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dydia · 8 years

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I Love A Rainy Night

Week 13’s prompt for the 52 Short Stories in 52 Weeks was:

A story that takes place entirely inside a vehicle.

This is a very late birthday present for @bistiles and @fuchswrites! You two are absolutely amazing and I hope you both know how much I appreciate you. Also hope you enjoy this ridiculous little fic.

Ship: Derek/Stiles Tags: future fic, getting together, swearing, a lil’ bit of scott appreciation Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Scott McCall, pack mentions Rating: Teen & Up Words: 2.2K

{also on AO3}

It’s raining. That’s the first issue that Stiles has. The rest of California is going through a god awful drought, but as soon as he crosses the Beacon County line it starts pouring. Bad things happen in the rain okay? It’s hard to see, and Scott says it makes it harder to smell, and really Stiles just hates being wet. It’s just the worst.

The second problem is Derek Hale.

It’s always Derek Hale honestly. He’s always getting kidnapped, always glaring, always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time with too much murder eyebrows for anyone to think it might be a joke (unlike Stiles, who has perfected the wrong thing - wrong time - I’m just a human please don’t hurt me shtick). And of course Derek has to call Stiles in the middle of a rainstorm for help.

Well, technically, Stiles informed the entire pack that he was on problem solving duty while Scott and his mom took a trip down to Mexico to visit extended family. It’s been years since the constant nonsense that was high school, but Scott still functions as Mr. Fix-It for the majority of the pack, and he deserves a vacation. So Stiles had taken it upon himself to redirect all calls for assistance to well, himself. Obviously Derek Fucking Hale would be the only one to take him up on it.

In the middle of a date no less.

And fucking Derek fucking knew he was on a date okay. He had liked the picture he put on Instagram proclaiming himself “date ready”. He had added a picture of his beer to his snapchat story. Derek is addicted to snapchat and also a creeper who stalks the pack on social media. He had to know. No excuses.

Except apparently Derek thought it was a grand idea to decide to try and track down some scent he came across while jogging out in the preserve. Because obviously the best time to try and pull a stunt like this is while Stiles is on a date!

The steering wheel creaks beneath Stiles’ hands as he growls at the rain speckled windshield. The worst part of this whole thing is that he would do anything for Derek. He’s not even really that mad about having to cut his date short, because spending five minutes with Derek lights him up more than three hours with some random person who just wants to fuck. Derek’s grumpy and a smart ass and the most annoying person on the planet, but Stiles can’t stop thinking about him. He wishes he could say this was a new thing, or even that it started when Derek came back from his world tour with Braeden, but no. Oh no. This has been going on since the beginning, since Derek decided to hide out in his bedroom and look at him with so much disdain that Stiles couldn’t help but become obsessed. He likes to think he hides it well, he’s pretty sure only Scott and Lydia know about this whole disaster waiting to happen. And Malia. And Mason. And probably Liam. Which whatever, as long as Derek doesn’t know, everything’s good.

Because Derek knowing would mean Derek acting weird, and not talking to Stiles, not teasing him, probably shutting himself out like he tends to do instead of actually dealing with emotions. Stiles will do anything to keep the light hearted banter they have now, even if that means living with his unrequited crush for eternity. He’s still hoping that Derek will suddenly just turn ugly and unfunny and make Stiles’ live a gazillion times easier. Maybe someday.

There’s movement on the side of the road and Stiles squawks, slamming on the brakes anyways. It’s sad really, that he isn’t all that surprised when a figure steps into his headlights, revealing themselves as a sopping wet, extremely miserable, Derek Hale. Stiles cranks down the window, huffing at the rain that starts to slant inside.

“Get in the car asshole.” He rolls the window up before Derek can respond, watching with mild satisfaction as Derek sighs and moves towards the passenger side. He’s moving slower than usual, shoulders slumped like he’s dejected or something. It’s odd, but Stiles chooses to focus on faking indignation instead. He can’t have Derek knowing that he was more than happy to ditch his date in order to pick up a soaked werewolf that might smell slightly like wet dog.

“Next time you take off in a rainstorm, I’m calling animal control,” Stiles smirks as Derek climbs into the front seat, dark hair plastered to his forehead and t-shirt clinging in a terribly distracting fashion.

“Dog jokes, how original.” Derek snaps the door shut with a little more forces than necessary, big arms crossing across his chest. Stiles narrows his eyes as he jams the Jeep into gear, continuing down the road towards Derek’s house.

“No need to be pissy with me dude, I’m fucking here aren’t I?” Derek continues to stare sullenly through the windshield, raindrops clinging to his lashes and the tip of his nose. It’s absurd, but beautiful, and Stiles hates the whole thing just a little bit. “I could be getting my dick sucked right now, and instead I’m picking your ass up on the side of the road, try not to be such a jackass. Fuck.”

Derek’s jaw ticks but he doesn’t say anything further, his brows dipping impossibly lower over his nose. Stiles huffs and curls his fingers around the steering wheel, trying to control the way his blood is starting to boil. All he wants is a reaction, is for Derek to swear and yell at him, to tell him to stop being selfish, to flip out and demand to be let out of the car. Instead he gets this pouting, non-reaction, as if Derek doesn’t care that Stiles might have a life outside of werewolf bullshit. It’s just not fair, that even if Derek hadn’t called, Stiles would probably still be imagining him in place of poor Billy who he ditched at the bar. It’s not fair to any of them really.

After a moment Stiles sighs, his fingers loosening marginally around the wheel. “Whatever.” He reaches for the radio and turns it up, refusing to react when Taylor Swift starts blaring through the speakers. T-Swift is his girl alright? And she can sing, leave him alone. Derek’s gaze is heavy on the side of his face, but Stiles ignores it, navigating his way around the potholes he’s memorized the location of.

