Fic: Derek Hale Ain't James Bond (But He Drives Like It)
Title: Derek Hale Ain't James Bond (But He Drives Like It)
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Warnings: Mechanic!AU
Summary: Couple a classic car with a sexy man and Stiles Stilinski certainly doesn't mind staying a little late at his garage. Derek Hale doesn't know what he's getting into.
A/N: Betaed by intobedlam and elanorofcastile. Written for picfor1000's prompt here. You can also read it on AO3 here.
His obsession starts, like most things for Stiles, with his mother. Specifically, his mother's jeep. Shortly after he gets it, it breaks down. The mechanic is an absolute dickhead, throwing around terms that are clearly made up just to pad the bill. That night, he starts googling, looking up terms and functions, how each one thing with one another. As much as it pains him to admit, google only takes him so far. It's surprisingly easy to get his dad to sign up for an auto repair class at the community college.
The first time he changes his own oil, Stiles does a celebratory dance. It's one he repeats every time his repairs work until he's regularly working on his own car then his friends' cars and then their parents' cars until, suddenly, he's lucked into a career fixing cars. The day a Stingray Corvette pulls up in front of his shop (his and isn't that a kick every time he sees the sign that says Stilinski's), he does that same celebratory dance. The guy is so happy with the work that an influx of classic cars comes his way. Soon enough, he has so much business that he has to limit it to the classics.
He's pouring over his books, after close, when he hears a godawful racket coming from in front of his garage doors. Stilinski's might be successful but he's not successful enough to turn down business, even if it shows up at his doors this late. He makes his way outside. "Can I help you?"
The darkness hides a lot of the details of the man standing by the driver's door. Stiles can tell the guy is built like a brick shithouse, probably with abs that Stiles would love to get his tongue against. "Looking for Stilinski."
"You got him."
"Look, kid, I'm sure you're good with oil changes. This car needs more than that. Where's your father?"
"Uh, probably patrolling. He's the Sheriff. You want the Stilinski that knows about cars, you're stuck with me. No skin off my nose if you don't want me. Guy two towns over isn't awful but he charges an arm and a leg. Want some directions or you want to start over?"
There's no response from him but Stiles steps forward anyway, admiring the '64 Aston Martin, with its sleek lines, rusting paint and troubled engine.
"This is one helluva car. You see Skyfall? Daniel Craig looked hella hot in it but then again, so did Sean Connery. I hope you didn't pay more than three-hundred k for it, not from the musical number it played when you pulled up."
When he looks up from fondling the car (he's comfortable enough in his sexuality to admit that there's a lot of fondling going on), he can see that Daniel Craig isn't the only hot thing driving around in this car. " I can't wait to get my hands on her. I'll make her purr. You'll be embarrassed you're being such a douchebag about my age and skills. Don't worry, I'll forgive you eventually. Might need you to buy me a coffee or something first, though." Another brush along the lines of the car and Stiles's brain catches up. "You're Derek Hale."
"I paid four hundred thousand for it."
"Huh, well, you got robbed but I'll make her sing for you." Stiles rubs the car once more, noticing the cracks in the window trim. "You want just engine work or the whole she-bang?"
"Are you this inappropriate with all the cars that come through your doors or is mine something special?"
"Jealous? Don't be, your car's the only one for me. His flirtatious purring accompanies one more brush along the car before he reaches for the keys. "Leave her with me, I'll be so good to her."
"I'll wait to see what this is going to cost me." Derek hands over the keys, fingers brushing Stiles's palm. There's a tingle there that has nothing to do with the car and everything to do with how gorgeous Derek Freaking Hale is. Yesterday, if anyone had told him that he'd forget about the chance to work on a '64 Aston Martin because someone was staring at him, Stiles would've thought the person crazy but here he is, mesmerized by the intense stare leveled on him. He's leaning forward, into Derek's personal space, when his cell chirps at him, pulling him back to reality.
Under the car, he forgets about Derek, forgets about everything but the amazing piece of machinery he has the privilege to work on. There's no way he's letting Derek take this car anywhere else. The Aston Martin and him are meant to be. So lost in the car, hours or minutes could've gone by when Derek knocks on the side of the car, causing Stiles to bang his head.
"You about done?"
"Cars like this, you can't rush the trust. You have to coax her into telling her secrets. Leave us alone, we're communing." Stiles reaches a hand out from under the car and makes a shooing gesture. Derek doesn't shoo. He hovers so Stiles starts talking, detailing everything that he's doing until they're both leaning over the hood. Before he knows it, Derek's lost his overshirt, leaving him in a wifebeater that emphasizes the abs that Stiles knew were lurking under that grumpy exterior.
"Look, Derek, I solemnly swear that your baby is in good hands with me." Stiles rubs his hand down the quarterpanel once more.
"You're not like that guy on tv, are you?" Derek's got an eyebrow cocked. It takes Stiles an embarrassingly long moment before he gets the joke. Would wonders never cease, the guy's got jokes. There's no way he's shaking loose of Stiles at this rate. Sarcastic, good-looking guys are Stiles's kryptonite. "Get me an estimate and she's yours."
