
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/648803.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, Blanket_Permission
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-01-21 Words: 2088
****** Hospitality ******
by spuffyduds
Summary
     Written to the specifications of Torra, who requested "fic about
     Derek failing at laundry, leading to Stiles helping and sexy times."
Notes
     I have only seen up to Season Two Episode 7 at this point, so I
     apologize for any lack of up-to-datedness.
Stiles is a little distracted coming out of the comic shop--he's riffling
through his bag, happy that his pull list was pretty heavy this week. He's
making plans to hit the Waffle House and indulge in hashbrowns and X-Men at the
same time, which sounds like heaven after a couple of weeks of extreme
supernatural stresses.
So he walks by the window without quite registering what he saw, and has to
stop, step back and verify that yes, that was Derek in a laundromat.
Stiles just stands there gaping for a moment, because that's just so--it's like
bumping into Magneto buying broccoli, or something.
And the last thing he needs is more supernatural stresses, and Derek hasn't
looked up and spotted him yet so he's home free, he can just walk right over to
his jeep and have a nice peaceful evening trying not to get ketchup on his
comics, that is the only sensible course of action, here, so of course he walks
into the laundromat instead.
(He really wishes he could make his dad understand that it's not like he thinks
his decision-making is good either. It's more like--he doesn't even feel like
he makes them, half the time; they just happen.)
"Hi," he says.
Derek looks up and blinks. He looks different, here, under the fluorescent
lights. Smaller, maybe.
And Stiles is used to Derek's conversational topics being, "Saw off my arm
right now," or "I am going to kill you slowly," but apparently that's different
here, too, because he looks blankly at Stiles for a moment and then says, in a
small quiet voice, "It ate my pants."
"It what? What it?" Stiles says, looking wildly around the laundromat, ceiling
included, because, jesus, what now? Pants-eating demons?
But Derek nods toward the nearest washer, and holds up a pair of jeans that
are--wow. Really shredded.
"Oh," Stiles says. "Oh, that sucks." He pokes his head in the empty washer,
feels around a little bit with his fingertips, and yeah, all the tiny drain
holes that ought to be smooth-edged are jaggedy instead. "That is a crap
washer," Stiles announces.
He pulls his head back out, and says, "My dad and me, we had to take all our
stuff to a laundromat for a couple of weeks once when our dryer broke, and
gotta tell you, the dryers were not great either. They were so hot they shrank
everything."
Derek looks bleakly at his laundry basket full of wet clothes. "I can't--I've
only got three pairs of pants," he says.
Which is how Stiles ends up with Derek in his jeep again, staring silently out
at the night. They make it about two blocks before Stiles can't stand the
silence anymore and says, "So, wasn't that sorta--public? I mean, aren't you
supposed to be keeping a low profile because of the Argents and all?"
"Yeah, well, my abandoned train car is a little short on washers and dryers."
"But I mean--can't you just skip the laundry? It seems a little...not very
creature-of-the-night."
Derek growls, and Stiles throws up his hands for a second, gives Derek an "I
surrender!" look before he gets hands and eyes back on the business of driving.
There's quiet again for a couple of minutes, Derek looking out his window
again, and then he says softly, still turned away from Stiles, "Werewolf nose."
"Huh?"
"Sensitive. I don't like to reek."
"Oh."
Stiles spends the rest of the drive wondering what the hell Derek does about
bathing, because probably the train car isn't exactly chockful of bathtubs
either, and very carefully not asking. Sometimes his decisions are good.
When they get to his house Stiles parks around back. No need for the neighbors
to see Derek.
They get his laundry into the dryer and then just...stand there in the laundry
room for a minute. Because Stiles would like to stretch out on the couch and
read his comics, but it would be rude to ignore a guest, but it's crazy to
think of a homicidal werewolf as a guest, but...
"You, uh, hungry?" Stiles says.
Stiles makes a tower of grilled-cheese sandwiches. Derek eats four.
When he's done he actually leans back in his chair, rubs at his belly a little,
which is the most relaxed Stiles has ever seen the guy. His shirt rides up some
with the rubbing, and yup, there are those abs, those are some amazing abs.
Stiles is really mostly mostly into girls but those abs are just...wow, and
he's pretty sure he's staring now, and he can't seem to stop, and now Derek is
staring at him staring, and Stiles blurts, "You wanna wash what you've got on?"
Sometimes he would really like to take his brain out and kick it.
Derek just keeps looking at him, and Stiles finally manages, "You said you only
had three pairs of pants, and since the washer ate one you've only got one
clean pair left, right? Math."
"Math," Derek says flatly.
"Yeah."
Derek stands up and peels his shirt off, and then, oh, wow, then he's going for
his jeans button, and Stiles is certainly absolutely going to tell him he
didn't mean it like that any second now, except he doesn't, and he doesn't some
more, and by the time he finishes not saying any of that stuff he meant to say
Derek is standing in his kitchen in boxer shorts.
Those abs are...they are still happening.
Derek keeps looking at Stiles while he picks up his clothes. Derek's breathing
is fast and loud. Stiles thinks maybe his is too.
For a really long few seconds then Derek's just standing there with his clothes
in his arms, and Stiles is staring at him, and it wasn't just the buzzing
fluorescent laundromat lights, Derek looks a little smaller here too, a little
less terrifying than usual. Maybe it's because he's almost naked, maybe it's
because it's hard to be too scared of someone you just cooked for.
