i don't need a parachute, baby if i've got you - derek/stiles - pg
Title: i don't need a parachute, baby if i've got you
Pairing(s): Derek/Stiles
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,130
Warning(s): Unbeta'ed
Summary: Tea, cookies, and late night kisses.
Disclaimer: Not mine, but it's keeping me sane in college, pretending the are.
Stiles decides enough is enough when he almost gets impaled on an exposed beam during a pack meeting. He prepares this whole speech about not living like a recluse and actually having a home to live in, and seriously Derek, where do you even sleep-
Stiles only gets halfway through before Derek just shrugs at him and tells him to do whatever he wants. As long as Stiles schedules everything, he doesn’t have a problem.
So Stiles immediately goes and collects Lydia and they pour over home improvement magazines and make trips to Home Depot and soon enough, the Hale house is being reconstructed. Lydia has a lot of opinions on just how the house should look, and Stiles doesn’t really question her choices, because she gets this determined look in her eye, and nobody messes with a determined Lydia Martin.
*
It’s one afternoon in early spring, and Stiles is grabbing a bottle of water in Derek’s newly remodeled kitchen. He can hear the roofers pounding in shingles, and can smell sawdust in the air.
He takes a sip of his water and opens one of the cabinets, talking to Derek over his shoulder, who has just entered the room behind him.
“Derek, seriously, if you’re ever going to actually live here, you need more than microwave dinners and, and - tea?”
Stiles grabs the box and turns around. “You. You drink tea?”
Derek carefully takes the box from Stiles and doesn’t meet his gaze when he replies, “It was my mom’s favorite. She-“
He cuts off and starts to turn away, but Stiles grabs his arm.
“Hey, no. You can tell me.” Derek tenses under Stiles’ grip, and Stiles immediately drops his hold.
“She used to drink it every night before she went to bed. And,” Derek swallows, “And if I had a nightmare, she would make me some and it would put me right to sleep.”
Stiles can hear the sadness in Derek’s voice and his heart tugs in sympathy. All he wants to do is pull Derek into a hug and make him feel even a little bit better, but he’s sure his attempts at comfort would be rejected.
“Derek-“ Stiles begins, but is interrupted when Scott bangs through the back door laden down with buckets of paint. Stiles scurries to help him, and when he turns back, Derek is gone.
*
A few nights later, Stiles can’t fall asleep. Well, he did fall asleep, but his nightmare woke him up, and now he can’t go back to sleep.
It should be the easiest thing in the world. He’s exhausted and sore from helping with the rebuilding, and he’s pretty sure he’s going to have a permanent kink in his back from the way he was stretching when painting today. But it’s just not happening.
Stiles kicks off his sheets in frustration and makes his way down to the kitchen. He grabs ingredients from the cabinets and fridge and just lets his mind wander.
Before he knows it, he has three dozen chocolate chip cookies cooling in various places around the kitchen, and somehow, flour in his hair. Stiles sighs and begins to pack them up. He knows if he leaves them here, his dad will eat them all, and that’s not going to help Stiles’ attempts to make him eat healthier.
Getting into his Jeep and starting it, Stiles wonders where he can take the cookies. All of his friends will be asleep, seeing as it’s 2:30 in the morning, but he knows one person who might just still be awake.
The drive to Derek’s seems a lot longer than normal, but that might just be because Stiles is finally starting to feel the exhaustion settle in. He pulls slowly up the driveway, not surprised to see Derek skulking on the porch.
Stiles grabs the containers and makes his way out of the Jeep and up to the house, smiling at Derek as he gets nearer.
“What’re you doing here, Stiles?” Derek asks, and Stiles shrugs.
“Couldn’t sleep.” Stiles doesn’t go into detail about his nightmare. He can’t remember much about it, except that he woke up with tears in his eyes and an ache in his heart that yearned for his mother.
Derek nods and turns back to the house, locking the door behind Stiles after he slips in. Stiles makes his way to the kitchen and sets the containers on the counter.
