Ficlet: Mastermind of Love
Author: write_light
Title: Mastermind of Love
Rating: G
Pairing/s: Stiles/Derek
Character/s: Stiles, Peter, Lydia, Scott, Derek
Summary: Stiles wonders if he should expect a Valentine's card from Derek Hale. This soon becomes EVERYONE’s problem, but someone's got plans for Stiles. Big plans.
Warnings: none
Submission Type: ficlet
Word Count: ~960
Prompt: 57: Valentine's Day
Author's Notes: sweet and yummy like a box full of Derek-shaped candies
Stiles was starting to think all of Beacon Hills was in on this inexplicable Derek-hates-Valentines idea. He’d asked everyone, almost literally everyone who knew Derek, and they all said the same thing.
“Derek doesn’t give Valentines.”
Peter said it with such an eyeroll that Stiles doubted him for a second. But Stiles had brought the topic up, well before Valentine's Day, so Peter couldn’t be in on any plan.
Scott knew it bugged Stiles, but he was perfectly casual about it, offering honesty like a true friend.
"He just isn't like that. He doesn't show his feelings with mushy cards and stuff. You remember how he hated the Halloween party."
"I thought that was because we-"
"Hey Mom - what do you think?" Scott interrupted.
"About what, guys? I'm late," Mrs. McCall asked, grabbing her lunch from the fridge.
"Would Derek send a Valentine?"
"Derek Hale?? To who?"
Scott pointed at Stiles, who glared at him and blushed furiously.
"Look, Stiles, don’t ever set your hopes on a man sending you a card. You go and get him, kiddo. You know, when you're finished high school … and don't tell your dad I gave you that advice."
Lydia was much more thoughtful, but came to the same conclusion. Derek was not the Valentine-giving type. She listed examples of how Derek had ignored other significant days in all their lives.
"Mostly, I think he'd be allergic to fluorescent lights and supermarkets. Can you picture him, opening card after card, flinching at the musical ones, grimacing at the corny jokes?"
Stiles could picture it, and was doing so right then and there while Lydia went on and on with her reasons, getting a few things about Valentines Day off her chest, oblivious to his obliviousness.
Derek - in the card aisle at the local BuyRite, leather jacket and jeans, stubble and piercing eyes, fingers tracing row after row of … abominations. Stiles imagined a werewolf Valentine card, and Derek picked it up. He read it, stared at it as his brows narrowed down, and then ripped the card to tiny bits and dumped them down behind the other cards.
Stiles snapped back to reality, thanked Lydia, and ducked out.
***
On Valentine's Day, the Stilinski mailbox overflowed, showering the porch with cards large and small, envelopes of pink, magenta, red and white. Most had no return address.
Stiles sat on the top step to read them. Every single one he opened was signed “Derek”; he was almost in tears when he realized that he’d opened five of them already and the handwriting wasn’t matching. Within ten minutes, he’d found three distinct signatures and grouped nearly 60 cards accordingly. Only a handful remained unchecked, but it was pretty clear that something was up and his tears of joy had turned to suspicion.
Pile #1 was signed “Eternally Yours, Derek". An odd sentiment, but nice, he guessed. The handwriting was neat like Derek’s but the cards had a distinct scent on them. A distinctly girly scent that Stiles recognized from years of sitting near Lydia.
Pile #2 was less legibly scrawled with “Love Ya, Bro, Yours Derek” and Stiles had a pretty good idea who had sent them. "Bro" wasn't one of Derek's words for him.
The last pile had the longest signature: “To My Beloved Human Stiles, From Your Big Wolfie-Man Who Loves You". Stiles picked that one up and put it down a few times, it was so far beyond belief. It was in a pile all its own, that one, and thankfully so. But it was not Derek, not even close. It had all the marks of an asshole uncle, one who'd lied to Stiles. And now he was covering for Derek - they all were.
The remaining few cards were fairly plain, and didn’t proclaim joy or lust or anything else.
One was from his Dad. “Really, Dad? A Valentine's card?” He knew why. He knew his Mom had done it every year. He just thought, maybe someday it would stop. He was also glad it hadn’t. The other was for his Dad, from "M" and he put it down hurriedly. "Good start, I guess, Mrs. M."
The last one he got to was addressed to "Stiles," nothing else. No address, no stamp, so it had to have been hand-delivered. The envelope was large, made of a stiff, heavy paper that promised a quality card inside. He tore it open, enjoying the rich red-foil interior, and … nothing else.
“It’s empty!” Stiles said in frustration.
“My life without you,” said Derek from what sounded like a foot away. Stiles jumped up, stumbling on the porch step and crashing against the mailbox.
“WHAT is wrong with you?”
Derek was trying not to smile, he could tell. He was so close now Stiles could see the corner of his mouth twitching.
“An empty envelope, Derek?”
“A metaphor,” Derek offered, leaning in.
“Well I’m right here now!"
“Then be mine,” Derek said, and he pressed his lips against Stiles’.
***
When Stiles had recovered from that kiss, Derek pulled a card from his jacket, a blank card on which he'd written how he actually felt around Stiles. It ran over 100 words, all in perfect handwriting.
Stiles' lip started trembling as he read it.
"Hey,…" Derek said softly.
"I asked EVERYONE about this Valentine's thing."
"So did I," Derek replied. "I asked them if I should give you a card. They all said yes; Peter put it differently but it was his version of yes. When you started asking around, I told them to stonewall you. And to send you a mountain of cards in my name."
"You got them to-" Stiles gaped.
"So be mine?" Derek's eyebrows rose unstoppably.
