#*soap walking into his bedroom to find a grown ass cow* *soap immediately walking back out* “i aint cleanin that up”

[losersimonriley]

Regarding the post about Ghost and pets.

Imagine the two retire in the country highlands. Ghost wasn’t keen on getting hens at first because he doesn’t know how to raise them.

Soap convinces him that he'll show him how. And at first, Ghost only does the tasks. The hens don’t wanna be held, just fed.

But then a neighbor comes to them with a chick explaining that they're running out of room and know Soap only has two. Soap is iffy at first and tries to politely decline because then they'd have to buy more feed.

But eventually, they accept. And holy hell does Ghost try to sneak the baby inside whenever he can.

"It'll get cold, Johnny. Its raining." Is his favorite excuse. Soap just stares and says a soft "Unless you're gonna clean its shite off the floor—" and the chick is already being put back outside.

OHHHH MY GOD I will never not love ghoap + farm animals. my god. @forestshadow-ghoap are you seeing this

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @pseudoapollonian!

I loved all of your pack feels and I hope you enjoy this little fic ♥

Read on AO3

*****

Grown from ashes

Stiles’ heart raced as he slid around a corner and thundered down the stairs. His ears rang with the cackling laughter of his pursuer. Grabbing the banister, he leapt up and over, bypassing the rest of the stairs. It was good to see that his training with Argent was paying off.

The door was in sight, Stiles just had to make it outside. His magic was stronger in the open air. But then his foot caught on a loose tarp and he went flying. Using his moment of helplessness, his pursuer tackled him to the ground, pinning him.

Stiles let out a very manly shriek as something cold and slimy trailed over the back of his neck. He struggled against his captor, but was only rewarded with more laughter.

“What is going on here?”

Stiles froze, looking up to see Derek framed in the doorway. Unperturbed, Erica continued smearing yellow paint across every bit of exposed skin she could reach. The rest of the pack trickled out of the rooms they were working on, still holding their paint brushes and rollers.

Derek sighed, then walked over and hauled Erica off of her perch on Stiles’ lower back. She pouted a little, but didn’t say anything.

“You are adults!” Derek said, but he sounded resigned. “I should be able to leave you unsupervised for an hour.”

He probably would have said more, but he was interrupted by paint splattering across his cheek. Kira quickly shoved her incriminating brush at Boyd, who automatically caught it. Derek jerked around and Kira smiled innocently. That is until Boyd wiped his now paint covered hand over the bare skin of her shoulder.

That was all it took to turn the situation into a brawl. Stiles sat up slowly, scooting back to lean against the wall. He was still winded from his run-in with Erica and he knew better than to get in the middle of a werewolf/coyote/kitsune rumble. Plus he was unarmed.

“Paint fight!” Scott yelled from the upstairs bathroom. Brush in hand, he launched himself from the balcony and into the fray, taking out Isaac and Malia.

Stiles laughed at the sight. In the kitchen, Boyd chased Kira around the island, paint dripping from his head over his ears. She ducked and wove with the grace of a fox, but was helpless against the paint tray he upended over her.

Derek was trapped under Erica and Cora who were taking turns painting stripes across his shoulders and down his captive arms. Even though he was the alpha, he made no move to overpower them. Just pressed his cheek against the tarp and accepted his fate.

A piercing whistle shattered the chaos. Stiles could feel the smile drop from his face, replaced by a look of sheepishness.

“Hey Sheriff,” Isaac said, letting go of Scott.

His dad took in the mess. “Well. I guess it’s a good thing we had tarps down.”

Melissa stepped in behind him, eyes widening at the sight. “Everyone outside. Now.”

Properly cowed, the pack got up and shuffled toward the outdoor showers. They were intended for use after full moon runs. Or for washing off monster guts before going inside the house.

Stiles was the last one out, stopping in front of his dad. “Hey daddio.”

“Don’t try to tell me that you didn’t start this.” His dad had that look in his eye, like he was trying to be a good parent by staying stern and not laughing.

Stiles winced. “It wasn’t totally my fault.”

His dad rolled his eyes. “Go clean up. Mel and I brought food and Allison and Lydia should be here soon with dessert.”

With that his dad shut the door, leaving him no choice but to go rinse off. The air outside was chilly and stepping under the lukewarm spray didn’t help.

Erica turned from the showerhead next to him. “I got carried away. I’m sorry.”

Stiles immediately shook his head. “That mess was not your fault. We should’ve know better than to try and paint during full moon week.”

Plus anything was worth seeing his boyfriend laugh and smile. Stiles watched as Isaac tried to help Derek rinse away the paint he couldn’t reach. The shades of blue and yellow had mixed, staining Derek’s skin an alarming shade of green.

Erica followed his gaze and smirked. “We’ll be out of your hair soon, lover boy.” Then she tugged Boyd under the water with her, gently clearing the paint from his ears.

Stiles sighed and scrubbed at the paint caked along his hair line. There was no way he was getting it all off without soap and a washcloth, so he settled for doing a half-assed job. When his teeth started chattering, he called it quits and followed Kira into the walkout basement.

