers he was screwed.
He landed his shot lower and to the left, at least a couple inches further than Derek from the target.
"Not bad," Derek murmured as he brushed past Stiles and winked.
Stiles took a long, deep breath as he carefully put the bow down. This was about to get ugly.
***
"All right, tall, dark and hairy!" Stiles called as he shoved the door to the loft open without knocking. Derek looked up from where he was sitting by the big windows reading with an amused look on his face. "Let's do this. Once and for all."
Derek arched an eyebrow. "What are you talking about."
"You and me. Right here, right now. Let's do this," Stiles said, pointing to a spot on the floor, his own legs planted soundly. Derek rose from his seat graceful but slow and careful. He crossed the floor warily and stopped a few feet away from Stiles.
"What are you talking about?" he asked cautiously.
"Staring contest!" Stiles declared triumphantly, waving a finger in the air. "Now."
Derek seemed to look both relieved and disappointed at once, but sighed as if resigning himself to the inevitable and stepped up to the spot Stiles indicated.
"We're just going to stare at each other until..." Derek shook his head questioningly.
"Until one of us breaks contact. Haven't you ever done a staring contest?" Stiles asked.
"No."
"You're in for a treat. And defeat. Ha! Rhyming, excellent. Get ready-on the count of three, okay?"
"Wait, we're just going to stare at ea-"
Stiles ploughed on. "One, two, three!"
Stiles and Derek were basically the same height so it wasn't uncomfortable and Stiles' steely determination kept his gaze on Derek's hazel eyes and he kept any thoughts about how dynamic and indescribable they were. He wasn't about to think about getting lost in them trying to figure out the perfect way to explain them and risk losing this contest when he made such a big deal about it.
Derek shifted back and forth on his feet but he kept staring into Stiles' eyes, laser focused despite clearly thinking this was the stupidest thing ever. Stiles wondered if his finite movements was a technique to get him to break. Maybe Derek did know how this worked.
Stiles licked his lips absently, working through the scenarios and wondering if he was getting played and he'd lose this stupid contest, too. Why did he ever think he would win anything against a werewolf?
"Fuck it," Derek muttered and before Stiles could even register the words Derek leaned in and grabbed Stiles' face, holding him still while Derek kissed him, completely and without any hesitation.
Derek pulled back a little, gauging Stiles' reaction. Stiles was stunned but a smile started at the corners of his mouth, drawing Derek back in.
"You win," Derek whispered before capturing Stiles' lips again.