Derek I Stiles
[Wed 11:19pm – Outgoing Call]
"What's my favorite fan up to?"
"Not much, the usual."
"Hmm, and that is?"
"You know, cooking, making new recipes, getting covered in the stuff, the usual."
"What about you?"
"Oh, you know, the same as every night."
"Bothering me, huh?"
"You need friends, Derek."
"I have friends, Stiles. I got the band."
"I thought you said you guys aren't exactly 'friends'."
"…okay, that might have been a small lie."
"You can't see it but I'm rolling my eyes at you."
"I feel the judgment coming from you, Stiles."
"So what are you making?"
"Brownies? At this hour, Stiles?"
"Hey, I'm hungry, and I've been craving for some."
"…I want some now."
"Then make them?"
"We both know what happens when I try to cook something."
"Oh yeah, it explodes."
"Yes. Yes, it does."
"Haha. How do you even manage that?"
"I don't even know, okay? It just happens."
"I can't cook…"
"I know, Derek, I know."
"But you can make microwave dinners. That's something."
"It's something all right."
"Indeed, it's something."
"Mhm. I'm the king of microwave dinners."
"Shut up and let me enjoy this."
"Nope. We can't have that, Derek. The world might implode."
"Stealing my lines, are we?"
"Well, you stole my line, so it's only fair."
"Whatever you say, Stiles."
"Shut up and hear me munch on these brownies."
"I'm hanging up."
"Don't tempt me, Stiles."
"Oh my god, Derek, you need to try these browni—"
[Thurs 1:56am – Disconnected]
I told you not to tempt me.
It's an overcast Saturday afternoon, and both Peter and Laura suggest a game of charades.
Yes, Derek knows that Peter had told them all that they will be taking a few days off after the concert in Colorado, saying that they need to recharge their energy for the grand finale back home, in Cali. Also saying that he wants them to end their summer tour with a bang.
Still, he wasn't expecting Peter of all people to announce the game just like that. It doesn't seem like his uncle to try and bond with them, much less play a game with them.
"We split into two teams, with one person on each team drawing a piece of paper and having to act out the word," Peter says, his eyes bright with honest excitement. Which, okay, that's a first. "And you guys know the rest of the rules, right?"
They all nod, save for Derek, who just rolls his eyes at them.
"Wait!" Erica chimes in. "We're uneven, one team will have one extra member. And who will keep track of the time?"
Peter seems to consider this for a moment and shrugs. "I will keep track of time and scores, then."
From his position on the couch, Derek sinks further into the seat, crossing his arms. "I'll keep the score and time, you guys play."
That earns him a couple groans and shakes of the head.
"What?" he asks, eyeing each one of them.
"It's not going to be fun if you're sitting there, brooding on the couch," Peter says and smirks when Derek flips him off. "Oh, come on. One game isn't going to kill you. Who knows, you might like charades."
Derek makes a mental note to reduce Peter's paycheck the moment they get home but for now, he sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. He has nothing else to do, and Stiles is with his dad, which means no phone. So he has time to kill.
"Fine," he concedes.
They split into the teams shortly after that. Derek, Isaac, and Danny on one team while the rest on the other.
Peter beckons Danny to come forth and take a piece of paper from the stack.
"All right," Peter moves towards the center, throwing a cushion on the floor, the stack of paper in his lap. He looks down intently at his watch. "You can start—wait. Hold on. The minute hand isn't quite there yet—now!"
It's chaos after that. Words being spewed in mantras, embarrassing situations—namely Derek's turn when he had the word: "Hump", because he knows that Peter is a dick and switched the papers around—but overall, it was fun.
He will never admit that to anyone, though. Not even as he's smiling broadly while he reads the piece of paper Peter had given him, trying his best not to throw it back to his uncle because it reads: "Grinding."
I'm stuck in a staff meeting and I'm bored.
So instead of concentrating on what your bosses are saying, you're texting me and risk getting fired?
Well, when you put it that way, yes.
I'm shaking my head at you Stiles.
I wouldn't be talking.
You were texting me during a press conference so I don't see how this is different.
So, I looked up the dates again.
I thought you guys were supposed to be here in Cali by now.
And the date of the concert changed too.
Well, Peter wants us to take a few days off. You know, relax before the finale. But we're on the road to Cali.
