title: restless, the prompt
length: 616 words
rating: g, i suppose
warning: confident!Stiles :)
pairing: stiles stilinski/derek hale
summary: Stiles is ready to sleep in the porch of Derek's house to get what he wants
‘I won’t go anywhere, Derek.’
The werewolf’s scowl is so dark it almost paralyzes Stiles. But this time – this time he is going to be strong.
‘Get – the hell – out of here – Stiles,’ the twenty-four years old replies between gritted teeth.
Then he simply walks away, and goes back inside his house, slamming the door behind him. Stiles stares at it for a while, expecting Derek to come out to be sure Stiles is gone. But no, because Derek freaking Hale is so damn sure he is so convincing and so intimidating that he was not going to.
Well, he certainly would get a pleasant surprise when going out the next morning.
Derek finds Stiles lying in the porch, saliva dripping out of his mouth, half of his body hanging in the stairs. The wolf gives a kick in his side, startling him. The boy looks up, his eyes still glazed after his less than good night of sleep in the cold, on the hard wood. He stands up so quickly Derek doubts he was really asleep. Stiles wipes away the saliva, and stares at Derek. He needs to stop acting so confident, it’s getting on my nerves.
‘Didn’t I tell you to get the hell out of here?’
‘Didn’t I tell you I wouldn’t go anywhere?’
Derek is completely stunned by the bold reply. There’s a weird feeling in his guts.
‘Go home, Stiles, before I kick you in the face.’
Stiles simply smiles. He does that a lot. God, it’s annoying.
‘You can keep menacing me Derek. I won’t be leaving until I get what I want.’
The Alpha’s eyebrows lift up, and he watches as the kid goes back to sitting on the porch. A sigh escapes his mouth, and before walking up to his car, he says:
‘You better be gone when I come back.’
‘You got it!’ Stiles replies with a grin all over his stupid, irritating face.
When the lights of Derek’s car struck him in the face when the evening is finally here, Stiles gets up quickly, shakes away the dirt off his jeans and stands still, waiting. He hears a distinctive growl, and not even turning off his car, Derek furiously walks up to the seventeen year old, grabs him by his collar and pulls him way too close for both their goods.
‘What – did I tell you?!’
There is a smirk on Stiles lips, and he thinks that Derek probably wants to punch him.
‘Give me what I want and I’ll leave, sour wolf.’
Derek’s throat is burning. He wants to scream in the face of this stupid, stupid little boy. But he does not, because he apparently doesn’t want to.
‘I do not know what you want! You better cut the crap, or I swear I will –’
It’s another blow in the guts, and Derek doesn’t think he can stand it any longer.
‘W – What?’
‘Make me,’ says Stiles, not losing an ounce of his confidence. ‘Make – me – stop.’
All of a sudden, Derek grips his face tight between his large hands, and presses his lips to his. He tastes of mint, and it is a hard kiss, almost painful, but it lingers, and it feels so good. Derek’s lips seem to soften then, and his hands move down to Stiles’ lower-back. Their lips part at the same time, and they discover more of each other. Now it’s tender and soft and sweet, and Stiles thinks that there is nothing like risky maneuvers and self-confidence to get what you want.
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