It's the start of a beautiful relationship. Just Stiles, the Aston Martin and one Derek Hale (even if he doesn't know it yet).
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Warnings: Mechanic!AU
Summary: Couple a classic car with a sexy man and Stiles Stilinski certainly doesn't mind staying a little late at his garage. Derek Hale doesn't know what he's getting into.
A/N: Betaed by intobedlam and elanorofcastile. Written for picfor1000's prompt here. You can also read it on AO3 here.
His obsession starts, like most things for Stiles, with his mother. Specifically, his mother's jeep. Shortly after he gets it, it breaks down. The mechanic is an absolute dickhead, throwing around terms that are clearly made up just to pad the bill. That night, he starts googling, looking up terms and functions, how each one thing with one another. As much as it pains him to admit, google only takes him so far. It's surprisingly easy to get his dad to sign up for an auto repair class at the community college.
The first time he changes his own oil, Stiles does a celebratory dance. It's one he repeats every time his repairs work until he's regularly working on his own car then his friends' cars and then their parents' cars until, suddenly, he's lucked into a career fixing cars. The day a Stingray Corvette pulls up in front of his shop (his and isn't that a kick every time he sees the sign that says Stilinski's), he does that same celebratory dance. The guy is so happy with the work that an influx of classic cars comes his way. Soon enough, he has so much business that he has to limit it to the classics.
He's pouring over his books, after close, when he hears a godawful racket coming from in front of his garage doors. Stilinski's might be successful but he's not successful enough to turn down business, even if it shows up at his doors this late. He makes his way outside. "Can I help you?"
The darkness hides a lot of the details of the man standing by the driver's door. Stiles can tell the guy is built like a brick shithouse, probably with abs that Stiles would love to get his tongue against. "Looking for Stilinski."
"You got him."
"Look, kid, I'm sure you're good with oil changes. This car needs more than that. Where's your father?"
"Uh, probably patrolling. He's the Sheriff. You want the Stilinski that knows about cars, you're stuck with me. No skin off my nose if you don't want me. Guy two towns over isn't awful but he charges an arm and a leg. Want some directions or you want to start over?"
There's no response from him but Stiles steps forward anyway, admiring the '64 Aston Martin, with its sleek lines, rusting paint and troubled engine.
"This is one helluva car. You see Skyfall? Daniel Craig looked hella hot in it but then again, so did Sean Connery. I hope you didn't pay more than three-hundred k for it, not from the musical number it played when you pulled up."
When he looks up from fondling the car (he's comfortable enough in his sexuality to admit that there's a lot of fondling going on), he can see that Daniel Craig isn't the only hot thing driving around in this car. " I can't wait to get my hands on her. I'll make her purr. You'll be embarrassed you're being such a douchebag about my age and skills. Don't worry, I'll forgive you eventually. Might need you to buy me a coffee or something first, though." Another brush along the lines of the car and Stiles's brain catches up. "You're Derek Hale."
"I paid four hundred thousand for it."
"Huh, well, you got robbed but I'll make her sing for you." Stiles rubs the car once more, noticing the cracks in the window trim. "You want just engine work or the whole she-bang?"
"Are you this inappropriate with all the cars that come through your doors or is mine something special?"
"Jealous? Don't be, your car's the only one for me. His flirtatious purring accompanies one more brush along the car before he reaches for the keys. "Leave her with me, I'll be so good to her."
"I'll wait to see what this is going to cost me." Derek hands over the keys, fingers brushing Stiles's palm. There's a tingle there that has nothing to do with the car and everything to do with how gorgeous Derek Freaking Hale is. Yesterday, if anyone had told him that he'd forget about the chance to work on a '64 Aston Martin because someone was staring at him, Stiles would've thought the person crazy but here he is, mesmerized by the intense stare leveled on him. He's leaning forward, into Derek's personal space, when his cell chirps at him, pulling him back to reality.
Under the car, he forgets about Derek, forgets about everything but the amazing piece of machinery he has the privilege to work on. There's no way he's letting Derek take this car anywhere else. The Aston Martin and him are meant to be. So lost in the car, hours or minutes could've gone by when Derek knocks on the side of the car, causing Stiles to bang his head.
"You about done?"
"Cars like this, you can't rush the trust. You have to coax her into telling her secrets. Leave us alone, we're communing." Stiles reaches a hand out from under the car and makes a shooing gesture. Derek doesn't shoo. He hovers so Stiles starts talking, detailing everything that he's doing until they're both leaning over the hood. Before he knows it, Derek's lost his overshirt, leaving him in a wifebeater that emphasizes the abs that Stiles knew were lurking under that grumpy exterior.
"Look, Derek, I solemnly swear that your baby is in good hands with me." Stiles rubs his hand down the quarterpanel once more.
"You're not like that guy on tv, are you?" Derek's got an eyebrow cocked. It takes Stiles an embarrassingly long moment before he gets the joke. Would wonders never cease, the guy's got jokes. There's no way he's shaking loose of Stiles at this rate. Sarcastic, good-looking guys are Stiles's kryptonite. "Get me an estimate and she's yours."
It's the start of a beautiful relationship. Just Stiles, the Aston Martin and one Derek Hale (even if he doesn't know it yet).