Ah, I see. And well, he's right actually.
Text you later, Finstock is staring at me.
Ooh, you got caught.
Hey, I got a question.
What is it?
Do you have like, Skype or something?
Yes, I do.
Why do you ask?
Cause I've been thinking. I know what you look like and, well, you don't know what I look like.
It's kind of unfair, huh?
Uh, I never thought about it like that.
But now that I think about it, you do have a point.
So…do you, I don't know, want to Skype?
Sure. What's your username?
Awesome. And it's rebelshadow01
Hey. Shut up. I was a young when I made that account.
Sure you were.
I'm rolling my eyes at you sir.
I sense the judgment. It's everywhere.
*dramatic eye roll* I'm getting on now.
Give me a minute. I forgot my password.
Derek is nervous.
He's nervous and it's showing, because both Laura and Erica are staring at him, giggling.
He knows that they know about Stiles. Hell, they all know, actually. It was Isaac the one who was brave enough to speak this out, saying that they can hear him laughing whenever he's talking to Stiles, or when Derek bitches and moans about how Stiles taunts with food.
Oh, and Laura has known for a while, because right after Isaac brought this up, she shouted: "Tony" atop of her lungs.
So yeah, they know.
Derek rushes to plug his earphones in when his phone's screen flickers on and the Skype app's incoming call tone starts to play.
He almost hits decline in his rush.
When the video call connects through, Derek can't help but gawk at the screen. "Stiles?"
Derek stares a bit longer after Stiles gives him awkward wave, then a slow smile begins lift to the corners of his mouth. It tugs at his lips, until he's grinning widely.
Boyd was right about most things. Stiles, now that Derek can see him, doesn't have a buzz cut as Boyd had told him. His hair is a thick brown mess, mussed at the front. Moles dot along Stiles' face ranging from cheek to jaw. The corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles sheepishly back at Derek.
"I thought you had a buzz cut," is all Derek says as a reply.
"W-what? Oh," Stiles fumbles a bit over his words, hand running through his hair. "I, um—I grew it out."
"It looks better that way," Derek says absently, eyes flickering upwards to check if the others are watching him or not.
And, to his surprise, they aren't.
Stiles laughs, shaking his head. "You haven't even seen me with the buzz cut."
"So? I like this better."
Derek cracks a smile at that and finally takes a look at the shirt Stiles has on. He smirks, leaning closer to his phone. "Is that a Raised By Wolves tee I see?"
"Maybe," Stiles looks down at his shirt. It's one of their old ones, way before they made it into the big scene. Its design is a feral wolf clawing through the band's name. "I'm still waiting for that leather jacket you promised me though."
Derek's looking closely at his screen now, grinning because he can't help it. "Really now?"
"Yes. That is the deal in order to get the steaks, pasta, and cookies, Derek," Stiles leans back, crossing his arms, looking smug when Derek makes a face at him.
They talk for at least another hour after that. Derek's surprised that their conversation flowed just as easily as when they talk on the phone or text. Every five minutes or so, Derek would look up and see one of the others stare at him, giggle at him—namely Laura and Erica—or smirk at him.
"So, can you tell me the set list for the concert here in Cali?"
Derek looks around, everyone else is doing their own thing, and leans in close to his phone. "Lean closer and I'll tell you."
And when Stiles does, Derek musters all the seriousness in his being to whisper, "It's a secret."
Stiles leans back, glaring daggers at him as he flips Derek off.
"Oh, that's mean, Stiles."
Stiles sighs. "Shut up."
"That's actually my line," Derek corrects, earning one of those eye rolls Stiles keeps telling him he can't see because they're either texting or talking on the phone.
"You know what?" Stiles yawns. "It's too late for this. I'm going to bed."
Derek smiles lazily. "All right, Stiles. We'll talk tomorrow."
"Of course we will," he nods, leaning so close to the screen that Derek can see the light of the monitor reflecting off Stiles' eyes. "Night, Tony."
Derek's smile grows a tiny bit. "You haven't called me that in a while."
"You're waiting for me to say it back, right?" at Stiles' nod, Derek chuckles. "Night, Steve."
The screen goes black and in seconds it goes back to its normal display, ending the call.
Derek looks up and sees everyone staring at him. "What?"
"Nothing," is the chorused reply he gets.