The road to Derek’s new house is slightly sketchy, which is fitting, since Derek can’t seem to live anywhere that doesn’t have a slight creep factor. Stiles is used to it by now, though the road is awfully dark so late at night without the moon or stars overhead. He kind of zones out, focusing on driving and the songs on the radio and not looking at Derek. They’re about two minutes out when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye, head whipping around to gape at Derek.

“What is this?” He stares as Derek continues to pull off his shirt, body impressive as ever as every muscle ripples. Stiles looks quickly away, cracking his window slightly in an attempt to cool down his flaming cheeks. Over the years he’s learned how to conceal lies, learned how to fake his death and take down a werewolf with a single blow, but hiding his body’s reactions around desire remains impossible. “Seriously dude? We’re like five seconds away from your house. I know you’re allergic to clothing and everything but come on.”

“I’m soaking wet and you’re blasting the air conditioning,” Derek growls, tossing the shirt into the backseat where it lands with a wet slap. “My body wasn’t reacting well.”

“Well neither is mine.” Stiles snaps his mouth shut, face flushing with regret and embarrassment. Derek remains oddly silent, but when Stiles chances a glance at him his eyes are dark and warm, molten maybe. “What? What’s happening? Why are you looking at me with this…face?” He waves a hand in Derek’s direction, heart skipping erratically in his chest. “You know - you have to know - this isn’t like - can we just not - oh my god I can’t believe this is happening right now.” He sighs, perking up when the warm light on Derek’s front porch comes into view. “Oh look, we’re here. Pleasure as always Derek, have a great night, hope I didn’t cut into your scheduled brooding time.” Stiles shoots Derek a cheery smirk and two fingered salute, but Derek doesn’t move.

Instead he frowns, looking almost vulnerable. It’s enough to make Stiles want to crumple, want to tug him into a hug for no reason except to make him feel safe. Of course the whole shirtless thing would be an obstacle, but Stiles is sure he could be a fucking gentleman and overcome it.

“Stiles,” Derek swallows hard, his eyes trained somewhere on the center console. “I’m sorry I… sorry I interrupted your date.”

Great. Now Stiles feels bad for making Derek feel bad, and that is exactly the opposite of what is supposed to be happening here.

“It’s alright man,” Stiles lifts his hand to pat him on the shoulder, but hesitates, the idea of all that bare skin beneath his palm too thrilling to follow through with. “I’d rather be with you anyways.”

A silence settles over them, broken only by the Stiles’ all too steady heartbeat and the soft sound of One Direction in the background. Stiles replays the words in his head but can’t quite bring himself to regret them, not when Derek’s looking up at him through his lashes like he can’t quite believe his ears.

“Really?” Derek’s voice is so small that Stiles’ heart breaks just a bit, and his restraint snaps.

“Obviously,” he smiles as he curls his hand around Derek’s broad shoulder, rubbing his thumb against the jut of his collarbone. “You’re like, my favorite.”

This time Derek smiles, and Stiles doesn’t even bother trying to hide the way his pulse quickens.

“What about Scott?”

“Well besides Scott, Scott’s everyone's favorite,” Stiles finds himself grinning as Derek leans into his touch, one of his big hands settling down on Stiles’ jittery thigh. “Get with the program big guy.”

“You’re my favorite too,” Derek says around a smirk, mouth lifting in the corner as Stiles’ entire body stills. “After Scott.”

“Well uh,” Stiles swallows as Derek’s fingers press against the inseam of his jeans, slowly creeping up his thigh. “He is the alpha so-”

“Don’t really wanna kiss him though.” Derek’s eyes are doing that thing, where they are so, so focused and this time for the first time he’s focused on Stiles and he’s pretty sure he’s already half hard because this look is probably enough to impregnate people.

“But you wanna kiss me?” Stiles calms himself enough to widen his eyes and part his lips just slightly, sending Derek the most coy look he can muster. It must work, because Derek swears under his breath and closes the distance between them, fingers soft and cool and they cup his cheek.

His kisses aren’t quite as forceful as Stiles always imagined, instead they’re careful, gentle, the softest caress of lips and tongue. Stiles sighs and pulls him closer, sliding his hands across the broad expanse of Derek’s back, tracing each muscle with the pads of his fingers.

“There was no scent in the woods,” Derek admits against Stiles’ lips, lashes tickling his cheek as his eyes slip closed. “I was just mad that you were on a date, and it wasn’t with me.”

“Dude.” Stiles laughs and kisses him again, hissing when his knees jam against the dashboard. Derek tastes like rain and coffee, tastes like Stiles might want to kiss him forever. “I’m like, so in love with you, you have no idea.”

“Really?”

“Really. Just ask Scott. He hears about it like once a week. Maybe once a day. Or an hour. It’s pretty bad Der.”

This time Derek laughs, his whole body vibrating with it. Stiles wants to make him do it again, wants to keep making Derek laugh for the rest of his life.

“Can we stop talking about Scott now?” Derek smirks as he untangles himself from Stiles’ limbs and grabs his shirt out of the back seat. “It’s getting kind of weird, and I’d really like to go inside and put on dry clothes.”

Stiles watches, almost numb, as Derek climbs all too gracefully out of the Jeep. The way he moves is mesmerizing, all long lines and planned movements, like if he steps wrong the world might shatter.

“Are you going to stare at me all night or are you going to come inside?”

Stiles blinks back into focus to find Derek smirking at him, raining drops clinging to the hair on his chest.

He’s never scrambled out of the Jeep faster in his life.

#sterek #eternalsterek #bistiles #fuchswrites #mine:fic #mine:sterek #52 in 52 #13/52 #1/4 of the way done!!!#my writing #this is such a ridiculous fic #i can't even help myself

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