A Little Danger (A Lot Stranger), 1/? (2016-08-31)

In hindsight, Stiles could understand how his actions might be interpreted a certain way.

But when has hindsight ever helped him?

“I think he’s a werewolf,” Stiles says, eyes narrowed and following the, admittedly, hot-like-burning possibly-a-werewolf browsing through the shelves of Beacon Hills’ comic book store unimaginatively named Comics and Stuff.

Erica snorts and rolls her eyes, giving minute tweaks to the expensive figurines in the glass case even though there’s nothing wrong with the way Stiles set them up. She just likes to exert dominance over him by redoing his work. It’s disgustingly successful, the boss is considering giving her a promotion (but no raise because haha, as if. Comic book stores don’t make money anymore since people can just buy things online instead).

“You could just ask him out like a normal person–oh wait,” she pauses, “you aren’t a normal person.”

Stiles scowls. “Yellow makes you look jaundiced,” he snipes then–because he does have some self-preservation–darts away frantically.

Right into the solid wall of probably-a-werewolf’s muscular chest.

Stiles kind of bounces off him like the least aerodynamic rubber ball in existence and only gets saved from collapsing to the ground in an ungainly heap of limbs because definitely-a-werewolf manages to snag his wrist and tether him upright.

“Holy inferiority complex, Batman!” Stiles yelps, because why make only one reference when he can do two simultaneously?

Hot Werewolf tilts his head in a way that shouldn’t be cute considering his whole molten-sexuality-vibe going on, confused but curious–which is one of the more positive reactions Stiles has gotten in the face of his… everything.

In response, Stiles just stares like a gormless idiot. Hot Werewolf has really nice eyes.

Erica coughs, swooping in to save him, “Do you need help with anything?” She asks checking out Hot Werewolf blatantly.

Never mind, she’s obviously swooping in to do something other than save Stiles from himself.

Hot Werewolf turns toward her, “Just need to pay for this,” he says, holding up a Superman t-shirt in his left hand. His right hand is still wrapped around Stiles’ wrist.

Shit, he can probably feel how fast his pulse is going.

“Sure thing,” Erica says, leaning forward with a smirk in a combination that Stiles has actually seen her practice before, and then, bizarrely, she steps away? “I have to go shelve the Catwoman serials, but Stiles here can help you with that.”

“I can?” He asks, uselessly, to Erica’s retreating back as she heads in the complete opposite direction of where the DC serials are. “I-I mean, yeah, definitely, I can totally help you with that, dude,” he amends, doing his best to get to the cash register while his wrist is still being held hostage by Hot Werewolf.

“Don’t call me dude,” Hot Werewolf argues, but amenably follows Stiles’ lead. “My name’s Derek,” he adds, while Stiles rings up the t-shirt.

Hot Werewolf–Derek–is apparently the kind of person to give exact change. Stiles tries not to fumble the coins too badly, but even with two hands now, he can feel the pressure of Derek’s gaze.

“Thanks for shopping at Comics and Stuff,” Stiles says by rote as he hands over Derek’s receipt. “Come again soon.”

“I’m sure I will,” Derek smirks, teeth bright and sharp and thrilling.

It’s not until the door chime jingles sadly that Stiles takes a shaky breath.

“Wow,” Erica says, “I practically gift-wrapped that for you. You should be making out with him right now. Like, up against that shelf right there.”

And because Stiles has no idea how to respond to that, he ignores it and says instead, “He’s definitely a werewolf.”


A/N: I was discussing food allergies with my sister and had a weird thought and then it turned into this so…

I thought I was going to be able to do it all in one shot but its approaching midnight so apparently this is going to be a multi-parter.

Word Prompts (W17): Wedding

They first meet each other in a wedding dress boutique. It’s not too strange, really, considering Laura owns the store–meaning, by default, Derek works there. Despite his responsibilities being primarily in inventory, Derek does occasionally interact with the clients. Generally against his will, considering he’s been hit on by far too many bridesmaids and mothers of the brides, but he does meet people at the store.

No, what’s strange is that they meet each other while Stiles is trying on wedding dresses.

It’s one of the livelier appointments for sure, Derek can hear the cheers and laughter all the way in the stock room. And wedding dresses are excellent insulation.

Six impressively tall and broad women– “Amazons,” Peter remarks, before Cora swats his shoulder and shoos him toward a different group of frankly predatory looking septuagenarians (a fiftieth anniversary renewal of the vows sort of thing, which makes the bridal party eager to relive their youth)– have appropriated two of the store’s couches and three ottomans. Malia, squeezed between two of the brightly colored and sequin-adorned ladies, looks especially out of place with her day-off casual clothes.

But Derek doesn’t see any of this in person until fifty minutes into the appointment, when Laura sends him for the fifth time to the stock room for yet another batch of options. Each trip he’s brought back at least two dresses, so he’s getting pretty annoyed with this particular bride. On top of that is Peter’s flock of distinguished hens and Cora’s excitable group of sorority bridesmaids, so that’s almost ten trips with over twenty dresses. Sure he’s strong, but wedding dresses are heavy, okay?

“Derek!” And there’s Laura’s voice again.

“What is it this time?” Derek mutters behind a pile of white chiffon and lace. Laura will hear him anyway.

“Are those the Lazaro and Maggie Sottero A-lines?” She asks, spots the labels on the hangers, then begins to drag him to the front room.

He hates the front room, so he lets his heels dig in a little, but Laura is the epitome of an older sister who always gets her way.

“Ladies!” She calls out cheerfully, perhaps a little maniacally. This group, while not as melodramatic as appointments in the past, is certainly on the more rambunctious side. Malia’s shameless heckling does not help in the slightest, “Look at what my baby brother Derek has brought us!”

The women give a raucous cheer, appreciation in equal parts for the dresses and for the ‘fine specimen of rugged handsomeness’. His scowl does nothing to deter the blush or the catcalls that follow.

It’s at that point that he turns–if it weren’t for the fact that each of the dresses in his arms were worth over ten grand each and that Laura would possibly, literally kill him, he would have dropped them in shock.

They first meet each other in a wedding dress boutique; Derek, bullied into being a gopher and a distraction simultaneously, and Stiles standing on the raised platform, resplendent in white.


A/N: I don’t actually have any idea as to what happens next? Probably some kind of rom-com misunderstanding wherein Derek, understandably, thinks Stiles is going to get married (and thus is unavailable for dating) while Stiles thinks Derek is straight (and thus un-attracted to actual Stiles, a decidedly male drag princess who for reasons unknown to me at this point, has to try on various wedding dresses for the Jungle drag queens’ amusement).


Also… I only now realize that Peter’s “Amazons” comment might actually be on point considering that the club the drag queens frequent is called the Jungle. Like, they may actually call themselves Amazons? I dunno. And well, obviously if his daughter is friends with Stiles, she’s probably friends with them as well. So Peter would know…