Stiles steps forward to take the pile of clothes, and the back of his hand
brushes against Derek's chest, and the skin is so hot there, god, and Stiles'
brain just goes offline completely.
"Uhhhhhnnnnnnnh," he says.
Derek leans, really really slowly, closes that couple of inches between them at
the rate of approximately forever, and when their lips meet Derek moans too.
Stiles tenses up at the moan, because that's going to turn into a growl, right?
And then it's going to turn into a howl and then Derek's going to leap on him
and then it's going to be some kind of bloodbath because that's probably how
werewolves--mate, right?
But nothing like that happens. What happens is Derek kisses him ridiculously
softly, just the lightest brush of lips, not even any tongue.
And then pulls back, and looks at Stiles.
And Stiles growls. And leaps on him.
Derek carries him up the stairs with Stiles' legs wrapped around his waist,
almost runs up the stairs like Stiles weighs nothing at all.
Derek tosses him on his bed, and wow, okay, here is where things are getting a
little fast and rough and werewolfy, because now Derek is yanking Stiles'
clothes off. His shoes get flung into corners, and his t-shirt almost takes his
ears off with it when Derek jerks it over his head, and he's not sure his jeans
zipper survives the tugging-down-his-legs process.
Weirdly, this is not making Stiles terrified. What it is making him is hard.
When Stiles is fully stripped Derek pulls his own boxers off, and Stiles bites
his lip at the sight of--everything, all of Derek all at once, his thigh
muscles and tight dark nipples and open panting mouth and his cock, wow, that's
just--
"Beautiful, man, you are so beautiful, Jesus, unbelievable, how do you--do you
have a gym set up in that train car, how do you--"
Derek climbs on top of Stiles and kisses him, with tongue this time, and Stiles
shuts up because his mouth is full, but also because he doesn't want to talk,
he wants to kiss, and Derek tastes like grilled cheese which Stiles always
liked before but now it is the best taste in the universe ever because it comes
with Derek's cock rubbing against his.
"Oh god," Stiles says, and Derek gets a hand between them, wraps it around both
of them and squeezes and pulls, just gets right into a hard fast rhythm and
Stiles says, "Whoa, wait, I can't--" but it's too late, he's already coming.
He's gasping and his cock is jerking and pulsing and when he's done dying of
pleasure he's going to die of embarrassment, because that was way too fast, but
god, god he couldn't help it.
Derek doesn't seem to mind, though, Derek is moaning into Stiles' ear and
holding onto Stiles' shoulder hard with his free hand and rocking against him.
Stiles shivers and comes a little more, one last pulse, and then his whole body
goes into some kind of super relaxation mode; it feels like he sinks a couple
inches more into the bed.
"Wow," he says, and then Derek's cock still rubbing up against him starts to
hurt his a little, so he adds, "Ow," and Derek lets go. He kneels up and swipes
his palm across Stiles' wet stomach, wraps it around his own cock again and
just goes for it, jerking himself fast.
Stiles just watches. Derek breathes loud and ragged, the rhythm of his hand
speeding up until he makes a tiny broken noise, curls around his cock and comes
all over Stiles' stomach and chest.
He collapses beside Stiles. Stiles wipes himself off some with the sheets--he's
so gonna have to wash these. But he's not jumping up to do laundry now, because
that might make Derek feel weird about what just happened, and by the way, what
the fuck just happened?
Stiles ponders that for a minute, then decides that doesn't matter nearly as
much as making sure it happens again, so he says, "Sorry about the, uh, speed
there. Teenager and all. Flip side is I'll be ready to go again in ten minutes
or so." He waggles his eyebrows at Derek, even though he has never been able to
figure out with intensive mirror checking if that looks seductive or hilarious.
Derek gives him a tiny bit of a smile, score, but then says, "That was stupid."
"Oh," Stiles says. "Oh, yeah, right, that was--what was I thinking, that was
crazy, totally not even thinking about doing that again, no way."
"No," Derek says, "I mean--it was stupid to get upset that my pants got
destroyed. I'm training my pack for war, here, I'm trying to make sure we all
live, it's stupid to get distracted by something so tiny--I don't know what
that was about."
"I do," Stiles says.
"Oh, you do, huh?" Derek says, and now he's grinning all the way, looking at
Stiles like sure, you go ahead and tell me all about myself.
"It's because you have all this really important stuff going on. Once I--it was
about a month after my mom--well, anyway, I thought I was fine, and then I
started crying because this vending machine only had plain Combos when I really
wanted pizza-flavored Combos."
Derek stops smiling and just looks at Stiles for a while, and then says, "Huh."
"Yeah," Stiles says. He's warm and relaxed, and yeah he could go again in a few
minutes but Derek kind of ignored that suggestion so probably this was a one-
time thing, a really, really bizarre one-time thing. What the hell, that was
way better than jerking off, and maybe the next time they meet Derek will be at
least a little less likely to actually kill him, and with that comforting
thought he's alllmost dropped off to sleep when he remembers, "Hey, we gotta
get your clothes out of the dryer, my dad cannot come home to find your clothes
in the dryer and. Uh. You in my bed. Without your clothes."
"We'll get them out in a while," Derek says. "I could use some dessert."
"Man, grilled cheese is pretty much my whole repertoire," Stiles says. "I could
maybe manage some instant pudding?"
"Not what I meant," Derek says, and pulls Stiles over on top of him.
"Oh," Stiles says, and yeah, the laundry can wait.
---end---
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