“I, um, made some cookies,” Stiles explains, “Whenever I couldn’t sleep when I was younger, my mom and I-“ Stiles stop and swallows hard. If he continues, he knows he’ll start crying, so he just takes a deep breath and turns to Derek. He doesn’t really know why he just let that little detail slip, but he’s okay with it. He feels like Derek deserves to know after sharing his memory about his mom.
Derek, who is watching him with a sad look on his face, but a determined look in his eye. He moves towards Stiles, and Stiles tenses, not sure what to expect, but Derek just bypasses him and opens a cabinet. He rummages around for a minute before pulling out the tea from the other day.
Derek sets about making tea, and Stiles wanders off to the living room. As curious as he is to Derek’s tea making abilities, a soft surface is calling to him. He drops down on the couch and pulls his knees up, resting his head on them. His eyelids are growing heavier and heavier, and he hopes Derek doesn’t mind if he falls asleep, because the couch is heavenly.
Stiles shakes himself awake when he hears Derek enter the room, and the scent of mint and lemon hits his nose. He smiles sleepily up at Derek and carefully takes the mug he’s holding out to him. He moves to sit back, but Derek’s hand in his hair stills him. Derek’s thumb moves in slow strokes over his scalp, and Stiles stays frozen in shock.
“Flour.” Derek murmurs, taking his hand back, but not stepping away. Stiles shifts until he’s on his knees, and rises up so he’s level with Derek. He hesitates for a split second before leaning forward and connecting his lips with Derek, who makes a small sound in the back of his throat before fisting his hand in Stiles’ hoodie.
His other hand comes to cradle Stiles’ head at the same time Stiles brings his hands up to fist in Derek’s shirt. He vaguely hears their mugs hitting the floor, and pulls back from Derek slightly.
“Lydia just bought this rug, she’s going to kill us.”
Derek growls and yanks Stiles closer to him, “I’m really not concerned with that right now.”
Stiles laughs and grins at Derek, “Yeah, me neither.”
Pairing(s): Derek/Stiles
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,130
Warning(s): Unbeta'ed
Summary: Tea, cookies, and late night kisses.
Disclaimer: Not mine, but it's keeping me sane in college, pretending the are.
Stiles decides enough is enough when he almost gets impaled on an exposed beam during a pack meeting. He prepares this whole speech about not living like a recluse and actually having a home to live in, and seriously Derek, where do you even sleep-
Stiles only gets halfway through before Derek just shrugs at him and tells him to do whatever he wants. As long as Stiles schedules everything, he doesn’t have a problem.
So Stiles immediately goes and collects Lydia and they pour over home improvement magazines and make trips to Home Depot and soon enough, the Hale house is being reconstructed. Lydia has a lot of opinions on just how the house should look, and Stiles doesn’t really question her choices, because she gets this determined look in her eye, and nobody messes with a determined Lydia Martin.
*
It’s one afternoon in early spring, and Stiles is grabbing a bottle of water in Derek’s newly remodeled kitchen. He can hear the roofers pounding in shingles, and can smell sawdust in the air.
He takes a sip of his water and opens one of the cabinets, talking to Derek over his shoulder, who has just entered the room behind him.
“Derek, seriously, if you’re ever going to actually live here, you need more than microwave dinners and, and - tea?”
Stiles grabs the box and turns around. “You. You drink tea?”
Derek carefully takes the box from Stiles and doesn’t meet his gaze when he replies, “It was my mom’s favorite. She-“
He cuts off and starts to turn away, but Stiles grabs his arm.
“Hey, no. You can tell me.” Derek tenses under Stiles’ grip, and Stiles immediately drops his hold.
“She used to drink it every night before she went to bed. And,” Derek swallows, “And if I had a nightmare, she would make me some and it would put me right to sleep.”