Stiles nodded.
Title: Mastermind of Love
Rating: G
Pairing/s: Stiles/Derek
Character/s: Stiles, Peter, Lydia, Scott, Derek
Summary: Stiles wonders if he should expect a Valentine's card from Derek Hale. This soon becomes EVERYONE’s problem, but someone's got plans for Stiles. Big plans.
Warnings: none
Submission Type: ficlet
Word Count: ~960
Prompt: 57: Valentine's Day
Author's Notes: sweet and yummy like a box full of Derek-shaped candies
Stiles was starting to think all of Beacon Hills was in on this inexplicable Derek-hates-Valentines idea. He’d asked everyone, almost literally everyone who knew Derek, and they all said the same thing.
“Derek doesn’t give Valentines.”
Peter said it with such an eyeroll that Stiles doubted him for a second. But Stiles had brought the topic up, well before Valentine's Day, so Peter couldn’t be in on any plan.
Scott knew it bugged Stiles, but he was perfectly casual about it, offering honesty like a true friend.
"He just isn't like that. He doesn't show his feelings with mushy cards and stuff. You remember how he hated the Halloween party."
"I thought that was because we-"
"Hey Mom - what do you think?" Scott interrupted.
"About what, guys? I'm late," Mrs. McCall asked, grabbing her lunch from the fridge.
"Would Derek send a Valentine?"
"Derek Hale?? To who?"
Scott pointed at Stiles, who glared at him and blushed furiously.
"Look, Stiles, don’t ever set your hopes on a man sending you a card. You go and get him, kiddo. You know, when you're finished high school … and don't tell your dad I gave you that advice."
Lydia was much more thoughtful, but came to the same conclusion. Derek was not the Valentine-giving type. She listed examples of how Derek had ignored other significant days in all their lives.
"Mostly, I think he'd be allergic to fluorescent lights and supermarkets. Can you picture him, opening card after card, flinching at the musical ones, grimacing at the corny jokes?"
Stiles could picture it, and was doing so right then and there while Lydia went on and on with her reasons, getting a few things about Valentines Day off her chest, oblivious to his obliviousness.
Derek - in the card aisle at the local BuyRite, leather jacket and jeans, stubble and piercing eyes, fingers tracing row after row of … abominations. Stiles imagined a werewolf Valentine card, and Derek picked it up. He read it, stared at it as his brows narrowed down, and then ripped the card to tiny bits and dumped them down behind the other cards.
Stiles snapped back to reality, thanked Lydia, and ducked out.
***
On Valentine's Day, the Stilinski mailbox overflowed, showering the porch with cards large and small, envelopes of pink, magenta, red and white. Most had no return address.
Stiles sat on the top step to read them. Every single one he opened was signed “Derek”; he was almost in tears when he realized that he’d opened five of them already and the handwriting wasn’t matching. Within ten minutes, he’d found three distinct signatures and grouped nearly 60 cards accordingly. Only a handful remained unchecked, but it was pretty clear that something was up and his tears of joy had turned to suspicion.
Pile #1 was signed “Eternally Yours, Derek". An odd sentiment, but nice, he guessed. The handwriting was neat like Derek’s but the cards had a distinct scent on them. A distinctly girly scent that Stiles recognized from years of sitting near Lydia.
Pile #2 was less legibly scrawled with “Love Ya, Bro, Yours Derek” and Stiles had a pretty good idea who had sent them. "Bro" wasn't one of Derek's words for him.
The last pile had the longest signature: “To My Beloved Human Stiles, From Your Big Wolfie-Man Who Loves You". Stiles picked that one up and put it down a few times, it was so far beyond belief. It was in a pile all its own, that one, and thankfully so. But it was not Derek, not even close. It had all the marks of an asshole uncle, one who'd lied to Stiles. And now he was covering for Derek - they all were.
The remaining few cards were fairly plain, and didn’t proclaim joy or lust or anything else.
One was from his Dad. “Really, Dad? A Valentine's card?” He knew why. He knew his Mom had done it every year. He just thought, maybe someday it would stop. He was also glad it hadn’t. The other was for his Dad, from "M" and he put it down hurriedly. "Good start, I guess, Mrs. M."
The last one he got to was addressed to "Stiles," nothing else. No address, no stamp, so it had to have been hand-delivered. The envelope was large, made of a stiff, heavy paper that promised a quality card inside. He tore it open, enjoying the rich red-foil interior, and … nothing else.
“It’s empty!” Stiles said in frustration.
“My life without you,” said Derek from what sounded like a foot away. Stiles jumped up, stumbling on the porch step and crashing against the mailbox.
“WHAT is wrong with you?”
Derek was trying not to smile, he could tell. He was so close now Stiles could see the corner of his mouth twitching.
“An empty envelope, Derek?”
“A metaphor,” Derek offered, leaning in.
“Well I’m right here now!"
“Then be mine,” Derek said, and he pressed his lips against Stiles’.
***
When Stiles had recovered from that kiss, Derek pulled a card from his jacket, a blank card on which he'd written how he actually felt around Stiles. It ran over 100 words, all in perfect handwriting.
Stiles' lip started trembling as he read it.
"Hey,…" Derek said softly.
"I asked EVERYONE about this Valentine's thing."
"So did I," Derek replied. "I asked them if I should give you a card. They all said yes; Peter put it differently but it was his version of yes. When you started asking around, I told them to stonewall you. And to send you a mountain of cards in my name."
"You got them to-" Stiles gaped.
"So be mine?" Derek's eyebrows rose unstoppably.
Stiles nodded.