Luckily the pack room was already finished and equipped with clothes for moments like this. Kira rummaged through one of the drawers along the wall, chucking a pair of sweatpants at his head. Stiles caught them and smiled at the Beacon Hills Basketball logo. These were definitely Derek’s coaching pants.

Kira was dressed before Stiles had even finished rubbing an old towel over his hair.

“Leave some food for the rest of us,” he called after her.

Her laugh echoed down the stairs. “No promises.”

Pulling on the sweatpants, Stiles let himself fall into nostalgia. The pack had come a long way since their rocky beginnings. Back in those days, he barely believed he was going to survive high school, let alone finish college and start building a house with the love of his life.

Strong arms wrapped around him from behind. Stiles slumped back, tipping his head to the side so Derek could nose at the damp hair behind his ear.

“Allison and Lydia just parked,” Derek said, breath fanning across Stiles’ neck.

Stiles shivered, soaking up Derek’s warmth for a little longer. “I suppose we should go see them.”

They made it upstairs in time to say goodbye to his dad and Melissa, who were both on night shifts for the week. The rest of the evening passed in a flurry of pizza, Chinese takeout, and snickerdoodle cookies.

There were no chairs yet, so Stiles hopped up onto the counter with Derek leaning beside him. Scott and Kira sprawled out on the floor, stealing food from each other’s plates. In the living room, Isaac and Cora were snarking back and forth over which fictional characters would win in a duel. Malia, Boyd, Erica, and Allison sat in a circle nearby discussing Allison’s chances of making the Olympic archery team.

“It looks like you all had an enjoyable afternoon,” Lydia said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss Derek’s cheek. At first their friendship had surprised Stiles, but the more Derek told him about Laura the more it made sense.

Derek smiled down at her. “Congratulations on the postdoc position. Do you think you’ll take it?”

“Yeah.” Lydia’s eyes strayed toward Allison. “Berkley is much closer than MIT. It will be good to be back home.”

Stiles dropped his head to Derek’s shoulder, letting the sound of their voices lull him into a food coma. At least until there was a crash of falling paint cans from the living room. Stiles jumped off the counter to investigate. Somehow, Erica and Isaac ended up in a wrestling match with Cora and Boyd acting as referees. Which meant it was time for the pack to go home.

“Alright. Everybody out!” Stiles yelled, herding the group toward the door.

There were a few grumbles of dissent, mainly from Scott, but there really wasn’t much to do in the house yet. They still had to get furniture and a TV at least. Then they could have proper pack nights.

Once the last stragglers were on the way to their cars, Stiles found Derek in the kitchen tackling the mountain of dishes. He dropped a kiss to Derek’s shoulder, smiling a little at the smudge of yellow along his jaw. Erica’s work, for sure.

“Let’s go get cleaned up.”

Derek sighed, leaning into him for another moment. “Okay.”

Their room was the only one in the house that was already finished. And Stiles was so grateful he no longer had to live in his father’s house. Not that he didn’t love his dad, but sometimes he needed quiet alone time with his boyfriend. Like right now.

Linking their fingers, he pulled Derek away from the sink.

“The dishes will still be there tomorrow.”

Derek went along willingly, following Stiles up the stairs and into their bedroom. With a well-placed kick, Stiles closed the door behind them and started stripping out of his clothes. The dried paint itched and pulled at his skin.

He looked up to find Derek watching him, still fully dressed. Rolling his eyes, he tugged at the hem of Derek’s shirt.

“Are you going to shower with your clothes on? Because no offense, but you still kinda look like the Hulk.” Stiles picked at a bit of green still clinging to Derek’s arm hair.

Derek huffed. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Green looks good on you.” Stiles said, then kissed him soundly and headed for the bathroom.

By the time the water reached a perfect temperature, Derek was slipping in behind him. He picked up the shampoo bottle and proceeded to work a lather through Stiles’ hair. The feeling of strong fingers massaging his scalp turned Stiles boneless.

He hummed as Derek scrubbed at the back of his neck with a cloth, getting rid of the last traces of paint. But when he reached for the soap, Derek smacked his hand away.

“Nope. You’ve done enough today. Just relax.”

Stiles wanted to argue, but he knew Derek was probably right. His boyfriend seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to him overdoing it. So he breathed in the warm steam and closed his eyes as Derek washed himself and shampooed his hair.

He must have nodded off because only seconds later, the water was gone and Derek was rubbing him down with one of their fluffy towels. Then they were stumbling to bed, Derek curling up behind him and slinging an arm over his waist. Stiles smiled sleepily and craned his neck for a kiss.

“Deaton and I put up the wards this morning,” he said into the pillow.

Derek spread his hand over Stiles’ stomach and pressed a kiss to his neck. “I knew you were more tired than usual.”

“It was worth it.” Stiles settled into the curve of Derek’s body. “I want to live here forever.”

He could feel Derek’s smile against the back of his head.

“I love you.”

Stiles folded his hand over the one on his stomach. “I love you too.”