Stiles can hear the sadness in Derek’s voice and his heart tugs in sympathy. All he wants to do is pull Derek into a hug and make him feel even a little bit better, but he’s sure his attempts at comfort would be rejected.
“Derek-“ Stiles begins, but is interrupted when Scott bangs through the back door laden down with buckets of paint. Stiles scurries to help him, and when he turns back, Derek is gone.
*
A few nights later, Stiles can’t fall asleep. Well, he did fall asleep, but his nightmare woke him up, and now he can’t go back to sleep.
It should be the easiest thing in the world. He’s exhausted and sore from helping with the rebuilding, and he’s pretty sure he’s going to have a permanent kink in his back from the way he was stretching when painting today. But it’s just not happening.
Stiles kicks off his sheets in frustration and makes his way down to the kitchen. He grabs ingredients from the cabinets and fridge and just lets his mind wander.
Before he knows it, he has three dozen chocolate chip cookies cooling in various places around the kitchen, and somehow, flour in his hair. Stiles sighs and begins to pack them up. He knows if he leaves them here, his dad will eat them all, and that’s not going to help Stiles’ attempts to make him eat healthier.
Getting into his Jeep and starting it, Stiles wonders where he can take the cookies. All of his friends will be asleep, seeing as it’s 2:30 in the morning, but he knows one person who might just still be awake.
The drive to Derek’s seems a lot longer than normal, but that might just be because Stiles is finally starting to feel the exhaustion settle in. He pulls slowly up the driveway, not surprised to see Derek skulking on the porch.
Stiles grabs the containers and makes his way out of the Jeep and up to the house, smiling at Derek as he gets nearer.
“What’re you doing here, Stiles?” Derek asks, and Stiles shrugs.
“Couldn’t sleep.” Stiles doesn’t go into detail about his nightmare. He can’t remember much about it, except that he woke up with tears in his eyes and an ache in his heart that yearned for his mother.
Derek nods and turns back to the house, locking the door behind Stiles after he slips in. Stiles makes his way to the kitchen and sets the containers on the counter.
“I, um, made some cookies,” Stiles explains, “Whenever I couldn’t sleep when I was younger, my mom and I-“ Stiles stop and swallows hard. If he continues, he knows he’ll start crying, so he just takes a deep breath and turns to Derek. He doesn’t really know why he just let that little detail slip, but he’s okay with it. He feels like Derek deserves to know after sharing his memory about his mom.
Derek, who is watching him with a sad look on his face, but a determined look in his eye. He moves towards Stiles, and Stiles tenses, not sure what to expect, but Derek just bypasses him and opens a cabinet. He rummages around for a minute before pulling out the tea from the other day.
Derek sets about making tea, and Stiles wanders off to the living room. As curious as he is to Derek’s tea making abilities, a soft surface is calling to him. He drops down on the couch and pulls his knees up, resting his head on them. His eyelids are growing heavier and heavier, and he hopes Derek doesn’t mind if he falls asleep, because the couch is heavenly.
Stiles shakes himself awake when he hears Derek enter the room, and the scent of mint and lemon hits his nose. He smiles sleepily up at Derek and carefully takes the mug he’s holding out to him. He moves to sit back, but Derek’s hand in his hair stills him. Derek’s thumb moves in slow strokes over his scalp, and Stiles stays frozen in shock.
“Flour.” Derek murmurs, taking his hand back, but not stepping away. Stiles shifts until he’s on his knees, and rises up so he’s level with Derek. He hesitates for a split second before leaning forward and connecting his lips with Derek, who makes a small sound in the back of his throat before fisting his hand in Stiles’ hoodie.
His other hand comes to cradle Stiles’ head at the same time Stiles brings his hands up to fist in Derek’s shirt. He vaguely hears their mugs hitting the floor, and pulls back from Derek slightly.
“Lydia just bought this rug, she’s going to kill us.”
Derek growls and yanks Stiles closer to him, “I’m really not concerned with that right now.”
Stiles laughs and grins at Derek, “Yeah, me neither.”